Last week I found myself crawling on a primary school stage with a paintbrush in one hand and half a glittery rose in the other, wondering (for the sixth time) how many shades of red it takes to make a rose feel magical. The answer, as it turns out, is three.
The backdrop in question was for a Year 6 production – a stained glass fantasy scene for the production of Beauty and the Beast – complete with towering roses, intricate stonework and a little bit of sparkle. I volunteered to paint it because it felt important. Because it was joyful. Because I could.
Creativity is not just about talent or output. It’s about togetherness. And when community and creativity collide, something astonishing happens: children beam with pride and adults remember they can still play and enjoy the power of creativity.
As Picasso once said, “Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up.” I say the problem is we don’t give grown-ups nearly enough PVA glue or paint.
Why Create?
We live in a world that’s obsessed with results. Deliverables. Outputs. KPIs. Creativity doesn’t care about your KPIs. It cares about your courage. About showing up with your heart and your ideas, messy and wild as they are, and offering them up to the world like, “Here, I made this.”
It’s why I give my time to charities like Sands and Beyond Boundaries, and to Worktree where I speak with young people about careers and confidence. Why I lend my brushes, my words, my voice. This October, I’ll be singing a song I’ve written for Sands and Beyond Boundaries, a collaboration that’s equal parts terrifying and healing. And yes, there will be harmonies. There may even be tears. Good ones.
Because art makes space for what words can’t always say.
Why Together?
When we create with others, not just for them, something deeper takes root. I’ve seen it in every workshop, every community project, every time a reluctant Year 6 clutches a paintbrush and decides they’re going to “fix” your leaf design (they always do).
We were never meant to go it alone. Not in business, not in grief, not in joy.
As the poet Rupi Kaur put it, “What is the greatest lesson a woman should learn? That since day one, she’s already had everything she needs within herself. It’s the world that convinced her she did not.”
And I’d add: the right community reminds you of that. Over and over again.
It’s Not a Duty. It’s a Privilege. A Spark. A Human Thing.
Sometimes I’m asked why I spend time on things that aren’t paid. Things that aren’t “business.” And the answer is… because they are the business. The business of being human. Of noticing the needs around us and responding with whatever tools we’ve got, be it Photoshop, a paintbrush, a platform, or just a strong cup of tea and a willingness to listen.
Kindness isn’t soft. It’s a radical act of rebellion in a world that often wants us to hurry up, shut down, and scroll on. It’s how we rebuild what’s been broken. And when someone else rises, we all rise.
Audre Lorde said, “Without community, there is no liberation.” And I say: without laughter, biscuits, and a borderline dangerous amount of paint, there is no school production worth watching.
So Here’s the Truth:
You don’t need to be an artist to be creative. You just need to care. And you don’t need to be a leader to lift others, you just need to show up, shine a little light, and hold a corner of the stage.
Community and creativity are not side projects. They are the whole thing. The reason we’re here. The reason we keep going.
And if ever you’re standing in front of something that looks too dark to face, too broken to fix, or too quiet to fill…
Get out the paint.
Raise your voice.
Make something.
Because if you can’t see the light, be it.