Have you ever said the words "I don't have a creative bone in my body — I can't even draw a stick figure?"

Firstly, Patricia, I don't believe you.

Secondly, can you write the letters U-R-A-Q-T? The numbers 3, 8, and 4?
Yes?
Then you can absolutely draw a stick figure. 

And I'm going to show you how to draw a damn good one.
Your stick figure is going to be so sexy.

And we are not stopping there. This is not a threat — it's a promise. (That last part was a threat.)

We will draw lightbulbs, cups, mugs, chairs — yes, I said chairs — and before you leave, we are going to shade some things and add a shadow. Buckle up, Cheryl. It's on.

Real talk — sass suspended for approximately three minutes:

The reason you don't believe you're creative is that you stopped trying. And that's not your fault. Research shows that most children stop drawing between the ages of 9 and 12 — not because they lost the ability, but because self-criticism and the fear of judgment won. Creativity requires courage, and courage is a lot to ask of a kid who's already navigating everything else.

As Dr. Jeremy Nobel, MD, founder of the Foundation for Art and Healing, puts it — making art decreases cortisol and increases dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin, and endorphins. At the very least, you'll be less stressed and in a better mood.
At the very most, you'll discover that learning to draw feels less like steamed broccoli without cheese sauce and more like backstroking in fluffy marshmallow creme.

That elusive flow state everyone keeps talking about?
It's just becoming so absorbed in what you're doing that the outside world ceases to exist. Achieving it without cocaine really is a blessing.

You'll leave with: A basic understanding of how to render images from simple shapes, the ability to sketch rough ideas, and a brand new habit of illustrating your notes with tiny drawings that will delight everyone around you.

Your inner critic will be furious. 

This one is for the person who loves new things, is interested in everything, and always wins Friday night trivia at the pub. You know who you are.

Two hours. Every art supply in the room. Zero commitment required.

Dry Media — the starting line We start with the classics. Graphite, pastels, colored pencils, and art crayons. Deeply satisfying in ways you didn't expect.

Wet Media — the real mess makers Then we get serious. Water-soluble pastels, water-soluble ink pencils, watercolors, and finally acrylic paint. This is where things get gloriously unpredictable.

By the end, you'll have worked your way through an entire art supply store and lived to tell the tale.

You'll leave with: A small folio of samples — different papers, different media, all annotated with your own notes, thoughts, and discoveries. Plus a beginner-friendly shopping list for any medium that made your brain light up.

Think of it as a first date with every art supply in existence. Some will ghost you. Some will change your life. Either way — no regrets.

Printmaking is one of the oldest forms of human expression. Cave dwellers did it. Renaissance masters did it. And now, in a slightly less dramatic but equally rebellious act, you're going to do it too.

Armed with a carving tool, a small block of rubber, and approximately zero prior experience, you are going to make a stamp. A real one. Yours. Made entirely by your own hands.

Here's the part nobody tells you: carving is deeply, unreasonably satisfying. There is something primal about dragging a tool through a surface and watching a design emerge from nothing. Every line you remove is a decision. Every decision is yours. No autocorrect. No undo button. Just you, the block, and the quiet confidence of someone who is absolutely handling a sharp object responsibly.

We'll work through carving technique, explore what your stamp can do across a variety of inks and papers, and by the end of the evening, you'll have made something that is completely, stubbornly, permanently yours.

You'll leave with: A hand-carved stamp that exists nowhere else in the world, a collection of sample prints on different papers and surfaces, and the deeply satisfying knowledge that you made something from scratch that will outlast the evening.

Also, possibly ink on your hands for the next three days. You’re welcome.