The First 5 Years: What It Actually Feels Like to Be a Young Artist in Malaysia

                                     Photo by Patty Brito

Once the last day of the graduate show ends, that’s it.

No more student label. No more safety net.
You’re an artist now or at least, that’s what it says.

I touched on this question recently "if you study fine art, must you become an artist?"

But what happens after that… is a different story.

For a small group, things start off quite well. Their works sell during the show. Red dots here and there. People start paying attention. It feels like maybe… okay, being an artist might actually work.

But for most, that’s not the case.

Some sell one or two works.

Some sell sketches.

While some don’t sell anything at all.

And that’s already your first reality check.

After that, everyone tries to step into this idea of “being an artist.” 

You graduate from fine art school, being an artist is the usual route, right?

So, you set up a studio. Start producing. Keep the momentum going.

Some continue their graduate series, well it makes sense, it already worked.
Some try to start fresh, new body of work, new direction, new everything.

Those who sold works early on usually stick to what they’re doing. Why change? It sells.

A few get picked up by galleries quite early.
These are the lucky ones. No need to sugarcoat it.

For the rest, it’s the usual routine:
Send portfolio.
Wait.
Follow up.
Wait again.

That waiting becomes part of the process whether you like it or not.

People always say the first five years are important.

And yeah, they are.

This is where things either start moving… or slowly go quiet.

A lot of fresh graduates go straight into being a full-time artist.

Sounds right. Sounds brave.

But honestly, this is where reality starts to come in.

Because making art costs money.

Studio costs money.

Art supplies cost money

Living costs money.

Everything costs money.

And when there’s no consistent exhibition, no commission, nothing coming in… things get tight. Quite fast.

Even when you sell, it doesn’t mean the money comes in immediately. Some collectors pay later. Some stretch payments.

So “sold” doesn’t always mean stable.

Money becomes unpredictable.

And after a while, that starts to hit.

So people adjust.

Some start teaching at schools, tuition or workshops.
Some take freelance jobs, murals, design and whatever comes in.
Some just move into other industries completely.

At first, the job is just to support the art.

Then slowly, it changes.

Work becomes the main thing.
Art becomes something you try to do when you have time.

If you still have time.

There’s also another route people take.

Postgrad.

For some, it feels like a safer path. Maybe eventually become a lecturer. Stable income, more structure, still within the art world.

But honestly, not much changes for some.

The work continues, but now it’s layered with theory.
Same process. Same ideas. Just… heavier language.

After the postgrad show ends, the cycle doesn’t magically improve.

It just resets.

And then there’s this other thing.

Social media.

Because now, everything is visible.

You see people exhibiting. Selling. Getting picked up by galleries. Moving forward.

But you don’t see everything else.

The waiting.
The rejection.
The uncertainty.

So it starts to feel like everyone else is doing better than you.

You start to doubt your artworks, your practice, and eventually yourself.

“Maybe I am not good enough to be an artist.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t be an artist in the first place.”

These voices start to whisper things.
Even when that’s not entirely true.

The first five years aren’t just about “making it.”

It’s about figuring out how to stay.

How to keep going when things are uncertain.
How to balance making and surviving.
How to deal with doubt without letting it stop you completely.

Some make it through.
Some take longer.
Some stop.

That’s just the reality of it.