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The Art of Getting a Creative Graduate Job

The Milburn Report recently revealed that over a million young people in the UK are not in education, employment or training. For those leaving art school, it’s a familiar tale

Kyle MacNeill9 June, 2026
An overhead view of a busy graduate show in a double-height industrial space, with diverse artworks and installations spread across two levels, a red balloon suspended mid-air among the exhibits.

Royal College of Art, Graduate Show, 2022. Photo: Richard Haughton. Courtesy RCA

Across the UK, from Falmouth to Glasgow, this year’s intake of art students are frantically putting the finishing touches to their final-year projects. 

It is graduate show season, when students exhibit their artwork in front of baffled parents and arch nemeses, wearing their best charity shop fits and swigging free booze to dilute the jitters. 

“After three or four years going through the wringer – understanding, developing and defending their work – it’s time to see what the rest of the world thinks,” says Harriet Lloyd-Smith, the former editor of Plaster magazine, now a freelance arts writer, who studied Fine Art at the University of Southampton. “It can be nerve-shredding.” Ten years on, she still has nightmares about her BA show, she says.

Some things, it seems, never change. “It was extremely stressful, a lot of people in my course were so sleep-deprived they were unable to form sentences,” says Ines Huegle, a recent graduate from the Glasgow School of Art.  “One guy I know kept a toilet in his studio for almost a whole year. He was keeping it to use in his final show, only to drop it during the install.” 

After the chaos of the storm, recent students then have to deal with a disconcerting calm as they leave university and begin a new life. “Then comes the comedown – seeing your creative and social sanctuary get completely reset feels a bit like being evicted,” says Roni Adan, a student at Arts University Bournemouth. As they are thrust into the big, bad artworld, each is hoping to land a job and become an artist. Except it’s not as easy as that. Rather than glide into employment, many arts graduates will have to navigate a very difficult economic terrain. 

Art students are far from the only young people desperately searching for work. The first part of a new independent report for the government, published late May, painted a Munchian picture of the jobs market, noting that over a million British people aged 16 to 24 are not in education, employment or training (NEET). 

A monumental panoramic painting depicting layered urban and communal scenes — including a crowd with raised fists, a church, street corners, and red roses — rendered in a sweeping palette of deep teals, reds, and greens.

Amanda Offor, The Passing of Okachi (The Fall of Earls Court), 2025, dye, pigment, kozo paper, and oil on canvas, 250 cm x 770 cm. Courtesy the artist

“One in 8 young people. And rising,” writes the report’s author, Alan Milburn, a former Labour minister and current chancellor of Lancaster University, in its introduction. “Behind the statistics lie individual lives: aspirations thwarted, opportunities lost, futures placed on hold.”

“It’s really grim. It seems almost impossible to get a job in hospitality, let alone an arts job,” says Huegle. “Pretty much everyone I’ve spoken to has applied for hundreds of jobs, including myself. The only one I heard back from was at a meat-washing factory.”

In an interview, Milburn told the BBC that a “round of ammunition,” rather than a “single magic bullet,” is needed to fix the problem. “It’s extremely daunting,” says Aedamer Long, a fine art student at Chelsea College of Art, of the economic conditions they face. “What’s especially scary is the truth within the report, which we are experiencing first-hand. We are feeling a bit powerless – but you have to be hopeful that we can beat the system.” 

But the art world has its unique issues. “Museums are under pressure. Everyone seems to be looking for work. Nepotism is real. So are connections,” says anonymous insider artnotnet. It’s why, for many grads, applying for jobs can feel more like firing blanks, sending beautifully-designed CVs out to a mass of potential employers. As Jaya Edwards, a Fine Art student at Arts University Bournemouth, puts it, for many roles, “you need experience, but how do you get experience without experience?”

Of course, some do find work. According to the employment data company Prospects Luminate’s latest report, 45.8 percent of recent creative arts graduates, which include those who studied media, photography and fashion, secured full-time roles within 15 months of leaving university. 

But the landscape is less rosy when you look closer – just 34.4 percent of fine art graduates landed full-time work, compared to an average of 56.4 percent across all subjects. Creative arts graduates in general earned a salary below the overall average, the report notes. Most notably, only 17 percent of those roles – landed by the lucky 34.4 percent – were in arts, design and media positions, compared with 27.3 percent in retail, catering, waiting and bar gigs. It means that less than six percent of creative arts graduates found full-time work in the sector they have trained for. 

Many graduates have had to make their peace with working in roles considered uncreative. “You’ve got people who want to get an arts-related job, but there are also people who don't want one; they just want money in order to continue their practice,” says Ella Jones, who is currently finessing her sculptures for her Manchester School of Art degree show. This chimes with many of the graduates I speak to, who are ready to juggle all sorts of part-time gigs and work. They are motivated by a love for their work, not by the pursuit of money. “There’s the work you will put your name to, which usually pays the least, and the work you do that funds it, which you might not brag about so much,” says Lloyd-Smith. “Unless it’s illegal, unethical or makes you feel like shit, never apologise for the second kind.”

But, once outside of the university system, continuing your practice in your spare time is no mean feat. Losing access to studio space comes with its challenges, especially if you don’t have an account with the Bank of Mum and Dad. “Some people’s work is expensive,” says Huegle. “It relies on machinery or workshop access – you can't etch at home or have your own kiln.” No wonder, then, that fewer than one in ten arts workers in the UK come from a working-class background; the game is rigged in the favour of those who can afford to take lower-paid roles or have the ability to fund their own projects. “Entry-level roles are supposedly better paid than in previous years,” says Lloyd-Smith. “But there are far fewer of them now thanks to a tangle of recent legislative, economic and technological shifts. The barriers haven't disappeared, but they're changing shape.”

A suspended sculpture of translucent amber wing-like forms radiating from a dark faceted crystal pendant, hanging against a window with Gothic arch shadows visible through a sheer blind.

Ella Jones, Jonathan Livingston Seagull Nosediving, 2026, latex and steel. Courtesy the artist

While it is extremely rare, rent-free studio space (such as at Vanguard Court Studios for Camberwell College of Arts graduates, or SWG3 in Glasgow) can be a lifesaver. Lloyd-Smith also mentions the Working Arts Club, which is doing vital work to create tangible opportunities. If only the UK took note of the Republic of Ireland’s pioneering Basic Income for the Arts scheme, which awards 2,000 artists a €325 a week grant for three years.

Some fortunate graduates have already landed enviable opportunities. Huegle has secured a place at the Royal Drawing School. Jones, who also studied art history as a buffer, is preparing to start work at a sculpture casting foundry. She found the work after getting in touch with an alumnus who worked at a metalworking studio; they sent an employer her way via Instagram. Amanda Offor, a 26-year-old fine art student at the Slade School of Fine Art, has already exhibited her work at the Tafeta gallery in London. “At the end of the day, it’s a degree show. That gets lost in the entire prestige of Slade. We’re just praying and crossing our fingers that we pass. But people [visiting] are like, wow, this [artwork] would look fantastic in my living room.”

This spectrum of progress makes graduating from art school a fiercely competitive scene. It’s not easy to see your peers land solo shows while you are struggling to make ends meet. Yet a career as an artist can offer a camaraderie that few other industries can offer. “I think the exciting thing to come out of the uncertainty we are all experiencing is there are now many young graduates seeking a new artistic community,” says Huegle.

Ultimately, it’s about trying to turn the comedown of graduating into an afterglow. And then, throwing everything at the wall and seeing what sticks. “Go to everything. Every opening. Every talk. Every benefit. Every awkward drink. You never know who you’ll meet. The art world runs on relationships,” says artnotnet. 

But it’s also about realising that graduation is a gradual entry point. The stars may not align overnight. Keep grafting on the side and knocking on doors and, one day, one might swing open.

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