It is no surprise that careers in the arts are dying— or perhaps are already dead. We live in a world where the main objectives are to make money and stay productive. Because of this, the arts have become indulgent, something nice to enjoy in your spare time, but not necessary. And yet, at times of turmoil and uncertainty, as humans, we turn to the arts— the very thing deemed unnecessary— to bring us comfort, space and meaning.
Over the recent years, I’ve noticed a cultural shift: Careers are valued primarily by how much money they make and degrees are now weighed against employability statistics. English was once the cornerstone of education, but is now dismissed as impractical or even foolish. Ironically, in Scotland, most students hoping to get into university are required to have passed SQA Higher English, and that requirement is not applied to any other subject.
And yet, applications for English degrees have declined as they’re seen as unemployable. I would argue the opposite. The ability to read and think critically, communicate persuasively, and understand human stories is not only employable but also essential. But perhaps I am biased. As a soon-to-be English and Classical Studies graduate, I am fully aware that I am on the brink of selling myself to the very system I am criticising.
The anxiety feels especially visible in film and music. In November, while on the London underground, I saw a poster for The Devil Wears Prada: The Musical. My first reaction was one of delight! It sounded like an exciting, nostalgic concept. But then, considering we are also getting a remake of the film, another thought lingered… why are we so obsessed with re-making cinema classics?
I reached the conclusion that originality is no longer prized because it is risky in the arts. Film studios need to make money, and remakes, reboots and adaptations come in with built-in audiences. Thus, creativity has been replaced by predictability. Art, once a gamble, has become a spreadsheet.
This is reflected in who we see on screen. I love Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi, starring in the new adaptation of the classic Wuthering Heights, but I feel like genuine breakout stars are increasingly rare. Audrey Hepburn was once plucked from the crowd by William Wyler for Roman Holiday, chosen purely for talent and presence. Today, when new actors emerge, they are often “nepo babies”. This is not a critique of their ability, but of access itself. For actors trained in drama schools without famous surnames or connections, breaking into the industry now feels almost impossible.
However, this is not just unique to the arts. In corporate careers, too, who you know often matters more than what you know. University, to me, is less about education and more about networking. The arts simply expose this reality more brutally, because they offer fewer financial safety nets.
And yet, without people wanting to pursue careers in the arts, what do we have left? The arts give us a language when we can’t articulate how we feel, offering both escapism and reflection. Careers in the arts may be dying, but they are also the reason we feel alive. The real question is not whether we can afford to save them, but whether we can afford not to.