‘Videos? I’m sure Dad has some old VHS thingies but how would we play them?’
I shake my head.
‘Violin?’
‘How about I put you out of your misery? Today we’re volunteering.’
Alice folds her arms. ‘Here in your studio? Does that mean I’m volunteering to help you work for the day? I know you’re busy Zach, but you can mix your own paint up.’
‘So quick to judge.’ I step closer to her, kissing her on the forehead. ‘Back when we went to your allotment for our G date, you told me all about volunteering with a gardening group when you were at uni. You explained how it had helped you to deal with your mum and how rewarding it was to see other people benefit from your efforts.’
Alice nods.
‘That really stuck with me,’ I carry on. ‘I remember thinking how brilliant you were for taking your own tough times and channelling them into something so positive. Recently I’ve been wondering about some volunteering opportunities for myself, only I didn’t really know where to start. Then last weekend in London, I met a young artist who’s working at Octavia’s gallery and panicking that she’ll never get to where she wants to be … turning her passion into a career. It made me think of me and you and how lucky we are to be doing what we love, but how much we’ve both fought to get here …’
‘God yeah, I remember being in my early twenties and having zero clue if the flower shop would work, if I’d ever make money again, if I’d have to give up on my goals and do something different.’
‘Exactly! That time of your life can be really daunting and it’s not just an early twenties thing. Life constantly throws challenges at us. Look at Raff. To me, he has it all – the family, the house – but he’s still looking at people like us who don’t have the same kind of responsibilities like kids and, uh, stuff …’
‘And he’s envious?’
‘Sort of. I think there’s a grass is greener thing going on for most people.’
‘I totally agree.’
‘So today I’m running my first art therapy workshop. We’re going to set up the studio so that people can come along and get creative in any way they’d like, giving them the chance to get some headspace and do something that hopefully takes them away from their concerns for a couple of hours.’
Alice gives me a side-on look.
‘Seriously? I love that idea, Zach. I take it I’m the headline artist in residence for the day?’ she teases.
‘Oh, sure,’ I say, pretending to hide the fliers I made last weekend which have my name at the top. ‘These read: “ART SPACE, come get creative and get away from it all with renowned artist Alice O’Neill. She may even help you make a papier-mâché ‘moon’”.’
Alice laughs. ‘Right, well I’d better get ready for my starring role.’
Twenty-six people have come to the workshop and I have to say I’m pretty chuffed with the turnout, given how quickly I pulled it together. I’ve been leaving fliers at cafés, colleges, old people’s homes and charities and now my studio is full of people looking nervously around, wondering what to expect.
‘Hello, everyone, and welcome,’ I say, standing up on a chair to get everyone’s attention. ‘It’s brilliant to see so many people here today. The main aim is for you to relax and enjoy yourselves, take your mind off any worries and just have fun. There are loads of materials over in the corner, please help yourself and get creative in any way you want. I’m on hand if you’d like any tips or advice but also, you can ignore me too! Today is a no pressure day. This is Alice who’s helping out as well, and we’re both happy to chat.’
Alice waves and I walk everyone around the studio, pointing out where they can help themselves to drinks and snacks and grabbing them all a chair. Soon enough the room is filled with the buzz of concentration from some and happy chatter from others, as Alice and I work our way around everyone, listening to stories or proffering biscuits.
I get chatting to Dexter, a teenager whose parents are desperate for him to follow in the family business while he wants to go to uni and study art. Then Tricia, who has brought her elderly father Eric. He has dementia and she’s hoping a day of drawing will bring him one of life’s simple joys. And a solicitor called Jacqueline who ‘just needs a fucking break’, she says.
‘Dexter says he wants to draw you naked,’ Alice says later, her paint smock splattered with colour.
‘Oh …’ I stumble. ‘Um …’
‘Don’t worry,’ she laughs. ‘I’ve told him it’s not that sort of art class. It’s made me think, though. Maybe there’s something we can really do with this.’
‘You want me to set up a life drawing class next? Because I’m not sure that’s quite my thing.’
‘I meant this workshop. Just look around you, Zach.’
I follow her gaze around the room, watching people from all different walks of life getting stuck into creating something. Eric’s face is lit up in animation as he shares a joke with Jacqueline, Tricia looking on with a huge smile on her face. A guy called Bryn who’s in the middle of a break-up is drawing a picture of his dream holiday and says he plans to travel there on his own, his first solo trip in six years.
‘Everyone is getting something different out of this. Just look how happy they are. Maybe we could contact an art therapist, or a charity, or something like that? You could make it more structured and really make a difference here, Zach.’
‘That’s a great idea.’
