Is the Royal College of Art Worth It? An Insider’s Take on Art School in the UK
What Is Art School, Really?
Before I dive into my own experience of attending art schools in both the UK and abroad, it might be helpful to start with the basics: what even is an art school? Speaking to the aspiring artist, or the parent, partner, or friend of someone considering it, you may only a fuzzy idea of what goes on behind those studio doors. You might wonder: Why go to art school? Shouldn’t I encourage my child to pursue something more stable? Is it worth it?
Art schools can go by various names, but what I’m really referring to are universities that offer three or four-year programmes focused on visual arts and design disciplines. The difference between art schools and academic universities is not only that art schools teach creative subjects, but that they offer something more unusual: the time and space to work independently on the development of ideas, artworks, and projects. They train you not to simply absorb existing knowledge but to invent and to create new ways of thinking and seeing.
Depending on your chosen discipline, this process will take on very different forms. Fine art students, for example, may spend much of their time working alone in studios producing paintings, sculptures, films, installations, or even conceptual works that exist only in thought or written form. Designers, architects, or product makers, on the other hand, might follow more structured briefs that mirror the practical realities of client-based industries. In this way, art schools model the distinctions between artistic and design-based practices: artists often work autonomously, while designers and architects respond to defined needs or commissions.
Even though art schools still require essays, lectures, and group projects, the majority of assessment is based on the body of work you produce and your ability to discuss and defend it, verbally and in writing. This is not something most students can prepare for in traditional schooling. You are left, in the best possible sense, to your own devices.
During my studies, I had the chance to spend a semester during my third year, abroad at OCAD University in Toronto, which follows the American university system, quite different from the academic systems used in the UK. The difference was both underwhelming and liberating in unexpected ways. Within the American university system, students can elect various subjects each year rather than specialising early. I studied Fine Art and had a focus in drawing and painting, therefore chose drawing and painting classes at OCAD. However, I found that many of my Canadian classmates were encountering the beginnings of portraiture, having elected it for the very first time, during their third year. The classes for me resembled those taken during my portfolio studies before university, and a far cry from what I expected to be learning at this level. In contrast, within the UK system, by your third year you were expected to be deeply developing your own unique approach within your chosen discipline, not sampling beginner techniques or starting from scratch. Because of this, I didn’t learn much directly from the classes.
Knowing I wasn’t going to gain much from the formal instruction, I started using the empty classrooms after everyone else went home. OCAD stayed open until 9 or 10 pm at the time, but few students stayed late, which left me alone in huge studios filled with large drawing boards I could manoeuvre around however I wanted.
Like at my UK art school, I was thinking in terms of bodies of work rather than individual projects, so I used that time and space to push the scale and ambition of my drawings. The large drawing boards were a revelation and inspired me to build four similar MDF-supported boards when I returned to Scotland. These became my new standard size for drawing and a tool for increasing studio wall space by stacking and leaning them against one another. That way I could have four large works going at the same time even inside a cramped, shared studio with limited wall space. It was such a game changer!
I understand the American system has its reasons for working the way it does, but its always been hard for me to imagine how students were expected to produce their best work with only a few short semesters of having their own studio space. In contrast, in the UK, it is a priority that students have dedicated studio space early, from year two, which grants students the much needed time and freedom to develop their practices more deeply.
My Early Experience in Art School
When I first started art school in 2010 at Duncan of Jordanstone College of Art (DJCAD) in Dundee, Scotland, I felt ready, having already been rejected from several programmes two years earlier and after which chose to spend those years in college strengthening my portfolio, learning new techniques, and understanding the expectations of higher-level art education. That extra time made all the difference.
The structure of UK art schools couldn’t be more different from what I experienced in Toronto. First years are generally what’s known as the foundation year, a time to explore before specialising. Instead of electing new subjects each year as in North America, you sample different disciplines within a single, focused year, building a broad base that prepares you to choose your specialism from year two onwards. It’s an experimental period, full of testing ideas, trying new mediums, and finding your footing in those early months.
The studios are usually open-plan, with students working side by side that creates a real melting pot of ideas and energy. You might have a painter next to a sculptor next to someone making short films, each borrowing tools or glancing at the other’s work for inspiration. At the end of each project, everyone gathered for group critiques to present their work, listen to feedback and learn to see your ideas from other perspectives. For students coming straight from high school, it was at times a shock to the system to suddenly carry the responsibility for direction in your work. But that’s also what made it so transformative: from the very beginning. You were being taught how to think and work like an artist, not just how to make something that looked good.
If I had to name the single most valuable thing that art school gave me, it would be time. Time and the freedom to get lost in my ideas, to experiment without the weight of external expectations. I learned what worked and what didn’t. I learned to listen to tutors and peers, not to change what I was doing for their approval, but to see my work through different eyes. I had access to professional artists as mentors, and I was surrounded by peers whose ideas and influences kept me questioning and learning. Above all, art school gave me the foundation of my creative voice.
What Art School Doesn’t Teach You
And yet, being a practicing artist in the real world is a different kind of education altogether. Finding your place in the art world, through exhibitions, residencies, open calls, or even just finding the right studio requires as much stamina as it does creativity. Balancing that with life finances, work, health, relationships adds another layer of challenge entirely.
It’s been ten years since I completed my first Master’s in Fine Art (Dundee, 2015), and two years since graduating from the Royal College of Art in London (2023), where I undertook a second Master’s with the intention of preparing for PhD research. I didn’t take that step lightly; I went in knowing that education alone couldn’t create success, but believing that it could deepen my work and open new directions.
The Royal College of Art: Reflections
The Royal College of Art is, without question, a unique and powerful environment to study in. I would be lying if I said I didn’t think that attending the RCA might lead to more outward success for my work, gallery representation perhaps, greater visibility, or new career opportunities. That didn’t exactly happen the way I hoped, at least not immediately, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t worthwhile.
I remain grateful for the experience, especially to have attended on a full scholarship from the Queen Elizabeth Scholarship Trust QEST, which gave me the freedom to truly explore my practice. What I learned there was less about outcomes and more about process. The RCA, like any art institution, cannot promise success or exposure. What it can offer, though, is something arguably more valuable: time, space, and critical distance—the chance to figure out what your work really is, who you are as an artist, and how to sustain that inquiry once the structure falls away.
Art school cannot guarantee opportunities for galleries to find you or for curators to take notice. Those external validations often come later, if at all. But the years of study do something else entirely—they give you the time to learn how to make your work. How to stay with it, question it, and rebuild it when it collapses. Sustaining that after graduation is less to do with your talent or outward successes, but rather what you as an individual chooses day to day in the long term. Art school might not hand you a career on a plate, but it does offer an invaluable foundation to grow from. Without it, carving out the long stretches of time needed to really delve into your work, to figure out what it is and how it’s made, is far more difficult.
On Persistence and the Artist’s Path
I know some artists are self-taught, and I have immense respect for that route. However I believe, art school provides a vital springboard. Still, no amount of education can replace the long, slow persistence it takes to build a life in the arts.
After two Master’s degrees, countless rejections, exhibitions, and years of self-directed practice, I can say with honesty that being an artist is not for the faint-hearted. It requires guts, conviction, and an ongoing commitment to show up for your work, especially when no one is watching. It really is so much more about what you do for years in your home office, studio or wherever you choose to make your work, when no one is watching. This is especially true for work that is time consuming. It’s easy to lose momentum and forget why you are pursing a work or project with zero contact with the outside world. Artistic success rather is built in the unseen hours, the silent repetitions, and the steady commitment to keep showing up when no one is watching
For Those Considering Art School
Having been through the UK art school application process six times, and having received full scholarships for both of my Master’s degrees, I know how intimidating it can feel. It’s easy to get overwhelmed, but it can also be deeply transformative when you approach it with the right information and mindset. That’s why I have created a free guide to help aspiring artists navigate the process with confidence. It covers everything from portfolio tips to funding advice, visa information, and guidance for interviews.
If you’re thinking of applying to the RCA or another UK art school, I hope this guide gives you a little more clarity and a lot less stress.
👉 Download Your Free Guide: Applying to UK Art Schools — The Complete Guide
In early 2026, I’ll be releasing an online course that takes your preparation even further, with more detailed guidance, examples, and the option for 1:1 mentorship. But for now, start with the guide—it’s the resource I wish I’d had when I was first applying.
There’s no single path to becoming an artist, only the one you create for yourself. Art school can give you a foundation, but it’s your persistence, curiosity, and daily commitment to your work that will carry you forward. Keep experimenting, keep showing up, and trust that your path will unfold in its own time.
