This week, we invite you to go bold. That might mean using colours that surprise you. Making lines that don’t stay neatly in the lines. Letting go of the tiny details and embracing something wilder, freer, more you. Because here’s the thing: creativity isn’t always quiet and careful. Sometimes it splashes. Sometimes it shouts. Sometimes it leaps before it thinks. And that’s beautiful too.

There’s something special that happens when creativity becomes a conversation. A friend’s palette opens up new possibilities. Someone else’s sketch makes you see a flower in a way you hadn’t noticed before. You laugh together over a paint-splattered table, swap ideas, or sit in quiet parallel making — no words needed, just pencils moving.

What if your creativity packed its own suitcase? This week is all about creative escapes. Not the kind that require plane tickets (though they’re welcome too), but the kind that live in hammocks, day trips, café corners, shady park benches. The kind of escape where your sketchbook becomes your travel companion, wherever you are.

This week, we wander out to meet colour where it lives. The idea is simple: what if your palette wasn’t inside your pencil case, but out there — in the woods, the garden, the cracks in the pavement where something small and determined grows? 

There was a time, when you picked up crayons with sticky fingers and just drew... No one told you it was wrong. No one said it had to be perfect. And if they did, you didn’t care. You were too busy making magic.

There’s something about sketching in the open air that feels a bit like breaking the rules. Maybe it’s the grass under your feet instead of a desk. Or the fact that birdsong is your playlist, and there’s no undo button for a breeze that lifts your paper. ..

There’s a strange kind of pressure that creeps in when you open a blank page. It sits quietly at first… a little nudge to make something nice, something worthwhile, something that at least looks like you tried. But what if this week, you tried less?

The light lingers a little longer, the days stretch open, and something in us begins to thaw. There’s no need to rush into it. This is not the season of grand plans or perfect outcomes: it’s the season of soft beginnings. This month, we’re stepping outside the lines.