ANALOG HOBBIES ARE BACK

Alex Koenig
1 day ago
5 min read

Your mental health will thank you

By Alex Koenig

A group of adults recently sat hunched around the cafe tables in the General Store Shops & Cafe in Maplewood, their ideal 2026. There were glue sticks, scissors, tiny rolls of decorative tape, stickers and magazine clippings with words one placed a gold star next to “more joy” like it was legally binding. Things got emotional. Not “I’m sad because I glued on a photo of a superyacht I will never own” emotional. More like, “Oh wow, I forgot I’m allowed to want things and express that in a creative way” emotional.

Women show off their projects at a stitch night at Mrs. Meshugga Needlepoint.

One person sighed during the event and said, “This is so … calming.” Nobody made it a whole thing. Someone slid over a jumbo glue stick, and the table nodded in solidarity. That, in a nutshell, is why analog hobbies matter right now. They give your attention somewhere to land, without the pressure to be productive and they bring people together without making it feel like a first date with strangers.

We are living in a time when everything is loud and even “relaxing” comes with a side of performance and optimization because our brains are still running 15 tabs in the background. “Did I respond to that email? Is my dentist appointment this week or did I hallucinate that? Why is there a permission slip in my coat pocket?” Relaxing becomes another task you are quietly failing at.

If you have noticed your peers suddenly making wreaths, painting-by-numbers, scrapbooking, caring for their sourdough starter like it’s another one of their children and generally doing things that do not come with a notifications alert, you are not imagining it.

Lisa Buber is the owner of Mrs. Meshugga Needlepoint inside the General Store Shops & Cafe.

Lisa Buber, owner of Mrs. Meshugga Needlepoint inside the General Store Shops & Cafe, has watched it happen stitch by stitch. People come in for the project and stay for the community. She’s seen stitch nights turn into actual friendships, the kind for which people start showing up together on purpose. The “beginner energy” is real, too. Buber estimates about 60 to 70 percent of customers are first-timers, and plenty of them return fast with that specific look of “Okay, I finished it. What’s next.”

Doing something analog feels like such a relief. For once, the only thing asking for your attention is the canvas, the paintbrush or the twine. No updates. No alerts. No existential dread sprinkled on top. Analog hobbies are quiet, slow and crucially, something you can actually finish.

Research backs up what people already feel. Crafts-based activities have been linked to short-term improvements in mood, stress, anxiety and overall well-being. In other words, making a collage instead of doomscrolling is not just a vibe. It’s a nervous system reset.

It’s accessible too. You do not need a personality overhaul. You need somewhere to sit, a few supplies and permission to be a beginner.

Whether you’re interested in cooking, sewing, throwing clay or learning how to build something that doesn’t immediately fall apart, SOMA has a surprising number of places where you can show up as a beginner and work with your hands. Here are just a handful in our area:

Kitchen Table Maplewood does it through hands-on cooking classes.
Culinary Creatives brings that same learn-by-doing energy into community centers, libraries and after-school groups.
Sew Léana is there for anyone ready to finally learn how to sew without rage-quitting.
Indigo Road Studio is a calm and intimate ceramics studio where you can learn in group or private settings.
Hello Huckleberry even has a Ladies Night Out for adults who want a creative night that isn’t just sitting in a loud bar.
SOMA BuildHers puts teen girls in leadership roles while they learn construction skills.
SOMA ToolShare makes it easier to actually do the thing by letting you borrow tools and learn as you go.

At Oh! Canary, owner Lacey Buccellato watches people come in a little nervous and leave looking lighter. “The No. 1 thing people say is, ‘I don’t have a creative bone in my body,’ ” she says. “It’s just not true. We all have the capacity to be creative.” She sees adults show up to accompany their kids and then quietly realize they want their own project, too.

Oh! Canary hosts a Still Life Night that is part art class, part dinner party. Everyone eats and then sits down to draw.

She’s also noticed the room changing in the last couple of years. More men are showing up, which has nudged the studio toward more gender-neutral offerings. The studio’s Still Life Night is part art class, part dinner party. Her husband makes a ton of food, everyone eats and then you sit down and draw. It’s a date night where you leave with a sketch instead of a huge bar tab and pending hangover.

Buccellato cares a lot about the room feeling safe, especially for kids who are still in that phase where they’ll try anything before the world teaches them not to. She remembers one moment when a kid started painting his face and the room did that quiet collective tense thing that usually comes right before someone corrects him. “I gave him a mirror so he could do it,” she says. Small gesture, big message: curiosity over correction.

That same spirit shows up outside the studio, too. In a digital world that can sometimes feel designed to keep us apart, Achieve Foundation’s Maker Madness (Saturday, April 25 at Columbia High School) is a free, focused community-STEAM event where kids and families can come together and get that analog satisfaction of making something with their hands. The event is in its 11th year. The 2026 theme is “Making Community.”

Kids collaborate on an art installation during Oh! Canary's Open Studio for ages 2 and up.

Local businesses and organizations run interactive stations, from robots and bubbles to woodworking and the popular tech-teardown table, according to Brian Glaser, a member of the board of trustees for the Achieve Foundation of South Orange and Maplewood.

That’s why it’s so valuable when a town makes room for it.

Buber’s seen the hobby evolve firsthand. She learned needlepoint from her mom and grandmothers and remembers “always being the youngest person in the room” in a traditional shop, not getting to choose her canvas or colors. Now, she loves watching it come back with a very modern energy. “No matter what your niche, hobby or interest is, there is a needlepoint for it,” Buber says. “Old school, modern, completely unhinged.”

The modern versions are also more accessible. Many local businesses offer kits and beginner workshops.

Buber loves seeing needlepoint come back with a very modern energy. “No matter what your niche, hobby, interest is, there is a needlepoint for it,” she says.

What makes the Maplewood and South Orange wave especially charming is that it is not just people quietly crafting at home. It is people using creativity as an excuse to reenter community life.

Back at the vision board table, the group eventually glued down their last clippings and leaned back like they had completed a marathon. Their boards were not perfect. Maybe they were slightly crooked. They were, in the most human way, clearly made by people with whole lives happening.

And that was the point. For an hour or two, they were not consuming. They were not reacting. They were making. In 2026, that counts as self-care.