Opening the Floodgates: Caitlin Hanna on grief, mental health, and accessible art

Big feelings tend to come out in big ways, whether we like it or not. Caitlin Hanna’s lifelong journey as an artist has always come from a deep place, an instinct through dark times to create. It’s taken them from sketching Tumblr images and My Little Ponies in hospital for “something to do”, to the visceral honesty of their new exhibition, Grief Talks.

Ahead of the exhibition’s residence at Articulate's Glasgow city-centre studio and gallery - previewing on 9th October and open from 13th October to 20th November - Caitlin has shared some of their personal journey and thoughts.

Art as outlet and voice

Caitlin’s relationship with art started at a young age, during long periods of struggling with their mental health. When they were hospitalised as a teenager, it was a creative distraction to fill the hours of nothingness between scheduled wellness sessions. After being discharged and going into a care home, a teacher at the attached school saw something more in Caitlin’s hobby - a potential future in art. 

“I got cornered by a teacher, and she was like, we're gonna apply for college to do that. And I was like, I'll do that if I can go for a fag right now. And she was like, yeah, okay, Caitlin.”

A life with care experience can often be full of these kind of “sliding doors” moments - like a single person stepping in and opening a path that otherwise might not exist. In the last blog post, Rizwan had a similar experience with his high school art teacher. And I can think of people too who altered the trajectory of my life by being proactive corporate parents. But I digress …

Caitlin got permission to go out for a fag, and then went on to complete a HNC and HND in Art and Design at college, and later, a degree in Fine Art at University of Cumbria. In college, with the freedom to choose assignment briefs that interested them, their art was moving into something that spoke directly from their own experience. 

From Grief Talks © Caitlin Hanna 2025

From Grief Talks © Caitlin Hanna 2025

“I went back to self-expression, of what's going on in my life. And I think it started then that I was like, this is my focus, I want to communicate all of this.”

So art still served as an outlet, but also a language for sharing. Caitlin has never been tied down by medium, and recurring motifs have emerged on their own. Teardops return again and again, and so does text: sometimes legible, sometimes half painted-over, but with the energy of the words still there. Their work is like a diary (“allowing me to spew my emotions out in a way that doesn’t eat me alive”), but one left open for others to understand, and perhaps relate to. 

Teardrops and words. From Grief Talks © Caitlin Hanna 2025

The ongoing journey of grief

I asked Caitlin what people should feel when viewing the exhibition, and they weren’t sure. Maybe because communicating a specific “message” isn’t the point. It’s about the sharing itself - honesty with our emotions, which can be scary and taboo. Grief in particular is something many people avoid speaking about - it can be messy, awkward, non-linear and impossible to put into words. 

Grief Talks serves as both communication and catharsis

Caitlin describes their work as “opening the door” to feelings, and emphasises that it’s a journey with no neat conclusion to it. What their art is really for is for others to realise that this is normal, and it sucks, but you’re not stuck in it, and you’re not alone. As they put it: “With the mental health, I'm not gonna say it gets better, because you just want to deck something when somebody says that. You're like, not helpful. But find what you need to help you get through it, and it could be like colouring books or music or art, but find something - and also share everything. Yeah, because you're not alone in it.”

For Caitlin, the sense of connection from starting conversations about grief and mental health should be normalised. “We are a community, so we should lean on each other and share our experiences with each other, because that's how you learn, and that's how you can feel safe and connected.”

Just as grief becomes more bearable when shared, Caitlin believes that creativity, too, should be something open and accessible, not reserved for the few.

And the ongoing fight for accessibility

Caitlin has also been active in advocating for change in an art world that can be very elitist and inaccessible. From assisting with research into what barriers students with autism and learning disabilities face on creative courses, to working directly with young people to support them into creative industries, Caitlin knows there is still a lot of work to be done in this area.

Their own experience in university made this clear, with tutors refusing to make language accessible when asked, dismissively retorting that “If you want to be in this world, then you just need to learn it” - to which Caitlin says: “Hear me out. We just make things easier for everybody.” 

Work in progress

Caitlin also works with Creative Catalyst Scotland, a social enterprise that supports young people not in education or employment to nurture their creativity and take the next step on their journey. For some that means university or college; for others, it’s a path as a self-employed creative. And in this work, Caitlin feels intense frustration from seeing such incredible talent in these young people - but a lack of systemic support and pathways for it to thrive. 

Caitlin believes that really committing to accessibility and flexibility would allow far more people to become part of the creative community, a diversity of voices that would transform it into something more vibrant and representative of the world we actually live in. Right now, the hoops to jump through, and financial resources required, shut too many people out.

Slug solidarity

Along the road of big, human problems, Caitlin finds another connection in small, simple slugs. The answer to my “now-for-a-silly-one” spirit animal question shows kindness in a world that can be cruel  - what draws Caitlin to them is that they are hated for no reason, written off as off-putting and squashable. “Because folk don’t like them, I’m like, well, someone needs to”. Caitlin even has a customised mobility stick with slugs all over it!

Slug stick!

“They’re basically like queer little guys, just like, I’m hungry, I don’t know. I do think of myself as just like, a gross little dude a lot of the time, so I think that fits.”

The vulnerable yet resilient, more-than-meets-the-eye slug energy will carry Caitlin forward into whatever is next: broadening their horizons, applying for exhibitions, and putting their work out into the world, but staying grounded in what feels right instead of what is “sellable”. This authenticity is what can really open doors and conversations - the kind we may shy away from, but need the most.

From People of Pullars exhibition © Caitlin Hanna, 2022

See Grief Talks at Articulate Cultural Trust, 125 St Vincent Street, Glasgow G2 5JF. Open Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays from 13th October - 20th November, ​​11am - 3pm.

Meet the artist Saturday 18th October, 1 - 2pm.

Follow Caitlin everywhere: https://linktr.ee/caitlinhanna_art.