Every month I run free art therapy. Six people sit in folding chairs and make things they're scared to make. I put all of it in an envelope and mail it to strangers. That's you. You're the stranger. $10/month.
“I subscribed as a joke. I have now gifted 4 subscriptions. I am not laughing anymore. I am crying. At work.”
“My therapist asked where I'm getting all these feelings from. I showed her the envelope. She subscribed.”
“I put Derek's sticker on my boss's laptop. I've been promoted twice.”
“Marcus's list of '11 Things I'd Rather Do Than Make Small Talk' got me through Thanksgiving.”
“My mailman asked me what I'm getting. I told him. He subscribed. His route takes 20 minutes longer now because he reads everything.”
“I thought $10 was expensive until I realized I spend $7 on a coffee I don't even like.”
“Is this a real therapy group?”
Yes. No. It's complicated. Subscribe and find out.
“What if I don't like art?”
You haven't seen our art. Also, that's exactly the kind of thing someone in our therapy group would say.
“Can I cancel anytime?”
Yes, but you won't. Nobody has. That's either a testament to the art or a cry for help.
“Do you ship internationally?”
$11/month. The extra dollar is for the stamp, not my profit margin. I promise.
“What's in the envelope?”
A postcard, a sticker, a poem-list, a dance video QR code, a playlist, an absurdist flyer, and a letter. Also feelings. Lots of feelings.
“100% Art, 0% Murder?”
Correct.