Why making art matters: A masterclass with Nathalie Lawhead
By MetStudios, Berlin
07 April 2025
Nathalie Lawhead is a net artist and independent game designer renowned for their innovative and experimental contributions to digital art and gaming. Their work often blends elements of early internet aesthetics with interactive experiences that challenge conventional boundaries between art and games. Notable projects include Tetrageddon, a compilation of eclectic mini-games that earned the prestigious Nuovo Award at the 2015 Independent Games Festival, and Everything is Going to Be OK, an interactive zine that received the Interaction Award at IndieCade 2017. Additionally, their work has been featured in the Museum of Modern Art’s video game collection.
In a recent masterclass with students at MetStudios Berlin, Nathalie shared insights into the evolving landscape of the games industry, the significance of redefining success, and the vital role of embracing failure in creative processes. Their perspectives offer a hopeful alternative to the prevailing ‘doom and gloom’ narrative, emphasising the importance of individual artistry and cultural impact over financial gain.
Redefining success in the games industry
Challenging conventional notions of success
We no longer have the type of industry where we can chase financial success. Instead, we find ourselves in a position where we can only sustainably fail. Given the current political situation and all that’s going on in the games industry, everything feels a bit ‘doom and gloom’, and this can be incredibly discouraging. But what I’d like to share is the alternative perspective – one that’s inherently hopeful.
At games industry events and conferences, we constantly hear talks about making a ‘successful’ game. But success is an incredibly subjective term. In our industry, often defined less by cultural or social impact and more by money. But for those of us who pursue games as art, success means something completely different.
Advice on making a successful indie game is prolific and often contradictory. It becomes difficult to parse what makes a good game, or even what defines a successful one. Players have opinions wildly different from developers, and developers have different metrics from publishers. The truth is, success must be something you define and pursue on your own terms. If games are to survive as an art form, we must challenge these narrow notions of success.
The illusion of a safe career
It’s no longer realistic to promise a safe, profitable career in games just through hard work or education. But it is entirely possible – and profoundly meaningful – to promise that anyone can exist in the games space as an artist.
My journey as a solo developer
Recognition without financial validation
When I first pursued a solo career, I made games purely as my own art. I received plenty of accolades. My work, Tetrageddon, was eventually nominated for – and won – awards at IGF, after years of stubbornly submitting and repeatedly facing rejection. Eventually, it was included in MoMA’s permanent collection. Yet throughout that journey, I was criticised for not being financially successful. Even with my work recognised by one of the most prestigious museums, I still faced scepticism at mainstream industry events. From the industry’s standpoint, I was a failure because I didn’t make enough money. But from mine, I was successful precisely because my work had real cultural relevance and meaningfully impacted lives.
The games industry has historically prioritised entertainment as a product to sell. Art struggles to find equal respect. However, the past few tumultuous years – with mass layoffs, instability, and profits rarely trickling down to creators – have shown clearly that this current model is unsustainable. Alternatives are not only viable but essential.
Destigmatising failure
Individual artistry, personal creation, and pursuing games as art is perhaps the most sustainable way forward. Central to this sustainability is the need to destigmatise failure. Failure is our greatest asset. We need failure in games, especially as artists, because it fuels good game design. It provides space to iterate, evolve, and create something truly meaningful. Sustainably existing in games requires learning how to fail gracefully and constructively.
Embracing friction and controversy
How friction creates meaning
Every significant work I’ve made—from Tetrageddon to Everything is Going to Be OK – experienced initial friction and was often viewed as a failure. Eventually, they broke through, resonating deeply with players despite minimal financial success. My recent playable essay, Individualism in the Dead Internet Age, was explicitly set up to fail – deliberately embracing unpopular topics. Rejected by Steam and initially too controversial even for experimental events, it nonetheless resonated strongly with its audience on itch.io and was eventually recognised by IGF judges as a critically important work. In the end, everything about its supposed failure was precisely what made it succeed artistically.
Everything I’ve created has been seen at one point as too weird, too unmarketable, too loud. Yet I’m still here. Many who predicted my failure no longer are. Friction became a reassuring signal that I was onto something meaningful. Failure ultimately worked for me, precisely because I refused to give up.
Games and the constructive power of failure
Iterative creation
Games are inherently iterative, built around managing failure. Game design itself thrives on failure, using it constructively to evolve. And contrary to conventional wisdom, there is no safe, guaranteed route to success—not even by following all the industry rules. Success is erratic and deeply tied to the heart of a project and your intention behind it.
The simplicity of meaningful art
Nothing in our digital world—be it software, websites, or games—is without context or story. Early text adventures, though graphically minimal, created compelling narratives with mere words. Beautiful work doesn’t require fancy tools, massive budgets, or big teams—just the courage to create something meaningful yourself. That’s why I believe solo developers or small groups of friends will become increasingly established within games as a viable alternative.
Tech culture, responsibility, and resistance
Reclaiming technology from fascism
At this critical impasse, creators and artists must reclaim the tech space, resisting a fascism that dangerously appropriates tech culture. Tech doesn’t belong to fascists; it is inherently communal, democratic. Techno-capitalism inevitably leads to fascism; the only way forward is to recentre tech around a common good. Games are crucial to this effort. It’s our responsibility, as artists, to claim our space, imagine better futures, and build alternative, sustainable models outside of current exploitative structures.
Perseverance amidst cultural resistance
Early in my career, digital art and net art were looked down upon. My professors called digital art “not real art.” Today, similar scepticism surfaces in gamer hostility toward marginalised groups. Throughout it all, I’ve learned these judgments reflect the era, not you or your work. Those who doubted and criticised me often faded away, while my art continued finding a niche.
Accepting the identity of ‘game designer’
When I started out, I resisted my art being labelled a game, viewing myself instead as a net artist or interactive artist. Eventually, as the industry evolved and became more inclusive, I embraced the game space. Niche experimental spaces reshaped games, influencing even AAA titles. That’s when I felt confident calling myself a game designer.
Hobbyist roots and communal spirit
I began creating games as a hobbyist, inspired by an era when people shared code in magazines – a beautifully curious, creative, and communal culture. Today, seeing nostalgia for that early computer culture highlights a key truth: all software is fantasy. The digital world itself is our collective creation.
Defining success on your own terms
Ultimately, knowing success can’t be guaranteed is liberating. It lets you claim your space in the game industry entirely on your own terms. Success is no longer about profit margins or mainstream acclaim. It’s about your work’s impact, the space it occupies culturally, and the meaning it brings to others. Games are uniquely positioned to create that meaning, and we artists must bravely step forward, fail gracefully, and thrive sustainably – on our own terms.
Nathalie’s masterclass was based on their latest essay, “Why making art matters: We no longer have a type of industry where we can chase financial success. We can only sustainably fail”.
