Zines made by the Jessica Lim’s students. (Provided photo — Peter Berra)

I am feeling eager. The thawing does that to me. I’m excited to swim in a lake, to garden, to have a picnic. I want to jump on my beautiful old bike and go for a ride with C on the rail trail. I’m also ready to try something new. This summer, I want to get creative.

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Benefits of creativity

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And why not? The benefits of creativity are well studied, and the results are positive. Creative activities can help us manage and process our emotions, teach us problem-solving skills and help us build purpose in our life. The field of art therapy contends that the benefits are doubled when we engage in companioning artmaking, the practice of creating art alongside others to feel connected and supported, while still focusing on your own individual piece.

There’s something special about making art in a shared space. I see the good that it does my students when I assign creative projects. A collage, a zine, a poem, a photo series. Students talk while they work, they inspire each other, they are supportive and encouraging, they are kind. Without me asking, they naturally contribute their art materials and skillsets and call out their free treasure like they’re hawking at a market. I got extra scissors! Who needs wrapping paper? I have a bag of yarn and crochet fast!

The sound in the room is a soothing hum — it ebbs and flows with the pulse of creativity. I sit with groups of students, check on their process, listen to their family stories. My students learn a lot during the creative classes, but most importantly, they learn how to thrive in a community. I learn too, about my students and their lives, about what the world is like for them, and I learn why art matters for a young adult today. Without hyperbole, my students tell me that art saves them.

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Why art matters

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I met G a year ago when he was 20 and struggling through my class even though he’s too smart to struggle in any class. G’s real battle, I found out last month, is a cocaine and alcohol addiction. He went to rehab, went through the steps and is sober now. There’s gratitude in his voice when he talks about being here today and back in school. There’s uncertainty, too. “My dad’s been sober since he was 19,” G said, like it was a compass to navigate the jungle of his own addiction.

He wants to make a skateboarding video for the final project in my course. He described his most artistic tricks, the one he finds especially challenging, and his impatience to skate after the winter. He said he uses a broom to sweep away gravel on the street long before the sweep trucks have gas in their tanks. How long does that take, I wonder.

“A few hours,” he says. “It’s cold and tedious. But I love skating.”

I hear that, and I understand what skateboarding means to him, and how far his will can take him. This summer, G will skate sober.

I learnt all this while G made art, in his flow. He never misses class and often tells me how much he enjoys making art in the open studio. A lot of my students say the same, and I know their words are genuine because they vote with their feet. My class is full, a hive of activity – busy, creative, alive.

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Art hub

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My students make me optimistic. They are bright, caring, hard-working, fun. I know they face challenges though. Addiction is just one example of their burdens. I could tell you about the student whose dad has stage IV cancer, or one who was homeless for a time, or the teenage mother of two young children, or the list of mental health problems, of money problems, of physical health problems. There are some who are lucky, who have stable homes and finances and health, but at the college where I work, they are not the norm. The norm struggles in some way, and for the majority, the opportunity to be creative in an art group is healing. I see it in their drawings, I read it in their poems, I hear it in the classroom hum.

I’ve been thinking of ways to generate these moments outside of my classroom. What might happen if we gathered to make art in a shared, local space? What if our collaboration was an artistic refusal of despair and cynicism? What would it mean? I have an idea, and it’s called Art Hub. I’ll tell you more about it soon.

Prompt: Tell me why art matters to you.