“None of us do this for the money”, we are told as workers in the arts. Maybe this is true if you’re privileged enough, but the concept of a job for most people certainly is about the money. I have worked in UK galleries and cultural destinations for more than a decade and have seen the best and worst of the sector. There is no denying that the art world has a problem with class.
Statistics back this up: in the Arts Pay Survey published last month by Arts Professional, a publication for people working across the culture sector, 60% of working-class respondents said they faced “significant” barriers to entry, compared with 30% of their contemporaries from more privileged backgrounds. This affects not only who gets to work in the arts and how those of us from working-class backgrounds are treated if we do manage to break into it, but also what is shown in our institutions. The Courtauld Institute of Art in central London recently advertised an assistant curator role; for £38,000 a year, you were asked to have a PhD or “equivalent research”. Who, from a working-class background, is likely to be able to access that? Meanwhile, next week over 150 staff from across all four Tate galleries will go on strike in a dispute over pay.
Image courtesy Working Arts Club. Photo: David Owens
In 2007, I became the first person in my family to go to university. I got a scholarship for academic achievement which reduced my tuition fees for the first year. During fresher’s week, fellow students asked where I was from. When I told them I came from Margate, they laughed. I felt ashamed of my hometown. Then Margate’s shiny new art gallery, Turner Contemporary, opened the year I graduated. Designed to be a catalyst for regeneration in the area, it felt like I was the only person I knew who was actually happy about this new seafront landmark. I had an art degree and bucketloads of passion, but it took me several attempts before I scored even a part-time, front of house role there. Progression? No chance: the office at that time comprised staff from anywhere but the local area. I tried for years to get a job in London to pursue my dream of working in the arts. Any money I had went on train fares to attend interviews, so it hurt when I didn’t even hear back. Given how low the salaries were, I had to up sticks and move away when I eventually landed a job.
Being asked ‘where do you ski?’, ‘what was your favourite opera growing up?’ or receiving an email with a subject line in Latin can be draining…
When and if you do manage to break into the sector as a working-class person, a lack of aligned cultural reference points with peers or colleagues can leave you feeling isolated. Being asked “where do you ski?”, “what was your favourite opera growing up?” or receiving an email with the subject line written in Latin can get a bit draining. These are all things actually experienced by members of Working Arts Club – a network I set up in July last year, while working at a gallery in Mayfair, to support people from working-class backgrounds employed in the visual arts. The club creates opportunities designed to uplift working-class voices by programming professional and social networking events. Class is personal and complex, so anyone who currently has, or has previously held, a relevant job can join, as long as our cause resonates. By bringing like-minded people together, we are connecting and empowering those who may not have the contacts and access to navigate the industry as easily. It’s free to join and with over 1,000 registered members from all areas and levels of the art world, it’s clear the demand is strong. Members report feelings of impostor syndrome and having accents (which some hide or change to fit in) mimicked or insulted. Many of us are older for our roles than our non-working-class colleagues; we’ve grafted for longer to get a seat at the table.
Frieze Art Fair 2025 VIP preview in Regents Park, London, October 2025. Photo: Dave Benett / Getty
In less than 18 months, we have collaborated with the likes of the V&A, Hayward Gallery, Christie’s, Frieze, Photo London and Two Temple Place – as well as with artists and other networks – on panel talks, tours and career workshops. We’re also getting a bit of a reputation for throwing great socials and parties – Pat Butcher-themed Christmas do, anyone? The social element of this is just as important as the professional. At the moment, I run it for free alongside working full-time – it’s not easy. We have been London-based until now, but this week we’re announcing our first outpost of the club with an expansion to the north of England in early spring next year – and we won’t stop there.
It’s my ambition to team up with educational establishments on initiatives that broaden art access and knowledge. Fewer than 1% of state-supported secondary schools offer art history A-level. People studying the subject at university and entering the arts as a career are therefore far more likely to be privately educated. I’d like to raise awareness of which art jobs are out there, beyond actually being an artist. I often think about what would happen if more working-class kids knew they could become curators, or apply other skills – such as finance and communications – in arts environments.
This is deep-rooted, sector-wide systemic discrimination and there is so much work to do
After I spoke on a panel about accessibility at the Art Business Conference this year, I was cornered by a woman who told me that she “couldn’t disagree more” with what I’d said and that there was no class issue in the visual arts. I later found out she was a member of the aristocracy. That was the first time I had discussed class at an event that wasn’t specifically for people from working-class backgrounds. I was a bit shocked: it felt like a really inappropriate confrontation of someone trying to do a good thing. I politely disagreed, explaining my points further, and later vented to club members in our WhatsApp chat. It really is such a tonic to have our community at times like that. It’s hard, but it’s important not to have a chip on your shoulder or to feel aggrieved by the privileged; they’re not the problem. This is deep-rooted, sector-wide systemic discrimination and there is so much work to do. Right now, Working Arts Club feels like a drop in the ocean, but it’s a bloody start.
Meg Molloy is the founder of Working Arts Club and works as a director at a commercial art gallery in London. In 2025 she was named as one of Zetteler’s ’25 for 2025’.