Trust, Abundance, and So Much Slime
At Art Club, we go outside a lot. When the energy starts to buzz too loud inside the studio, when the room feels like it might lift right off the ground, that’s our cue. We head for the door.
They don’t walk out of the Artspace— they burst.
Slime time.
They run in circles. They become buses, passengers, dogs, police. Gravel becomes air. A handful of stones tossed skyward becomes a kind of exhale.
“Buddy,” I remind one of them, “you may not throw rocks toward people. But if you want to throw rocks, throw them away.”
I think that’s the rhythm of this work—how to hold their wildness with gentleness, how to turn “no” into a different shape of “yes.”
Inside, someone discovers shaving cream and before long, we’ve got slime. I hate slime. I didn’t plan it. But it’s safe and its making their eyes light up with joy, so I’m squirting soap into their trays and watching them sink their hands in the wet goo. Hands smear, swirl, dig, pat, pull.
Every week feels like that: a balance between safety and freedom, between the rules that keep us all okay and the kind of creative abundance that makes the world feel open.
Trust and abundance are what keep this space alive. I trust the kids to follow the non-negotiable rules while exploring, testing boundaries, and choosing what to work on. I trust them to feel their feelings fully and make their own creative choices, knowing that sometimes they’ll push edges—and they trust me to hold the line with care and consistency. And I trust in abundance: that there will always be enough—glue, paint, shaving cream, boxes, tape- and even when there isn’t -that the community will come forward. That we will all take care of each other in this way.
There are so many hands at play here—kids, parents, neighbors dropping off old art supplies, a church donating an easel. The generosity ripples outward. I take a picture of every handwritten note that comes with a donation. Evidence of all the unseen hands holding this space up.
Again and again, we make space- and it fills.
