Permission to Make Trash

Why are you so terrified of making something that looks like complete garbage? It is just paint on a board, not a permanent stain on your soul.

I had this vision of a Northern Lights series that was supposed to be the one, the project that finally proved I belonged in the regional gallery circuit. But every time I lifted my brush, my brain started screaming that I was about to waste forty dollars worth of professional-grade acrylics on something hideous. I was so caught up in the fear of failing that I forgot the most basic rule of being a human who creates things: your first draft is supposed to be a disaster. We live in 2026, a world where AI can spit out a polished, perfect piece in six seconds, which makes us feel like our slow, clunky, human process is somehow a failure. It is a trap, honestly.

It is time to lean into the chaos and just experiment with the weirdest, ugliest ideas you have. When we only aim for good, we stop taking risks. We stop trying that weird technique where we mix mud from the backyard into the glaze or trying to write a song using only the sounds of the local freight train passing by at three in the morning. In Northwestern Ontario, our creative energy is often tied to the ruggedness of the land, and nature isn't pretty in a sterile way—it is messy, decaying, and constantly rebuilding itself. If you aren't making a bunch of ugly shit, you aren't actually growing; you're just repeating a safe pattern because you're scared of a bruised ego. You have to let the brush slip. You have to let the proportions be wrong. You have to let the colors clash until your eyes hurt.

From a psychological perspective, this is all about cognitive defusion. That voice in your head telling you that your art is trash is just a thought, not a literal truth. When you intentionally set out to make something weird or bad, you take the power back from that inner critic. You realize that the world doesn't actually end when a canvas looks like a melted crayon factory. In fact, that is usually where the magic starts to happen. You find a texture in the mess that you actually love, or a color combination that vibrates in a way you never would have planned if you were being careful. It is like a mindfulness exercise, but with more splatter.

Let yourself get a little crazy this week. Buy the cheapest supplies you can find so you don't feel precious about them, and give yourself permission to create the most embarrassing, unpolished, bizarre thing imaginable. This isn't just about art; it is about building the resilience to handle imperfection in every part of your life. We need more local arts collectives in places like Borups Corners or Sioux Lookout that value the experiment! Phase over the polished finished product. Your dignity isn't tied to your output. It is tied to your willingness to show up, get your hands dirty, and be authentically, messily human in a world that tries to automate our souls. Go out there and fail on purpose. It is the most punk rock thing you can do for your mental health.

Northwestern Ontario Arts, Culture and Recreation

Rooted in Melgund Township, Northwestern Ontario we're exploring arts, culture, and recreation programming that brings our communitiess together. From creative workshops and local exhibitions to youth activities and cultural events, we support rural artists, strengthen community connection, and celebrate the creative spirit of Northwestern Ontario.

Through community-based arts initiatives, recreation programming, and cultural gatherings, Melgund Recreation, Arts and Culture fosters creative expression, collaboration, and long-term sustainability in the northern arts sector. Our work connects residents, empowers youth, and builds pride in local talent across rural Northwestern Ontario.

Learn more about our programs, events, and opportunities at Melgund Recreation, Arts and Culture.