Trying My Damndest
Choosing persistence over perfection in a field that tests both.
Disclaimer: I don’t say any of this to deter anyone from pursuing a career in the arts. If anything, I say it to remind those who haven’t found success right away that they’re not alone. I’m sometimes embarrassed to admit that I haven’t gotten exactly what I wanted (which is a full-time career in a big museum, slowly building my way up), but I also know I’m on my way and I’m trying my damndest to make it happen!
I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to stay in a field that doesn’t always make room for you…about how persistence looks different when you don’t have a safety net, and how success can mean simply staying close to the thing you love. There’s a line I’ve heard too many times in the art world: “It’s not what you know, it’s who you know.” But for some of us, it’s also about what you can afford to risk.
Since being let go from the artist’s studio where I worked for three years, I’ve applied to over forty jobs in my field. Out of those, only a handful have turned into interviews. Most, I make it to the last round and do not get an offer. Each rejection (or worse…radio silence) chips away at my optimism just a little, but never completely. The truth is, I know I’m good at what I do. I’m deeply qualified, experienced, and I have grit like no one else. I’ve built my life around art in every way I can. The field is just tough…extremely competitive and often inaccessible to those without the right connections or financial safety net to take lower-paying positions.
Sometimes I wish I could go back to grad school (one, because I loved it, and I yearn for the rigor of formal learning)…back to that version of me who believed effort alone would be enough. In my second and final year, I started as an intern at The Met while also becoming a studio manager. I thought I was setting myself up perfectly, that this combination of academic growth and hands-on experience would open every door. Even before that, in Beaumont, TX while I was in undergrad, I was already trying to make every job mean something bigger. I worked at a jewelry store because it gave me hands-on experience with valuable objects, hoping that might someday translate into handling museum collections. I temped in the library archives, thinking it would help me learn the systems of registration and cataloguing. I taught dance classes [partly because I’ve loved dance forever, but also] because teaching in an informal, creative setting could be similar to that of an art museum and that has shaped how I connect with people as a museum educator today.
Looking back, I realize I never had the luxury of taking the “standard” path. I couldn’t afford to take a low-paying entry-level job just to get my foot in the door. Honestly I still can’t, and so I don’t regret the choices I made. I’ve worked in almost every corner of the art world (and others outside of it): art education, studios, schools, social media, with artists, in collections and archives, museums…and each one has taught me something new about how people connect to art. I’ve realized that while I might not have a ladder to climb, I’m building something different: my own path.
That’s why I started doing things like creating videos online, writing, documenting, and sharing my dedication to the field in every way I can. It’s my way of staying in conversation with art, and my way of creating opportunities where none seem to exist. In many ways, I see this work as an extension of what I do as a museum educator: finding new ways to connect people to art, to make it approachable, and to spark curiosity outside the walls of an institution. I might not have had an ideal path, but I have curiosity, persistence, and the belief that what I’m building (albeit slowly, stubbornly) is meaningful.
The longer I’m in this field, the more I see that there’s no single roadmap for success in the arts. Some people climb, others drift, and then there are those of us who build our own bridges between worlds. Because of that I rarely believe in the system of the art world, but I always believe in the art itself. Truthfully, I know I’ll never be able to give this field up. Partly because I wouldn’t even know what else to do at this point, but mostly because I can’t imagine a life where I’m not surrounded by art, learning from it, or helping others see it differently. I’d rather spend my life trying to do something I love than give up on the thing that’s shaped who I am.
✨ If this resonated with you, thank you for reading. I write here about the intersections of art, work, and life as a young woman in the city. I share all this because I know I’m not the only one figuring it out. If you’ve ever felt like you’re creating your own ladder, this space is for you! ✨




🤍🤍🤍
Mac, I'm sorry about the struggle. You have been an inspiration to me over the years of working through your education and career. Thank you for creating a site, and expressing your travel log through the arts. I'm not sure why the next job has not shown up yet, but I do believe in you. Your exuberance for the arts has already help loads of people, and will continue to do so. Cast your net far and wide. God will carry you to your calling. With heartfelt love, Larry Kitchen