Making Space for Awe: Why Art, Ambiguity, and Slowing Down Matter More Than Ever

Where in your life are you allowing yourself to be wrong, to be vulnerable, to make mistakes—to stand in awe of possibility rather than certainty?

So much of our education and professional culture trains us out of wonder and into answers. We’re rewarded for speed, clarity, and decisiveness. We learn to seek shortcuts, tidy conclusions, and easy exits. Ambiguity becomes uncomfortable. Complexity feels inefficient. And yet, the most meaningful growth—personal, creative, and even organizational—rarely happens in straight lines.

The beauty is in the layers. In ambiguity. In openness. In unexpected combinations that sing side by side. In new solutions to old problems that only emerge when we stop forcing clarity too soon.

Awe as a Practical Skill

Last week, I attended a talk by Nicole Krauss, author of The History of Love, and her reflections crystallized something I’ve been circling for years in my work as an artist and educator.

She spoke about the loss of awe—not as a sentimental emotion, but as a practical necessity. Without awe, everything becomes something to solve, explain, or take a position on. We rush toward certainty, even when the subject itself resists being made tidy. In a world that feels increasingly polarized, that loss of patience for the unknown is costing us more than we realize.

Krauss referenced older Jewish thought, where paradox and contradiction were not problems to eliminate, but realities to live with. Creation itself, in these stories, begins not with accumulation, but with restraint. God first creates a void—space—so that Adam can appear. Later, Eve emerges not through addition, but through subtraction: Adam loses a part of himself so that relationship can exist. Creation, in this tradition, requires absence. Pulling back. Making room.

That idea has stayed with me. Absence isn’t damage; it’s what allows choice, relationship, and growth. When awe disappears, we rush to close that space—with productivity, opinions, urgency, and noise.

Healing Isn’t Fixing—It’s Tolerating

This perspective reframes how we think about healing, whether in ourselves, our communities, or our workplaces. Repair isn’t about fixing everything. It’s about tolerating what doesn’t resolve neatly.

You can’t repair the world if you can’t sit with uncertainty in yourself.

Memory works this way too. It doesn’t return to finish the story, but to rearrange it—so we can understand it more deeply. That kind of understanding requires awe. It requires humility. It requires admitting that we don’t fully know yet.

This is where art becomes essential—not decorative, not extracurricular, but foundational.

Why Art Matters—in Studios, Schools, and Organizations

The art process lives comfortably in uncertainty. It asks us to slow down, to observe, to experiment, to make mistakes without rushing to judgment. It bypasses polished language and corporate armor and reaches something more honest: curiosity, vulnerability, imagination.

That’s why art is such a powerful tool not only in Art Classes in our Brookline studio, but also in Corporate Art Workshops we hold in MA. In organizations, creativity isn’t about making better paintings—it’s about rebuilding tolerance for ambiguity, restoring trust in process, and reconnecting teams to their shared humanity. When people create together, hierarchies soften, listening deepens, and new ways of thinking quietly emerge.

In our Art Gallery in Brookine, MA, I see this daily as well. Art invites viewers to pause, to look without needing to agree or decide. It gives permission to feel before explaining. To witness rather than conquer.

Whether you’re a child learning to mix colors, an adult returning to creativity after years away, or a leadership team navigating burnout and change, the invitation is the same: slow down, make space, and allow something unexpected to appear.

Ways to Go Inward This Season

If this resonates, here are a few upcoming opportunities at our Brookline studio to practice that spaciousness—individually and together:

• Book Club: Profit First A reflective conversation around value, worth, and sustainability—personally and professionally. This insight was my greatest takeaway from last year and continues to shape how I approach work, boundaries, and care.

• Wine & Art Master Class

  A sensory, contemplative experience pairing Italian wine with Italian art—an exercise in noticing, tasting, and staying present without rushing to conclusions.

• Carnevale Reception

  A celebration of play, tradition, color, and layered meaning—where art, community, and joy intersect.

• Adult Art Classes (starting early March)

  Ongoing Art Classes in Brookline designed for process over product—time to explore, experiment, and remain open to what wants to emerge.

  
  

These experiences aren’t about productivity. They’re about presence. About rebuilding awe. About remembering that not everything meaningful needs to be solved.

In a culture obsessed with certainty, art gives us permission to stay human.