The Ebb & Flow Studio Origin Story (pt 1)

Tell me why the Hakuna Matata song came into my head when I typed in that title? Specifically, this part:

Let's run with it.

When I was a young warthog, in my Art Therapy student days, I was introduced to the concept of an open studio. My school, Kutenai Art Therapy Institute in Nelson, BC, which I attended as a distance student, hosted one on a weekly basis at the time that I began the program. That was in 2019, in the before times. Basically, this meant that once a week they would open their studio doors to the entire community - anyone and everyone was free to come into the space, have access to ALL of their art materials, drink tea, and make art together. As a distance student, my program began with a 3-week immersion - 3 weeks to kick off the program in person at the school full-time. When I tell you it was one of the most intense 3-week periods of my life, I am not exaggerating. The person I was when I drove out to Nelson from Saskatoon that summer (with a terrible case of strep throat, no less) was NOT the same person who drove back from Nelson to Saskatoon 3 weeks later. That experience changed me fundamentally as a person. But that's a story for another day.

It is important to note, however, because when I began that journey, I was a person living a very different life. Up until this point in the story of my life, I had no idea what it was like to have community, or what it meant to be a part of one. I was fully immersed in the individualistic culture that I had always known. And never thought much of it.

It's also important to note that I did not attend the open studios facilitated at my school while I was living in Nelson over those 3 weeks. Not once. I mean, yes, I was pretty sick for the first week, but even with 2 more opportunities, I didn't go. I thought it was a cool idea, but I was too shy to think of going by myself, or with my new classmates that I barely knew. I was also grappling quite intensely with imposter syndrome - my perceived lack of artistic skill, my fear of not being worthy enough to be doing this work I was seeking to do, my deeply felt sense of being an outsider. All these things kept me from going, even when my soon-to-be dearest friends told me how fun and magical it was.

I didn't go. Not even once.

When I returned to Saskatoon to continue the program online, we were tasked with finding our own, local practicum opportunities. I had been lucky enough to be connected with someone named Marlessa at St. Paul's Hospital. I learned that she was the Artist in Residence there and worked within the Healing Arts program, which made bedside visits to patients on the dialysis and palliative care units, and included a community open studio.

I will never forget the energy the first time I walked into that studio. It was buzzing with creativity and laughter and connection. Patients came down from their rooms, their family and friends joined them, and their community members wandered in and out, creating and chatting in a constant stream for hours on end. I still get a little teary-eyed when I think about it. There were stories told, inspiration evoked, skills and knowledge shared, and artwork created and admired. What amazed me most was how the art making seemed to be so natural an accompaniment to all the other components. It felt organic - of course we're going to sit and laugh and share our stories and also make art together. Why wouldn't we. This is what we're meant to do.

Now I swear this wasn't an intentional set up, but I am seeing the significance of Hakuna Matata in this moment as I'm writing these words. In a place where every single person in that room had very real worries - health concerns, financial struggles, loneliness and isolation, trauma and grief - some worries and pains I couldn't even imagine having to hold - there was so much laughter and joy. When we were all together in that space, the worries seemed to feel a little lighter because we were all holding them together, for one another, sharing them in the art and the stories we told.

For months I had the pleasure and privilege of being in this space, meeting hundreds of new and amazing folks. It was there I learned how to felt, it was there I came to know the power of creativity in healing in a new way, and it was there I learned the value of community.

Then the plot twist we all know - COVID hit. And for the rest of my Art Therapy practicum there was no Healing Arts Studio.

To be continued...

I remembered while writing this that I made a clay warthog back in 2020... here she is, being held up by a harmonica.