Art, Math, & My Dad the Rocket Scientist
Photo by Lum3n
Stereotypes and Art History
You don't have to dig too far into the art community to learn about the slew of stereotypes people associate it with daily. One of these is the idea that people considered "traditionally" creative (painters, musicians, dancers, writers, crafters...) are bad at doing anything related to math or science. This stereotype has woven itself into the fabric of our cultural consciousness, and it’s often perpetuated without much thought. Yet, it’s a notion that has always rubbed me the wrong way.
This false dichotomy between creativity and analytical thinking is not just an innocent misconception; it has real implications. I won’t go too far into the sociopolitical impact of creatives being bad at math, but they’re worth at least mentioning. For instance, it’s very adjacent to the issue where society imagines a starving artist as a woman, struggling to make ends meet while pursuing her passion. Meanwhile, when society wants to illustrate a persona for a world-renowned, successful artist, a man is depicted instead. This speaks to broader gender biases and the way creative success is often framed through a masculine lens. This portrayal not only limits the perception of what artists can achieve but also who gets to be seen as successful.
Photo by Una Laurencic
There’s even some far-reaching history to the notion, too. Art history is, unfortunately, a very accurate example of history being written by the victors. Many famous women artists before the modern period were not taken seriously during their careers. Some were even purposefully ostracized to prevent them from being more active participants in the community. These women, who should have been celebrated, were actively marginalized, their contributions downplayed or dismissed altogether.
More recently, this gendered bias crossed into how the arts and crafts movement was perceived. “Crafting” was belittled as a “traditionally” feminine practice, with crafting being used as a label for artwork of simple value that wouldn’t be taken seriously. This trivialization of craft diminished the work itself, but it also demeaned the women who practiced it. The artistic endeavors of these women were seen as lesser, not because of the quality or creativity involved, but simply because they were women.
Absolute bull, I know. Some people have clearly never seen a Frida Kahlo painting. Her work defies any notion that art made by women is somehow lesser. If you haven’t explored some of her lesser-known work, I highly encourage you to do so. Kahlo’s art is powerful, deeply personal, and technically brilliant— qualities that dismantle any attempt to belittle her contributions to art history. Her legacy, among others, is a reminder of the resilience and brilliance of women in the arts, despite the odds stacked against them.
Kahlo, Frida. The Wounded Deer. 1946, Oil on Masonite, Collection of Carolyn Farb, Houston, Texas.
The Same Loaded Questions
With this in mind, anyone who has ever wanted to pursue the arts as a career has likely had to face a mentality similar to the thought process behind the “artists are bad at math” stereotype. It’s a mindset that assumes artists are somehow deficient in other areas of intelligence, particularly in logical, mathematical, or scientific domains. This assumption manifests in the kinds of questions and assumptions people make about those in creative fields. Queue the questions and assumptions of people who don’t know any better... do any of these sound familiar?
- “That’s cool, but what’s your real job?”
- “What does your partner/husband/wife do for work then?”
- “Why do you even do it if it’s not going to make you any money?”
I’m sure you can see the pattern here. Those three snippets— as well as many others similar to them— all branch from the starving artist stereotype. They’re rooted in the idea that pursuing a creative career is impractical, unsustainable, and not to be taken seriously. They suggest that art is a hobby, something to be done on the side, but not a legitimate way to make a living.
This stereotype is pervasive and damaging. It undermines the value of creative work and those who dedicate their lives to it. There has been improvement with time, with more recognition of the economic value of the arts and the success of prominent artists in various fields. However, this mentality is still a very present belief in society today. The idea that artists need a “real job” to support their creative endeavors persists, despite the growing recognition of the arts as a viable career path.
I’ve been very fortunate to have had a supportive network of relationships, but even I have dealt with these judgmental notions outside of my immediate support group. These encounters can be disheartening, especially when they're stated by people who genuinely care about you but don’t understand the passion and dedication that goes into a creative career. Having to constantly justify your choices is a challenge. To explain that you can make a living doing what you love, and that, no, it’s not just a phase or a pipe dream.
I even have to admit that the influence of this belief held me back when I wanted to pursue my creative career. After pursuing a BFA in graphic design— one that took well over four years to finish due to personal issues and the world shutting down in 2020— I was worried I would never succeed. I feared that people, and more importantly, my potential audience, wouldn’t take me seriously. This fear was rooted in the stereotype that art isn’t a “real” career, that it’s something frivolous and unserious.
Photo by cottonbro studio
My Dad’s Advice, From His Background
HOWEVER… I began taking my Dad’s advice and influence to heart, both in pursuing my business and how I chose to approach my problems (math-related and otherwise). Let me tell you a little about him, and why that’s a good thing.
My Dad is far beyond intelligent. When I say that, I’m not exaggerating because of my respect and love for him. More often than not, he’s the smartest person in the room. He’s a creative problem-solver and incredibly efficient, so it may come as no surprise to you that his background is in aerospace engineering. His work requires precision and logical thinking that many assume is the polar opposite of what’s needed to be an artist. Yet, my Dad’s creativity and problem-solving skills have always inspired me.
To build on this, I know that my Dad has many traits other men want and envy. I could see some people being intimidated by his position or just from knowing who he is. His smarts, his work ethic, and his ability to solve complex problems are qualities that others admire, and they have certainly had a profound impact on how I approach my siblings and I approach life and work.
But let me tell you another important thing about him: he has three children (me included). All daughters… no sons, except the family dog (haha). This might seem like a small detail, but it’s significant. Growing up in a house full of girls, my Dad could have easily succumbed to societal pressures to want a son, to long for someone to pass down his traditionally “masculine” interests to. But he never did.
I’m sure you can imagine some of the questions casually thrown my Dad’s way as a parent. Here’s a sampling, pulled from real-life experience:
- “You’re overrun! Aren’t you going to try for a boy?”
- “Is it disappointing, having to do a bunch of girls' stuff all day?”
- “How do you keep your cool around a bunch of women all the time?”
These questions are loaded with assumptions about gender roles, about what men and women are supposed to be interested in or capable of. They suggest that my Dad’s experience as a father of daughters is somehow less fulfilling or more challenging because he didn’t have a son to share “manly” activities with.
Now let me tell you my Dad’s response— one of the many reasons I love him to death and am incredibly grateful for him. He’d stand his ground every time and ask some variation of “What’s wrong with my girls?”
This simple yet powerful response says so much about who my Dad is. He didn’t see us as limited by our gender, nor did he feel that his experience as a father was lacking because he had daughters instead of sons. He recognized that we were individuals with interests, talents, and potential, and he supported us (and continues to support us) in whatever we chose to pursue.
Photo by Antoni Shkraba
How That Mindset Laid the Groundwork
The older I’ve gotten, the more I’ve appreciated his stance. He never expected me or my sisters to be naturally better or worse at anything, period. His fundamental beliefs always came down to the fact that he believed we could learn and do anything we set our minds to— that we were just as capable as the next person in front of or behind us in line.
This mindset has had a profound impact on how I approach challenges in my own life. There are plenty of stories I could share that are funny, sentimental… and both. Let me just say that there’s no timeline where you grow up with a loving engineer father where you aren’t taught how to change a tire yourself. It’s a rite of passage in our household, and it’s an emblem of the broader lessons my Dad imparted to us: self-sufficiency, problem-solving, and the belief that we can tackle whatever life throws our way.
But because of that, my sisters and I don’t believe we’re incapable of doing something new just because we don’t know where to start. Sure, we have human doubts and emotions like everyone else, but we know how to learn, to scour for resources so that we can be better equipped to achieve our goals. This resourcefulness is something that I credit directly to my Dad’s influence. He taught us to be curious, to seek out knowledge, and to never be afraid of hard work.
There’s a little over a decade between me and both of my sisters, but I already see these traits in them now. And it makes me beyond overjoyed to see them evolve into the capable, powerful, and joyful forces of nature I know they can be. Watching them grow and develop their strengths has been one of the greatest joys of my life, and I know that my Dad’s influence is a big part of why we are who we are today.
Having someone that believes in you is an incredible gift. It gives you the confidence to pursue your passions, to take risks, and to push through the challenges that inevitably arise. My Dad’s belief in us has been a constant source of strength, and I’m incredibly grateful to him.
And if you don’t have someone who believes in you right now? You are capable of believing in yourself and overcoming every obstacle you set your mind to. Self-belief is powerful, and it can carry you through even the toughest of times. It’s not always easy, but it’s worth cultivating. You don’t need someone else’s validation to pursue your dreams— you need to believe in yourself.
Photo by Leeloo The First
How Does That Apply to Creatives?
There’s a huge emotional component behind that mindset, where you believe you’re just as capable as your peers. That part is undeniable, but not as many people recognize that it has a pragmatic side. Believing in yourself is not just about feeling good; it’s about taking action and making plans to turn your dreams into reality.
Dad gave me a lot of detail-oriented advice too over the years. With me expressing interest in a creative career from a young age, he encouraged me to do a variety of things to build up my stability. He understood that pursuing a creative career could be challenging, and he wanted to make sure I was prepared. He encouraged me to invest in backup plans, expand my skill sets, and dig deep into myself… so that I could create a practical plan to create the life that would make me not just happy, but satisfied.
His support was how I built up the confidence to work hard physical labor jobs as a young woman. I worked in plant nurseries, landscaping, warehouses… the works, and even met the love of my life working as a warehouse runner in a baseball stadium. Those labor-intensive jobs taught me a ton: how to talk with anyone, how to advocate for myself, and how to manage my time so that I could work on my art and freelancing after work.
I learned that I was more than capable of ensuring my stability so that I could work towards my dream in the long term. This stability gave me the freedom to pursue my creative passions without the constant fear of financial instability hanging over my head. It’s a balance that many creatives struggle to find, but it’s crucial for long-term success.
Knowing that I can back up my word has made dealing with stereotypes a lot easier. Of course, there will always be times when I get my feelings hurt. It’s impossible to completely shield yourself from the negativity that sometimes comes from others who don’t understand your path. But it’s become a lot easier to get back on my feet because I know my worth and capabilities.
And to tie this all up in a bow— I’m still not naturally amazing at math. I have to work harder at it. But I’m confident I can tackle difficult math when it falls on my plate. I’ve learned that it’s not about being naturally good at something; it’s about having the determination to learn and improve. Math, like any skill, can be mastered with practice and persistence.
Photo by Ryutaro Tsukata
Want to See More?
I’m still building the blog, so I don’t have as many posts to recommend at the moment. However, I’d like to include three blog posts in this section for you to check out in the future. These will cover topics ranging from creative inspiration to practical advice on pursuing a career in the arts.
Until then, I’m looking forward to sharing more with you next week. I’m excited to continue this journey with you and to explore the intersection of art, creativity, and life together.
Thank you for taking the time to read this, and I hope you have a great rest of your week!
–Camden
Photo by cottonbro studio