I told them I could not draw. They handed me a brush anyway. Two hours went by and I never once looked at my phone.
400 × 400
First-timer
Open Studio
Stories
The room where “I can’t” changes its mind.
Nobody walks in already good at this. They walk in anyway, and something in the room does the rest.
My mother is living with dementia. At Memory Arts she is not a patient. She is the lady who paints birds.
400 × 400
A daughter
Memory Arts
I had not sung since my service years. The circle did not care how I sounded. That was the point.
400 × 400
A veteran
Music Circles
She is not a patient. She is the lady who paints birds.