I mean — who hasn’t heard of imposter syndrome at this point? I feel like I quietly live next to it: going to bed with it, waking up with it sitting on the edge of my bed.

But in some fields, at least, there is something to hold onto. Something measurable. Progress in sport shows up in kilos, times, endurance. Content shows up in views and feedback. Even sales — they speak, quietly but clearly, in numbers.

But what about artists? How do you measure something that is, by nature, subjective — and still deal with the constant feeling that maybe you aren't enough? That maybe you don’t quite belong here?

Let’s take a closer look.

Okay, let’s start with the basics — what actually is imposter syndrome?

At its core, it isn't about a lack of ability. It is about a mismatch between how competent you are and how competent you feel. And whether you are in a “regular” job or doing something creative, the pattern is pretty much the same: you achieve something, you dismiss it, you raise the bar — and suddenly you feel behind all over again.

So if the pattern is universal, why does it feel heavier for artists? The answer is already in the intro: the lack of clear, supportive systems that validate your success.

In most fields, you are given external markers that tell you you are doing well — promotions, salary increases, performance metrics, clear progression ladders.

In art, though, it is a different game. What you get instead is subjective feedback and wildly inconsistent recognition. One day you are praised, the next you are ignored (or even criticised), and it starts to feel like an emotional rollercoaster. You end up in this loop where your best work feels accidental, and new opportunities feel less like growth and more like exposure.

Sounds stressful — until you learn how to deal with it. And some artists actually do. How? They take that same imposter feeling and turn it into fuel — something that pushes the work forward rather than holding it back.

We usually talk about inspiration in quite tangible terms — memories, people, even animals. Quite the obvious things. But I would bet you haven’t really thought of imposter syndrome as one of them.

And yet, it is. Because it isn't just a quiet, nagging voice. Sometimes, it is oddly productive, even useful, a mix of emotions. A few artists make this almost painfully clear.

Take the work of Tala Madani as an example. She doesn’t just touch on imposter syndrome, she almost dissects it.

While her work may seem to show the feeling of trying to “fit in”, it actually goes deeper, lingering in the discomfort of not belonging at all. To illustrate this, her figures (often grown men) appear awkward, exposed, slightly ridiculous. As if they have been caught middle of the performance, pretending to be something they aren't.

Take a closer look, and you will see it in their faces. It is there on purpose, exaggerated: doubt, that quiet sense of failure, of not being quite “good enough”.

Tracey Emin is another and perhaps the most obvious, and most unapologetic, example of how imposter syndrome can be translated into art. But she approaches it from the other side.

Her work has never quietly asked for approval, it almost dares you to question it. When My Bed was first shown, the reaction was anything but polite. People openly asked whether it was even art. Emin’s response was simple: “Well, they didn’t, did they?”

That is the reminder that art isn’t defined by unanimous agreement, but by the idea behind it. The controversy didn’t undermine the work, it became part of it. And maybe that is the most valuable takeaway for any artist circling around imposter syndrome: "If people think it isn't art, that is fine. That is their opinion."

Recently, I spoke with the Syrian-Lebanese artist Ranim AlHalaky (her full story is on the way, so stay tuned), and I couldn’t resist asking her about imposter syndrome, because it always makes more sense to look at these things from inside the experience, not just from the outside. So here we go.

First of all, it is oddly comforting to realise you aren't the only one dealing with it. In some strange way, it is even useful to understand that imposter syndrome isn't always purely destructive, sometimes it can push you into making, trying, proving, and creating.

But still, are there any actual things that help when imposter syndrome hits too hard and too often?

The good news: yes, there are. And these aren't just vague internet tips, some of them come straight from my psychologist, shared here free of charge, with no request to split the bill for my session.