How to Join a Creative Movement without Calling Yourself an Artist
- kendallbryantcc
- Sep 23
- 3 min read
Somewhere along the way, a lot of us were told that art belonged to “other people.”
The ones with berets, sketchbooks, or stage lights. The ones who had talent, confidence, or at least a certificate that said so.
And so we put our crayons down.
We stopped doodling in the margins.
We sang only in the shower.
We told ourselves we weren’t “real artists.”
The world is full of people who once made things — and then stopped. Maybe you were told you weren’t good enough. Maybe life just got busy. Maybe creativity slid off the plate in between deadlines, nappies, and tax returns.
But here’s the secret: you don’t have to call yourself an artist to live a creative life.
You don’t even have to call yourself an artist to join a creative movement.
The Myth of the ‘Real Artist’
The myth says: creativity belongs in galleries, theatres, or behind velvet ropes. That if you can’t draw a straight line or carry a tune, you should sit quietly and clap for the ones who can.
The truth? Creativity is woven into everything we do.
Cooking a family recipe.
Rearranging furniture in a room.
Singing along with the car radio until your voice cracks.
Choosing the words for a birthday card.
These small marks matter. They’re not less-than. They’re the stuff movements are built on.
Why Movements Need Beginners (and Rusty Returners)
Movements don’t grow because a few experts sit on pedestals. They grow because ordinary people show up with what they have — imperfect, unfinished, brave enough to add their bit.
Beginners bring courage.
Rusty returners bring stories.
Closet creatives bring the ache of yearning.
And together, those small contributions add up to something extraordinary.
I see it all the time. People arrive at a workshop saying, “I’m not creative, but I thought I’d try.” By the end, they’re grinning over something they have made or humming with strangers in a choir. The shift isn’t that they suddenly became “artists.” The shift is that they remembered they always were.
A Personal Confession
If I’m honest, I’ve been there too.
I once put my own sketchbooks away for years.
I told myself I was too busy directing, theatre needed to be my focus, too busy working, too busy being useful to everyone else. My creativity had to look “serious” to be legitimate — and so I stopped making for myself. I let the small, playful marks slide out of reach.
It wasn’t until I picked up a pencil again, almost by accident, that I realised how much I’d missed it. My first drawing was awkward, clumsy. My hand felt stiff. But there it was: a doorway back into something I thought I’d lost.
That’s why I believe so strongly that movements need rusty returners. We carry stories in our pauses. And when we begin again — even messily — it gives other people courage to start too.
You Belong Here (Even if You Don’t Call Yourself an Artist)
At AFPS, we’re not looking for polished. We’re looking for presence.
You don’t need to audition, prove yourself, or even know where to start.
Pull up a chair. Make a mark. Hum a note. Share a memory.
That’s it. That’s the doorway.
Because belonging doesn’t begin with mastery. It begins with showing up.
A Gentle Invitation
This season, as we set The Table and launch new projects, we’re gathering stories, marks, and voices. Some people will sing in choirs. Others will decorate cups. Some will write one line on a card and call it enough.
Every contribution matters. Every contribution is part of the art.
So no, you don’t need to call yourself an artist.
You just need to be here.
Pull up a chair with us. Because creativity isn’t a title you earn — it’s a spark you carry.
Comments