Find Your Tribe

August 21, 2025

There is a unique kind of vulnerability that comes with being an artist, one that exists quietly beneath every brushstroke, every sculpture, every poem or performance. Art is not just craft; it is exposure. It is putting a piece of your inner world into the outer one, offering it up like a secret, hoping it will be understood. And when it isn’t, when it is met with silence or, worse, dismissal, it can feel like a personal rejection, a questioning of your voice, your vision, your very place in the creative landscape. But what’s easy to forget, in those tender moments, is that art is deeply subjective. It always has been. Not every creation is meant for every eye, and not every viewer is meant for every artist.

One of the hardest lessons to learn is that the rejection of your work doesn’t necessarily mean the work isn’t good. More often, it means it simply hasn’t found its people yet. The first audience your art reaches may not be the right one. They may not be ready for what you’re saying, or perhaps your language, the visual symbols, the colors, the textures just doesn’t speak to them. And that’s okay. Art doesn’t need to please everyone. In fact, it shouldn’t. The danger lies in believing that you must bend your work to fit someone else’s taste just to be accepted. That’s a betrayal not only of your voice, but of the audience who is out there, somewhere, waiting for something exactly like what you make.

Finding your tribe, those kindred spirits who truly see your work, is not a fast or easy process. It takes time, often far more than we’d like. It takes resilience, a stubborn kind of hope, and the quiet belief that your people are out there, even when you haven’t met them yet. You’ll find them not just in galleries or shows or social media feeds, but in unexpected corners of community, in shared glances across workshop tables, in heartfelt comments from strangers who get it. They are the ones who don’t ask you to explain, who lean in rather than turn away, who feel something when they look at your work because, in some way, it mirrors a part of them.

And when that moment comes, when your art reaches the eyes and hearts of the right people, it is transformative. Suddenly, the doubts and the rejections shrink in comparison. Suddenly, you are not shouting into a void, but having a conversation. Your work is no longer just seen; it is felt, it is celebrated, it is understood. This connection, this recognition, is the reward for your persistence. And it cannot be faked. You earn it by staying true to your vision, even when it’s tempting to water it down for easier consumption. You earn it by showing up, again and again, in your authenticity.

So don’t waste yourself trying to convince those who cannot be convinced. That energy is better spent reaching, seeking, building the bridge toward those who will celebrate you, not in spite of your uniqueness, but because of it. Keep creating. Keep showing up. Your tribe is out there. And when they find you, or when you find them, it will feel like home.