Very serious conversation about colours and paint. Probably. 😄

A workshop I didn’t plan for

When I created my first workshop, I didn’t specifically design it for children.

The idea was more to offer a creative pause for adults — a few hours to experiment, play, slow down a little and reconnect with making things without pressure. And these are things children do naturally; they don’t really struggle with that side of creativity.

But when a local mother contacted me asking if her 11-years-old daughter could join, I said yes.

Officially, the workshop was open to teenagers accompanied by an adult, but honestly, I was mostly curious to see what would happen.

And I’m very glad I said yes.

“I’m not Picasso either”

When her mother introduced her, she said literally:

“She’s not Picasso, but she loves painting.”

To which I answered:

“I’m not Picasso either, so I think we should get along quite well.”

Quite the perfect introduction to the workshop.

From the start, the atmosphere felt completely different from the previous session I had hosted with an adult attendee. More spontaneous, more interactive, more playful and also much more chatty!!

She was constantly asking questions, showing me things she created, sharing her favourite techniques.

At one point, she made a self-portrait that I was genuinely jealous of, because mine was quite terrible in comparison 😄

Throughout the workshop, she kept asking if there would be another one next Tuesday, if she could come back in September, if she could stay longer next time…

And clearly, she didn’t want to go home.

top view of little girl's hand painting a self portrait in a sketchbook, surrounded by art supplies — *I was so jealous about this self-portrait*

Remembering the child I used to be

After the workshop, I kept thinking about it.

It wasn’t that I suddenly decided to become an art teacher for children — something about the experience simply stayed with me.

I realised I used to be that little girl too.

I went to art classes when I was about her age. My parents took me to exhibitions, we had art books at home, and I was surrounded by cultural references without really realising it at the time.

I can still remember specific moments very clearly: a teacher showing slides of paintings, discovering artists I had never heard about, sitting in a classroom completely fascinated by an image projected on the wall.

Those moments stayed somewhere inside me and still shape the artist I am today.

messy artist studio corner with books on a chelf and bruches in pots and all sorts of sprays — *The slightly chaotic corner where ideas and references quietly accumulate.*

Not everyone grows up around art

During the workshop, she asked me about one of my paintings which she saw on a shelf.

I told her it was abstract, but she didn’t know what “abstract” meant.

It wasn’t shocking or sad. It just made me realise how much the environment we grow up in shapes what feels accessible to us later.

Some children grow up surrounded by books, museums, references and conversations about creativity. Others don’t, not because their parents don’t care, but simply because they didn’t grow up with those things themselves.

And I found it beautiful that her mother still supported her by bringing her to a painting workshop, simply because she saw how much her daughter loved painting.

You don’t need to understand art history to support curiosity.

*The painting that started a conversation about what “abstract” actually means.*

The idea of becoming a gate

And this is probably the thought that stayed with me the most afterwards.

Maybe I could become one of those people who open a door.

Not in some grand, life-changing way. But maybe by introducing children to artists, ideas, techniques, or simply to the feeling that creativity doesn’t need to be perfect to deserve space.

Maybe through landscapes, portraits, abstract painting, strange colour combinations, messy experimentation or simply conversations around a table covered in paint.

I don’t know yet what shape this could take.

But I like the idea that time spent in my studio could light a little spark for someone.

Because I still remember some of the sparks that were given to me.

Big table in an artist studio with workshop in progress, on participant, a child and a lot or art supplies

Letting the workshops evolve

One thing I’m slowly learning from these first workshops is that they don’t need to become exactly what I originally planned.

I thought I would mostly adjust timings, exercises and formats for adults.

I didn’t expect children to become part of the story.

But maybe that’s also the beauty of starting something new:
sometimes the most interesting direction is the one you didn’t plan at all.

wide shot of an artist studio, with a big messy table n the middle, covered with material and walls covered with canvases in progress — REPLACE BY SCREENSHOT, EMPTY SPACE AFTER THE WORKSHOP/ After the noise, the quiet that tells you something happened.

What teaching a young artist taught me about creativity