This is what being a sellout feels like.
I was crying uncontrollably at my last jazz piano lesson before graduation from Northwestern University—with a bachelor’s degree in music. (A belated apology to my piano professor, Jeremy Kahn, if you are reading this…)
I was set to take a job in IT after the summer, and in my mind, that meant one thing: I would never play music again.
If you have a “real job,” you can’t be an artist!
If your money doesn’t come from your art, then you are not an artist!
As the tears poured out and dripped onto the keys of the Yamaha Grand, Jeremy, my teacher, and resident improvisational virtuoso—almost laughing, a little incredulous—reassured me with quiet confidence:
“Katharine, you will always play piano. You don’t have to worry.”
I couldn’t believe him, and the lump in my throat remained.
Growing up, the only examples I had of “real” musicians were:
my music teachers
fabulously famous and wealthy performers (Britney Spears?)
My mathematics was the following:
I was taking job in IT, therefore I am sell out. If sell out, then, music and art does not exist. QED.
But that’s not what happened.
After I moved to Tennessee for my new job—and in nearly every place I’ve lived since—within two months, word would get out that I played piano and sang.
And then I’d be playing three to five times a week and find myself having to say NO to more gigs than I said yes to, producing my own concerts, recording original works.
No matter the city, and no matter the job.
Now, 10 plus years (oof, has it been that long…) since that dramatic day crying at my music lesson, I find myself asking:
Where does this ridiculous idea come from?
That creative people have to make all their money from their art?
That if they don’t, it somehow doesn’t count?
It’s a damaging, false idea (whose origins we will explore in another post…). And honestly, it makes me ANGRY that so many people, including myself, all those years ago, believed it.
I am here today to tell you: how you make your money does NOT an artist make.
In fact, my day job has given me more creative freedom than many of my friends who rely on music for income.
I’ve been able to:
learn and record salsa piano
take gigs I actually enjoy, with people I want to be around
Say no—completely, freely—to the gigs I don’t (goodbye, boring wedding gigs in Santa Rosa that take up my entire day and pay $300)
pay for my health insurance
contribute to my retirement fund (future creativity fund?)
It is time to normalize the Five-to-Nine.
Let’s recognize that a “real job” and a real creative life are not in conflict—they can support each other.
Be proud of your day job!
When people ask you what you do at a gig, or at an art exhibition, or a start up pitch competition… tell them openly and honestly. Don’t hide it. Show people what is possible.
Let your day job fund your curiosity, your risks, your growth.
Let it help you explore new ideas and build a rich, varied, creative life of depth and calm.
You don’t stop being an artist just because your paycheck comes from somewhere else.
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