HIVEArts and me

At the beginning of 2024, I found myself in yet another mental health crisis. Sick of the cycle and years of being trapped in a system that saved me—but one I desperately wanted to get out of—I needed to find another way to get through the days. Where all of the old unhealthy urges were taking over, I had a counteracting urge to paint—to metaphorically get all that was paining me out. I scrambled in the depths of my chaotic cupboards to find whatever paint I had hoarded from my last painting phase, found an old canvas, and let rip. I threw, splatted, and dripped my very limited, very apt black, white, and red palette, cried, and let go. For the first time, I really connected with what I had created. It created the mindful place I had been reaching for for years, and I’ve been painting my experiences and emotions ever since.

There is a reason for this reflective, rather self-indulgent detour of topic. All of that led to me sharing my paintings and reasonings online, where I received many positive responses and encouragement to try and take it further—as I had many times over the years. Only this time, I had found something that helped, something I actually wanted to do, and a newfound attitude of trying to embrace all the things I once never would have. What was the worst that could happen?

And so I did. I asked around about places I could take my paintings, and HIVEArts came up quite a few times. I scoped them out online, left a message, and was told about the weekly Saturday get-together they hold—HIVEJive.

The next Saturday, I made my way to HIVEJive. Here is a little snippet from what I wrote about my experience then:

*“I was welcomed with a friendly hello, followed by more hellos, and offered a seat with the group of people there who were casually chatting. (On more than one occasion when I’ve been entering the doom of the unknown, I sort of end up awkwardly standing, hovering near the exit—so this was as helpful as it was inviting.) The people who run it suggested we all make our introductions, and so we did. I wish I could remember everybody’s names, but I can’t. They were really good about opening conversations with everybody. There were photographers, painters, printmakers, sculptors, and a jewelry maker who did something else—who I also can’t remember the name of. I was asked about what I did and hesitantly shared some pictures of my paintings. I got some surprisingly positive reactions—something about positive noises and words coming from creative, skilled, talented people makes my insides do a little dance. I was a little bit overwhelmed and overstimulated by it all, but the expected feelings of inadequacy didn’t come—even though I was in the company of people a damn sight more knowledgeable than me about a lot of things. And I think that says a lot about their nature, the motivations of the founders and board members, and what they are trying to achieve. I learned a lot about what has been put into building what it has become and loved the fact that its purpose is to step outside of the norms of the regular art world—that the average Joe would rarely have the ability to access—and give them a voice and a space to share their creations. The space itself is honestly my kind of vibe (must find another word for ‘vibe’). Industrial, raw, open—but not cosmetically so—and obviously, art everywhere, by an amazing artist, Helen Williams, who was holding an exhibit there. Anyway, it was an awesome place to be, and although I have only been once, I very much intend to go back regularly—and hopefully with less fear each time.”*

I did go back regularly—and with less fear each time.

I attended a photo talk with Adam Mousley and Kim Scott as speakers—one inspiringly reinforcing the decision I’d made to try and put my art out there and not be deterred by my own history, and the other, through a well-timed set of events, leading me to be running around Blackpool taking pictures of the protest happening. I snapped away on my phone, eventually bumping into Adam and another man of many talents—including photography—Ian Currie. Before I knew it, I was awkwardly tagging along, running around amongst vast crowds of moving people with my best brave face on, trying to capture the absolute chaos of the day without much deterrent, even during some genuinely scary moments. I couldn’t even begin to put into words the feeling of pride in myself, but also the feelings of gratitude for the people mentioned—the inspiration, kindness, care, and acceptance shown towards this random woman who decided on that day to jump in feet first with no knowledge, experience, or social skills. It was genuinely overwhelming—in the best way.

From there, I felt like this would be a place I could feel comfortable enough to get more comfortable in.

HIVEArts works with community at heart. They create and curate many exhibitions, openings, and events, and offer the opportunity to exhibit and for people to help out behind the scenes with the upkeep of the gallery and the ever-changing exhibits—something that takes a lot of manpower and time in an effort to provide the best viewing experience possible.

As an artist, I have found it very helpful, interesting, humbling, and exciting to learn from lots of other creative-minded people who go to HIVEJive and those who have come through to exhibit. Learning the work and passion that goes on behind the scenes also acknowledges that this doesn’t even scratch the surface of what it actually takes to organize and put these things together.

I have learned many practical skills I would not have known otherwise and would recommend to any artist interested in exhibiting to do the same. Understanding how the cogs turn to get your work out there grows an appreciation for things that often go unnoticed.

Personally, I have found growth beyond expectations. I have met some exquisite humans of all different backgrounds, creative mediums, and levels of expertise—each offering their own parts to learn from—and occasionally, I even share some of my own perceived wisdom or ramblings, depending on the day.

I have found a place to belong, in a world where it can be extremely hard to do so for people who feel like they don’t belong or fit anywhere. I have been gently pushed to do things I could never have imagined, embraced in ways I never thought possible, and encouraged to be my weird self—for which they may all end up being sorry.

The absolutely astonishing cherry on the cake for me was recently attending the opening night of Adam Mousley’s amazing photography exhibit, currently being shown downstairs at HIVE, Church Street. I was accosted on entry, left wondering what on earth was going on, desperately grasping my glass of wine, and ushered to a seat where the board members gathered for a meeting that I got the sense I was central to—only to be offered a place on the board amongst these people I had looked up to and been inspired by since the day I first walked into that place.

It felt very full circle.

I walked into HIVEArts Gallery a bumbling mess of anxiety, totally unsure of everything I was about to attempt. I went on to learn and love everything I have and do, admiring all of the efforts of the people involved, being persuaded into having my own exhibit—and now, being a part of the very thing that helped me grow artistically and personally.

Eight months. A lot of uncomfortable moments, art chatter, laughs, life happenings, and love—all playing a part in a path I could never have envisioned, and one I could not be more grateful for. If I can bring to others even a little of what they have brought to me, I’ll be a very proud human. If you have a love for observing art, creating art, or just hanging out in creative spaces—if you’re looking for a home with like-minded creatives, the weird and wonderful, and a wealth of knowledge—if any of this sounds like it could be for you, then HIVEArts is the place to be.

You can find us on all social media platforms, get in touch, and become #partoftheart.