Part 3: Should You Pursue Art Education?

Redefining “Learning”

How do you view the value of attending an art school?

I believe any school — including art schools — offers a few core kinds of value:

First, the value of education itself.

In art school, you can systematically learn visual arts, studio practice, art history, and theory. Schools also provide equipment and tools that would be difficult or expensive to access on your own.

Second, the value of community.

Just like business school or an engineering program, an art school brings together people who share similar interests and questions. That environment of collective exploration is irreplaceable.

Third, the value of institutional reputation.

This becomes part of your label after graduation. In real-world interactions, we don’t always have time to understand a person in depth — so education history becomes a quick trust signal.

We shouldn’t worship labels, but we can use them strategically to reach places we want to go.

And particularly in the arts, relationships matter.

This is the biggest thing I gained from art school.

The art world runs heavily on community —
How to contact galleries, which ones are ethical, what exhibitions exist — most of this circulates through people, not Google. Being in an art school naturally places you inside that ecosystem.

Of course, everyone’s experience differs. I loved my time at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago; it was open, experimental, and encouraged critical thinking. But if you have a very specific interest, you might choose a school aligned with that. For example, a classmate transferred to an LA art school because he wanted to pursue animation more seriously.

For those who are already working adults, returning to school is a major decision — involving time, money, and responsibilities toward partners, children, or parents.

Art school matters most early in one’s career. Later on, your actual output and trajectory matter more. School makes things easier, but it cannot replace ongoing effort. If your work lacks depth, even a top MFA won’t carry you very far.

If you don’t have a degree or a portfolio, how should you begin?

If you’re reading this, I trust you’re someone who truly wants to come closer to art. You may already be trying — perhaps painting with watercolor, following YouTube tutorials, or creating pieces with an emerging personal style.

Without a degree or portfolio, where to start?

I think aiming to build a small portfolio is a great beginning.
You don’t need to apply to a school — but making a portfolio like you would apply for an MFA can be incredibly helpful, the same way applying to Y Combinator forces founders to clarify their thinking.

Set a clear goal:

Create 10–15 works that represent your evolving art practice, plus one artist statement.

This does NOT need to be perfect.
What matters is having a structure.

Examples of how to start:

If your theme is family photographs, you can:

• Recreate them in different media (painting, installation, video).

• Extract a single motif (like candles or a red dot on the forehead).

• Forget the photos entirely and reconstruct from memory.

• Combine text, sound, or light.

Early on, don’t limit yourself to one medium. Explore widely, then narrow.

Think of it as building a Minimum Viable Product (MVP):
a coherent set of 10–15 pieces around one theme.

Once that’s done, expand or evolve as needed.

If you want support, you can take short workshops — at places like the Center for Book Arts in New York, or public courses at the Royal Drawing School. Most importantly, keep making. Let practice lead learning.

“Dao” and “Shu”:

Your concept (“道”) and your technique (“术”).
Let them grow together.

Finally, publish your portfolio on a simple personal website under your name, with the works labeled by date, medium, and title.

That’s a very realistic place to begin.

In your opinion, what does it mean for a work to be “good enough”?

This is deeply subjective. What is a good artwork? What is a bad one?

At this stage of my life, I no longer judge purely by whether something is visually beautiful. Some works are disturbing or grotesque — think of Francis Bacon or Hyman Bloom — yet they are undeniably great works.

So what defines “good”?

For me, the key is honesty.

If a work is just mimicking the random brushstrokes of Instagram influencers pretending to make abstract expressionism, it’s hard to call it good. But if the artist genuinely confronts their desires, fears, hopes, or darkest corners — like descending into a deep well to look around, then bringing something back up — then that sincerity itself makes the work meaningful.

I really love Japanese artist Misaki Kawai’s work. It’s not something I would personally make, but I admire its playful, childlike color and form. The space becomes filled with her bright monsters and textures — it’s wonderful.

Artists like Soutine, Bacon, or contemporary artists like Qian Qian or Jin Zhiliang — all very different — create works with distinct languages. What unites them is authenticity and deep introspection.

So “good enough” means:

True, unique, and a genuine expression of an examined inner world.

What is the most important thing you learned from art education?

This is a great question. It immediately reminds me of something from my sophomore year. A professor took our class to the museum at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. We stood in front of a John Currin painting — distorted bodies, exaggerated breasts, skeletal faces. I felt disgusted; I really disliked it.

But the professor said something I will never forget:

“Learn from the works you don’t like.”

As viewers, we have preferences and immediate judgments. But art education teaches us not to reject unfamiliar or uncomfortable works too quickly.

For example, Anicka Yi — I may not find her work “beautiful” or emotionally resonant, but her use of microbes as material opens an entirely different way of thinking. Through her perspective, I see another dimension of the world.

Back to John Currin — despite the disturbing subject matter, his use of color is extraordinary, like flowers blooming. Later, I saw younger artists like Anna Weyant drawing inspiration from his work while developing their own language. It made me realize that “beautiful enough to hang on your wall” is not the only measure that matters.

Art education taught me this:
When you encounter a work you dislike or don’t understand,
open your mind before closing your eyes.

If we let go of preconceptions, our world expands.

If you were to pursue an MFA now, what goals and preparations would you carry with you?

If I were to pursue an MFA now, my main goal would be to break out of my comfort zone.

I would try video, film, or new media — build a richer visual system. I wouldn’t limit myself to what I already know; I would intentionally pursue materials and methods that challenge me.

Mentally, I would need to prepare for re-entering an academic social environment. In my current life, I move across different circles — art, tech, entrepreneurship. An MFA would mean anchoring myself deeply within an art community again, and that requires adjustment.

Practically, I would also need to prepare for relocation. I would choose cities like London, New York, or Los Angeles because of their rich ecosystems — but moving means building a new life, new structure, new routines.

So I would enter an MFA with this mindset:
creative expansion, openness to new mediums, and readiness to begin again.

What is the difference between “learning art” and “becoming an artist”?

I think “learning art” is about acquiring skills and ways of thinking.
But “becoming an artist” is essentially entrepreneurship — the startup is you.

Artists must deal with creation and business. When you’re early in your career and don’t have assistants or a studio team, you are the entire production line: you make the work, you distribute it, you promote it, and you represent your own brand.

In today’s world — shaped by social media and shifting gallery dynamics — this self-management ability is incredibly important.

So the biggest difference between learning art and becoming an artist is:

Can you run yourself as a complete, independent enterprise?