Dialogue is at the center of accompanying processes, so I’m always taking free notes I can later reread to order my thoughts based on three questions:
a) What’s being expected? b) What’s needed? c) How could I help?
This helps me recognize the extent of what I can do as a facilitator and what the participant must do on their own to reach what they are searching for. It’s also important that I am always looking to hold and shape expectations toward becoming searches.
Foraging archive:
I always think that the primary material for any sort of personal or collective creative process begins—or is sparked by—searching within. Therefore, a personal archive, whether old or recent, is very important for understanding the context of our questions and the purpose of what we’d like to create. With it, we have a starting point from which we can decenter and dive into the process. I think of these as emotional, yet tangible, anchors that emerge as allies in a process that will (safely) tap into the unexpected or the uncomfortable, but necessary.
Dialoguing with the uncomfortable:
I see this as essential, though not from a morbid perspective, but rather as an opportunity to search and contemplate beyond what we take for granted or how we’ve maintained certain perspectives—individually or collectively—on themes we want to work with in our creative processes. Active listening is important to register what a participant brings when sharing or discussing certain topics: what words they use, what gestures, body positions, voice tones or volumes. This can even help reveal practices in their daily life that are important yet not fully recognized, which may help them understand something challenging to share that holds a crucial piece of personal identity—a narrative that could expand to illuminate a sociocultural issue.
Periodicity as caring:
I think it’s important in my work to maintain periodicity—that is, consistency in scheduling meetings (for example, once a week, at roughly the same time or day). This helps build an ecosystem of care, offering physical and emotional reassurance that we will meet again during a process that might bring frustration or uncertainty. These feelings are important to sit with, not necessarily resolve, though I do provide some guidelines so participants can navigate their processes with full autonomy, exploration, curiosity, and doubt—trying and finding their own resources and strategies. In my experience, this has been possible thanks to the “promise” of seeing each other again in a week.
Before establishing this rhythm, we first have an initial meeting to check our chemistry, introduce ourselves, see how we might work together, and determine the amount of time needed or manageable to reach a final piece or closure of the process. This applies to one-on-one tutorials, but in a workshop setting it shifts to an orientation talk or session where information is shared, which can also reassure individuals interested in participating. The workshop is then structured into sessions, but I try to leave an asynchronous week with no classes, during which participants share a final draft before submitting or presenting their completed work.
Creating an ecosystem of work:
Making the space comfortable. This ranges from curating playlists to accompany certain guided experiences or activities, to gathering references and texts that can serve as catalysts for questioning, especially at the beginning and midpoint of the process. It also means turning the workshop studio or classroom into something more home-like: inviting students or participants to move desks aside if they’d like to sit on the floor (space permitting), and keeping various creative tools within reach—scissors, pens, pencils, colors, glue, post-its, masking tape, clips, blank paper, etc.—along with something to eat or drink so people can help themselves when needed (cookies or other snacks on a table, glasses, a jar of water, juice, coffee, and so on).
The most essential part of this is the check-in moment: we don’t start directly with the session’s agenda, but take a few initial minutes to see how everyone—including the facilitator—is arriving. This allows the workshop to tune in subtly yet meaningfully to the participants’ states and to adapt the plan if needed. It also helps build a safer, more trusting climate, which makes it easier to sustain frustration or other complex dynamics within the group—and to turn the group itself into a resource, rather than positioning the facilitator as the sole problem-solver or “savior.”
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