access series: art education

The Cultural Learning Alliance set us off with a jolt by publishing their 2015 study on the state of art education in the UK. Whilst this study was definitely needed, it’s difficult to see worries become facts and dreams become declining statistics. The main finding of their study was that art had lost status, value, and visibility in the last 10 years, often side-lined in schools and disregarded by recruitment agencies. CLA wanted to uncover exactly what allowed this to happen. Their two stand out statistics, a 42% fall in Expressive Art GCSE entries since 2010, and a 27% decline in the number of arts teachers; a dried-up recruitment pool and the economy not stable enough for someone to give it a try. This is certainly the atmosphere that fostered my entry into art education, and it is still very prevalent in our own society, maybe even getting worse.

My first experience of an art education was in my final year of university, where a module on the Pre-Raphaelites was offered. That’s right, an optional extra, such is the general opinion of art education in our undernourished society. For six whole weeks I had the privilege of dipping my toes into something that cannot even be covered in an entire course, but I know that even that is more than some people have access to; I am grateful, but it left me yearning for more.  I had wanted to study art history since high school. I loved art, but was advised by my northern parents to not take it as a serious subject, and I loved English literature. My passion for both led me straight to art history; I had a deep infatuation with the romance of it all, the drama of it all, I thought it was an excuse to spend my time yearning over some troubled painter and uncovering the despair behind a mysterious composition. I realise now that I was caught in the trap of what art history is sold to us as, as a snooty excuse to use flowery language and prove to others that you are far more insightful than them. If I had the tools in my belt from an early age, I could have utilised that infatuation to help me discover more about my own history, social position, and challenge the structures that stood in my way as a young girl from Hull. It was never made clear to me just what art history can do beyond the surface; just how important it is to uncovering histories that escaped the tyranny of the pen; voices that defied written words; identities that formed all of us, not just those privileged enough to have masterpieces on their doorstep.

After completing my history degree, with that ever so crucial 6-weeks of Pre-Raphs, I felt bereft. It had been lockdown during my second year, so all motivation I had was lost entirely. I barely remembered anything I was taught in my degree, but I did hold on to one thing; the longing to learn more about art. I worked at a supermarket for a year whilst I pondered these thoughts. I spent most of my free time drawing and dying my hair pink. I decided at this time that I was going to try and break through as an artist; 21-year-old, pink fringed Nina, with no qualifications in art and hardly a clue what to do with a paintbrush, just a burning desire to create within me. I drew till I could draw no more, experimented with all kids of materials, redecorated the garden in my crash-course of how to oil paint. I made plans to become a tattoo artist. That was not enough to quench the desire I had for more. I wanted to know, to understand. I took my brassbound little 2:1 and applied to do a Master’s degree at Leeds University. They must have been short on numbers because my acceptance email and my mum’s squeals of pride couldn’t come soon enough. So, I packed up my hoarder’s collection of art books and pencils and journeyed across to Leeds to see what I could find.

As you can imagine, as a northerner in this environment, I became a total academic chameleon, using my charm and wit to fit into an academic mould that felt very far out of my league. I didn’t relate to anything that was being discussed around me, so I gave it an Oscar winning performance and scraped some fairly decent grades. The trouble is, although I was consuming information and somehow regurgitating coherent essays, I could not remember what I had written about or why. I only had the tools in the moment for a specific question; I could not take these tools with me to my wider world to ask questions about my own experiences and identity because I was not using my own identity, I was subsuming the identities of others in order to look like I understood what the hell was going on. Something that could have improved this for me could well have been a better study ethic at university and a harder drive for success, but I can’t be that hard on myself, I was only a baby and I didn’t want to sacrifice my Tuesday nights at Polar Bear or Spiders on a Saturday. What I believe could have improved this for me is a better understanding of what I was going into, to help me build confidence, an identity, so I could spot my own experiences in that of others and use the tools at my disposal to my advantage.

The STATE of Art Education up North

Art history is only taught in one state school in the north of England – Didsbury High School, not far from Manchester. Their manifesto of wanting to offer students the chance to develop a thorough and inspiring understanding of past cultures in relation to their own, to develop skills of visual literacy, analysis and reasoned debate that are so vital in the global, visual world in which we live today, is so refreshing and re-introduces art history with the urgency it deserves. From my experience, I came into art history through the lens of 19th century high society London. When I got to Leeds, I found academics who were researching women’s textile craft in the miner’s strikes. My mind was blown. I felt let down by the education system for not giving me full access to the range of art historical tools that could have allowed me to uncover stories of my own heritage. The north is grossly deprived of art education in higher education settings. We are bereft of the tools we need to understand the visual culture that so controls how our society operates.

The side-lining of art in our education systems, as perfectly outlined by the CLA, has shown catastrophic effects in how much we value art education as a subject for all. Without educational institutions legitimising art history as a genuine and important academic subject, it will continue to be considered irrelevant, and ‘not proper’. Rishi Sunak’s declaration that arts degrees were ‘Mickey Mouse degrees’ hit the north far worse that it did anywhere else. Degree level is effectively the only level of study available to students of the north without schools or colleges in the region delivering the course, barring good old Didsbury.

This issue has only become more prevalent in my mind since completing my MA. The barriers have become all the more visible to my somewhat trained eye. There is, however, someone who is taking this disparity to a whole new level…

On a tranquil summers afternooon I spoke with my good friend Will Clarke, a soon-to-be A-Level English teacher with a deep passion for the arts. We took our places on some rickety chairs amid a steady hum of people gathering outside the pub, armed with a wine and a pint, riding a wave of creative optimism and evening sun after spending the day at a writing retreat at Sunny Bank Mills just outside of Leeds. Will has spent the last year advocating for arts education in the north, delivering lectures and workshops to institutions in the north about how an art history A Level would nourish the minds of our youth. Like myself, Will has first-hand experience of the lack of support and opportunity for art education in the north. Originally from Grimsby, Will has worked all the way up the higher education system, beginning with his school’s sixth form college, Manchester Metropolitan University, and finally the University of Leeds with yours truly. One conversation with Will and you will be sure he is secretly a professor at Cambridge. To think such a brain came from such humble beginnings proves that it doesn’t matter where you’ve come from, anyone can have talent, and we are asking, no, demanding, that these people have access to the support and opportunities they need in order to make their voices heard.

As Will gracefully replaced his glasses for sunnies and gallantly too a sip of his oaky malbec, and I laying out a notebook and pen pretending to have the poise and allure of Miranda Priestley, settled down to try our hand in some earth-shattering journalism all in the name of access in the north.

I first wondered how Will came to study the arts, was his journey similar to my own? Or did he have more of a firm idea of what he wanted to do?

I asked Will, ‘What inspired you to embark on an arts education?’

He replied:

‘ Well, I always loved to draw and paint as a kid, I loved creating things really; the agency it gave me; it allowed me to think about things; the world. The way I thought about art as a child is so vastly different than what it is now. I always thought that art was about being creative and making things and enjoying making things, rather than a conscious act; a response to an idea or question; something political.’

This is often where things start to go downhill for us northerners. Our youthful creativity is championed by our parents, family, friends. We are centre of attention, a little genius. We just love getting dirty, making things. A bit of dismissal starts at around the time of GCSEs, your first ‘career move’, or so it is constantly relayed to you. I myself did not choose art at the request of my parents; what was I going to do with an art GCSE? Turns out I could have done a lot, if only I knew what art had in store for someone like me. As soon as art gets explorative, as soon as it encourages questions, you are no longer a genius, you’re a dreamer, a dillydallier, work-avoider, stupid. There is something about being able to express yourself and question your identity that is kept from us northerners. We are supposed to remain a hardened workforce, and this is very much reflected in the current education system. Art and art history do not welcome the north, our identities, it seems, not work preserving or exploring. This idea naturally led to the next question…

How well did the education cater for you, as a northerner?

‘At school, art was not valued. There was much less time for art compared to other subjects like PE, from the get go it is presented as not important. There was a lot of dismissal of art by teachers, who seemed to use the lesson as an excuse to get on with marking or other work, letting us wreak havoc with glue guns and shredded newspaper.’

Did your family have an opinion on your decision to pursue art?

‘My family were actually really supportive of my decision to take art further. I had always done it and I had a lot of skill which my family really valued; they could see how much nourishment I got from it. That being said, there was definitely a difference between my mum’s reaction and my dad’s reaction. Whilst they were both supportive, there was definitely some inherent reluctance in my dad, ex RAF and not a creative bone in his body. He wanted me to have security, money, a future, he had very little experience or knowledge of how art could provide me with this, and I get it, it is just the reality of his upbringing.’

It's become almost satirical, the trope of angry, demanding northern father crushing the dreams of his child in favour of industry and labour. Billy Elliot is perhaps the most severe example, but it still happens flippantly, think of Jim laughing at Anthony’s new job as a band manager in the Royle Family. Creativity and art as education is usually a laughing stock in working-class families, and understandably so. So far, art has not served them and has not offered them hope or change, but it bloody well can, if only they were granted access to it. Will and I spoke in more detail about the reluctance of men to accept creativity in their children..

‘Historically, art schools were spaces reserved for men. Art was a man’s game. A game of wealth and social status. This is generally the tradition that still sticks with our perception of what art history is and what it can do. There is a very significant class-based issue at the heart of our perception of art history. It’s as if working class people who want to study art history have traded in their roots and joined the other side. A lot of working-class men are driven on the idea of the labour market and post-industrialist productive labour – art is indirect labour – the impact of creative industries is harder to see in relative terms, so it is deemed invaluable and not productive’.

The absence of working-class voices in art history has led to this complete misunderstanding of the discipline itself and the power of arts education in the making and understanding of a culture. We see art through rose-tinted glasses, we have to understand it from the perspective it is given to us from, it is taught to us by people who find their own identity in these narratives, so we are forced to either be a chameleon, or give up. Will summarised the importance for an arts education in the north beautifully:

‘Art education allows people to be aware of their class, as something that can be altered and changed and questioned, as opposed to definitive and natural. Education can allow someone to critically think about their own position in the world and suggest changes, make changes, and be attuned to the issues that need to be changed in the first place. What we do when we learn art history is we approach it through our class; it puts into perspective our social situation. The north needs more of this and more opportunities for this because it is constantly devalued and spoken for. We get our identity constructed for us and we play to that image most of the time. The art world forces you to be competitive and shameless; this is prevalent across classes, although it stems from the idea that you must fit a certain high-class mould in order to sound legitimate. People cling to things that make them sound better; what makes you a better student, artist etc. Northern students are less equipped to fend for themselves in this competitive world if they do not have the vocabulary to support them and they do not see themselves represented in the vast arena of our culture.’

Geographical discrimination in art education has been on the steady decline for decades, although it’s possible that something optimistic is on the horizon. Just a few short months ago, no. 10 welcomed a fellow northerner, Andy Burnham, through its door. Andy, the former cultural secretary and mayor of Manchester has made public his involvement in community creative projects. He wrote an article for The Big Issue in May 2026, outlining the importance of art education and community creative projects as transformative tools to build relationships, solidarity, and nourish the health of a community. Speaking of projects across his constituency of Manchester, he stated, ‘ These initiatives are not about art as a distraction, but as a practical form of support.’ Can we put our faith in Burnham to finally make the arts a serious subject, as opposed to an extra curricula activity? Can he take this same determination of community projects and inject some urgency into our education system? Encouraging recruitment agencies and aspiring teachers to take up art education as a serious subject that nourishes our youth with the skills and tools that provide support, build confidence, and teach northern kids about their own identity and give them the opportunity to go out into the world with gusto. With Will in the fighting corner, surely there is something hopeful coming on the horizon. He has shown that despite the dried-up recruitment pool of art teachers, there are those of us with passion and drive, and despite the many stigmas of northerners, it’s true that we’ll fight till the bloody end.