Beyond a history classroom

My journey toward art history did not follow a conventional academic pathway. As a student trained primarily in applied art, I lacked formal instruction in historiography, theory, and academic writing. Entering art historical discourse initially felt intimidating, marked by unfamiliar language and assumed competencies. Yet this sense of being underprepared became the catalyst for self-directed learning.

I began by undertaking personal research projects, not with the aim of mastery, but survival, trying to understand texts that initially felt inaccessible. Academic reading did not come naturally. Instead, clarity emerged gradually through repetition, frustration, and persistence. Attending ICOM-CC seminars and free webinars conducted by professors from some of the best universities of my country exposed me to scholarly conversations that prioritized questions over conclusions. These spaces demystified academic authority by revealing scholars as thinkers in process rather than gatekeepers of fixed knowledge.

Entry-level courses in conservation, folk art, and data interpretation (offered by institutions such as IITs) provided structured grounding. Completing these courses with distinction was not merely about credentials; it was about building confidence in my ability to engage seriously with theory. These experiences also reinforced the discipline required for sustained study, like note-taking, re-reading, and reflective writing.

Reading accessible yet rigorous platforms such as MARG magazine and long-form newspaper articles proved particularly transformative. These texts bridged the gap between academic research and public scholarship, demonstrating that intellectual seriousness need not be obscured by opacity. Through them, I learned how arguments are built, evidence contextualised, and ideas communicated with precision.

A pivotal moment occurred during a seminar with Dr. Fischer, a historian whose approachability fundamentally altered my perception of theory. Asking him a question and receiving a thoughtful, encouraging response dismantled the intimidation I associated with academic spaces. Theory ceased to feel exclusionary; it became conversational, dynamic, and human.

Dreaming of becoming an art historian outside a history classroom required discipline, humility, and strategic resourcefulness. It involved recognising gaps without internalising inadequacy. This process has shaped my academic identity as one rooted in persistence and ethical curiosity rather than linear training. It has taught me that preparation for advanced study is not defined solely by formal degrees, but by the seriousness with which one engages with learning itself. It has also increased my appreciation for cost-free, accessible and good quality education.