Why I Stopped Chasing a "Niche" in My Artwork

“…if you’ve been contorting your creativity into a box just to tick a marketing box? This is your permission slip to stop. “

It started with good intentions, as these things usually do.
Every article, Pinterest quote, and online course told me the same thing: find your niche. It was meant to make things easier. Give your work a recognisable style. Help you stand out. Be “the artist who does [insert niche thing here]” and the clients, followers, and opportunities will come running.

So I tried. Really, I did. I picked a theme. I stuck to a palette. I even avoided certain ideas if they didn’t fit The Aesthetic I’d declared for myself. For a while, it looked neat and polished from the outside. But inside? I was bored out of my mind.

Creativity doesn’t work on a conveyor belt.
There’s a difference between being consistent and being stuck. The more I tried to narrow myself into a perfect little niche, the more creatively claustrophobic I felt. My sketchbooks became quieter. My experiments felt guilty. I’d catch myself thinking this is fun, but it doesn’t “fit”. And that thought would kill the joy before the idea even had a chance to grow.

Eventually, I had to ask: What’s the point of having a niche if it makes me want to avoid my own studio?

Your art is allowed to evolve. Actually, it needs to.
Here’s the thing about chasing a niche—it often forgets that artists change. We grow, get inspired by new things, go through weird phases, and sometimes want to do a total creative 180 for no reason at all. And that’s not failure, that’s being an artist.

I realised I was trying to freeze my work in one particular version of myself. But I’m not one fixed identity and neither is my art. Some weeks I want to do minimal collage. Some weeks I want bold, messy brushstrokes. Other times I’m deep in Photoshop making sleek mockups. I’m not interested in picking just one version and pretending that’s the only thing I’m about.

It’s OK to be “unpredictable” if that’s what feels true.
This doesn’t mean your work can’t have a thread of coherence. It usually does, even when you think it doesn’t. Style isn’t only about visuals, it’s also tone, concept, the way you use space or texture, the kind of questions your work quietly asks.

I’ve had people say they can still tell a piece is “mine” even when it looks completely different from my last one. And that’s the magic. That’s the real niche: you. Not the theme. Not the colour palette. Just… whatever honest version of yourself is showing up in the work that day.

So what happened when I stopped chasing a niche?
Honestly? I got braver. I let go of this idea that I had to curate my work for other people’s comfort or brand expectations. I started making things I actually liked. I felt more curious again. And funnily enough, people still connected with it—maybe even more.

The fear is always that if you stop being “consistent”, people will get confused and leave. But the truth is, people are drawn to authenticity more than rigid cohesion. They’ll come along for the ride if you let them see that you’re genuinely excited about where you’re going.

A niche can be a helpful tool. But it’s not the only way.
If you love working within a theme or have a defined style that lights you up, amazing, go for it. But if you’ve been contorting your creativity into a box just to tick a marketing box? This is your permission slip to stop.

You are not a product. Your work is not a factory line. And growth doesn’t always look like neat little rows of matching artwork. Sometimes it looks like chaos. Sometimes it looks like joy. Sometimes it looks like starting all over again.

And that’s more than enough.