Happy Doodles: Finding Hope in a Single Mark
My name is Jodie Smith, and I’m the founder of Happy Doodles, a creative wellbeing programme based in East Yorkshire that uses simple, low-pressure doodling to help people recognise, name, and express their emotions. No art experience needed. No right or wrong. Just you, crayons/pencils, and a page.
Happy Doodles was built on a belief I hold deeply: creativity is a human need, not a talent. The programme grew from my own lived experiences of mental illness, and I found it helped me bond with my daughter, doodling side by side on the kitchen table as soon as she could hold a crayon is where the seed of Happy Doodles began. I am also an author-illustrator and designer. I saw the gap from witnessing how many people, children especially, struggle to find words for what they’re feeling. Doodling offers a different route in. It’s non-verbal first, which means it meets people where they are, whether that’s a child who can’t explain their anxiety, an adult on a waiting list, or someone whose needs don’t quite fit the clinical threshold but who is very much struggling.
This year’s highlight:
This year has been about building foundations and testing the work in real communities across Hull. I’ve been developing a six-week programme for schools, which takes children through themes of emotions, self-regulation, identity, and connection, all through mark-making. Week by week, we explore things like energy and calm, belonging and difference, connection without pressure. The feedback from facilitators has been genuinely moving: children who rarely engage are picking up pens. Children who don’t have the confidence to speak up are communicating. That feels like something worth paying attention to.
I’ve also been developing the underpinning language of Happy Doodles more carefully, making sure it sits clearly in the prevention space, not therapy, but not dismissive of real emotional need either. That’s a fine line to walk, and getting it right matters.
What I’ve learned:
The biggest lesson this year: trust the simplicity. When I’ve tried to add complexity or explain too much, the magic disappears. When I step back and let the doodling do the work, something shifts in the room. The less I say, the more people feel.
Critical Hope:
The festival provocation this year, Critical Hope, speaks directly to what Happy Doodles is about. I think hope, real hope, isn’t passive. It’s not telling someone it’ll all be okay. It’s handing them a pen and saying: your marks matter. You can say something without words. You’re not broken. In a city like Hull, where mental health need is significantly above the national average, that small act of creative agency feels quietly radical.
What’s next:
I’m in the process of setting up Happy Doodles as a Community Interest Company, and I’d love to connect with others working at the intersection of creativity and wellbeing. If you’re curious about the work, or want to bring Happy Doodles to your community, I’d love to hear from you!
