Friendly monsters: A Gable End story

There’s something powerful and healing about looking back at the things we loved as children and realising why. Those characters that comforted us and stories we clung to, they weren't random - sometimes they told a story that we didn’t have the words for yet.

Last year, a week of workshops with Articulate gave me the chance to revisit one of those stories, and what started as a creative exercise became a personal journey to understanding my inner child and reimagining monsters as protectors.

Symbolic street art

Street art represents a special kind of visibility. It’s not paying to see an exclusive exhibition, or earned from being in particular circles. Throughout history it’s been an act of resistance, a marker of current times, an urge to express that which isn’t being heard. In communities it forms a place’s identity, becomes a conversation starter, or a battle for space.

But in this world not everyone feels equally entitled to take up space. Some of us grow up learning that existing too visibly is dangerous: maybe being from a marginalised group, or growing up in an environment where expressing yourself had consequences, where the more you made yourself small the better. Maybe you tried to be seen and loud, only to be punished, told you were too much, or perhaps worse – completely ignored.

Mural by Studio Something: Tolbooth Wynd, Leith, Edinburgh

That’s why projects like Gable End matter, they celebrate expression rather than just tolerating it. And doing so through graffiti flips stigma on its head, rejecting narratives about vicious young vandals and rogue lower art forms. Putting spray cans in the hands of care experienced young people, an item which would have been discouraged or banned in their care settings (even without evidence of what they were being used for) is a rewriting of the rules.

Gable End mural trail Glasgow edition: Cathedral Street, Glasgow

Monsters Inc. through a care experienced lens

In April 2024 I took part in the Edinburgh version of the Gable End project, and throughout the week of art activities, we were invited to create a character that we could bring to life on the final day with spray paint.

I'm a big film lover, so I started my brainstorming there, while trying to think if there was a character that represented something deeper for me. And the one that came to mind was a character familiar to almost everyone, but who always resonated with me in a special way. And that was Sully from Monsters Inc. I love that film, but I never really took the time to process why.

I mean, I was sort of the picture of Boo

Boo has a foggy backstory. We never see her parents, and the film doesn't tell us a story about them being “good” or “bad”. Boo's story starts when she escapes that life entirely and latches on to the monster in her bedroom. The lack of information we are given means that anything could be true about her circumstances - including being in foster care, living in a children’s home, or a difficult pre-care situation.

Her room is safe, colourful, and full of toys, so her material needs are clearly met. But her emotional needs may not be. When she gets back after her adventure, she’s desperate to show Sully her toys and play with him, assuming he's there to stay (and breaking audience hearts). Doesn’t she have other children or adults to play with? Her joy isn't about returning home but about someone being there to share her space.

"Kids these days, they just don't get scared like they used to" - Henry J. Waternoose III

The interpretation can be taken even further. The idea that “normal” children are scared of the monsters, and Boo is different, could reflect how trauma and complex attachment rewires emotional instincts. When real life is scary enough, monsters might seem silly and certain fears might be comforting.

Boo reaches for Sully, and thankfully, he turns out to be kind. What if he hadn’t been? We, as a society, and as corporate parents, need to show up as Sully and Mike do, so that when children wander into the world seeking safety and connection, it’s into open, gentle arms.

Monsters in the closet

I didn’t consider this level of detail during the workshops. Sully just felt right. I ended up putting my own twist on him – by making him rainbow coloured. Not only was that incredibly fun to spray paint, getting to use every colour in the box, but it represents a part of myself that was completely invisible during my childhood and time in care: my queer identity.

It’s something that I didn’t have the space, security, or self-love to figure out until into my twenties. I had no language for it, no role models. Even now, I haven’t been open about it with my mum, or workers from my old unit, when they’ve invited me round for Christmas dinner and pestered me about my love life. It’s a loaded silence. Future generations of children, care-experienced and not, deserve better.

The character I created, then, represented a tangle of unseen battles, and the reassurances I wished had entered the dark void of my childhood bedroom. I’m here to stay and I will protect you. You’re not a monster. You deserve love and safety, exactly as you are.

The vision: the art

Building belonging

The first few years after leaving care were about escape and forgetting, leaving it behind. I think this is quite common. But the further away I got from it, the more I realised the importance of having people who get it – or part of it – around. Shared experience creates an unspoken bond, even when each person's story is different. The past few years I have been trying to build that community for myself.

Getting involved with Articulate was the result of opening myself to every avenue where I could find “my people”. I joined my university’s care experienced community drop in. This led to becoming a Student Ambassador for the Hub for Success. Which led in turn to an email appearing in my inbox about Gable End.

And when I turned up, my people were there. We were able to talk about care and relate to each other, and I felt safe creating something that was a true representation of me. I even ended up making a friend, who was transitioning out of the very same place I used to stay. She also happened to be gay like me. I instantly felt like I had a new younger sister, and we’ve kept in touch since then.

These affirming, natural connections are what every care experienced person deserves. And the freedom to express themselves with colour, pride and power. It doesn’t take much. Just a space for it to happen.

Some of the other colourful characters!