Experiment #7

Sure. You wouldn't have read this far if that were true.

You're still reading… hoping we'll say it… that we'll be the ones to validate, to grant the title, to confirm what you can't say to yourself: “Do I have the right to exist as an artist?”

That's yours to do, superstar.

Six experiments in the books, nearly half of every group came from another life. Mentors included. The ones who almost didn't apply are the ones who came back.

What makes it hard to apply is what makes it work.

Read this first → Who are you when nobody is watching?

Then cut the crap and send in the damn application, you artist.

Yeah.

Worst time to start over. Worst time to bet on yourself. Worst time to disappear for a week.

You've been waiting for “the right moment” since before the news got bad. The news is the perfect excuse you'd been waiting for. Very reasonable. Very far from where artists live.

Apply or keep watching the news, praying for "your right moment". Both take up the same week.

The math is about whether you're worth €3,700 of your own money.

Money has been in charge of your hesitation for years. You let it talk for you because it sounds reasonable. Reasonable people put themselves last. They get called many things. Artist is rarely one of them.

If the price stops you, money is the most reasonable thing you've found to put between you and applying.

If you paused without closing the tab, the math is already done. 30% secures your spot. We’ll work out the rest with payment plans.

Ha-ha! No really, ha-ha!

We know this for a fact: ready never arrives.

The preparation is the work. You just keep calling it preparation.

→ Read this before applying: “Not Ready Yet”

→ Or take the diagnostic: “Chronic Preparation Syndrome”

Or wait another year. And another one. And another one. Someday, you'll be ready, promise (nope).

Overthinking. Good behavior. Reasonable choices… The proven path of every artist you admire!

Instead: challenges with no clear solution. Mentors who ask the questions you've been avoiding. Labs where you act before you think.

A week designed to expose the patterns you've been protecting for years.

No phones on the island. Period.

Not for work. Not for emergencies. Not for checking in.

There's an emergency phone in our office if something critical happens. In six editions, zero emergencies were missed. Beyond that, you're offline for seven days.

What you do at your hotel after hours is your business. But on the island, the phone stays off.

If that's a dealbreaker, this isn't your program.

NOPE

If you’re here for technique or to mimic your favorite artists.

NAH

If you’re chasing fan moments, hoping to watch the mentors paint.

YUP

If the work keeps coming out the same. If the next book about it won't fix it. If you can't see your own blind spots from where you're standing.

Come for the right reasons.

If you don't come, what changes?

You need basic drawing and painting skills. That's the floor. After that, technical level doesn't matter.

It's for you if more of the same hasn't been working.

Beginners get in. Professionals get in. The filter is what needs to come apart.

You'll work longer and harder than you think you can.

You'll make work you can't control the outcome of.

You'll expose process before it's ready.

This isn't about learning new techniques.

It's about dismantling the ones you hide behind.

Your competence will be challenged.

Your standards will be suspended.

Your strategies will fail.

If you need to know you'll succeed before you start, don't come.

If you need to maintain your usual quality, don't come.

If you need control over the outcome, don't come.

…Or let Colossal tell you what happens → "We Spent a Week Quarantined on an Uninhabited Island with 80 Artists"

Labs mix artistic training, psychology, and strategy. The format makes you act before you think.

Inspired by Stanislavski's Method: get into the state first, study the script after.

You get a challenge daily with no clear solution, no instructions. You react creatively without theory to lean on. After, the group reflects together on what you actually did and how you made those decisions. Not what you should have done.

The labs are intense. They're also the core of the program.

Because not everyone fits the program. The filter works both ways.

You apply. We schedule a 20-minute conversation to see if the program matches where you are right now. To see if you're ready to work without instructions, to act before you think, to let your blind spots get exposed.

The filter is what's behind the brush.

If both sides say yes, you pay 30% to reserve your spot. The rest we work out together.

We curate for variety. Different backgrounds, different levels, different approaches. Friction creates pressure. Pressure reveals patterns.

Don't choose based on whose work you like. Choose based on who sees differently than you do.

Remember: TRIANGULATION.

Three mentors, three completely different perspectives. What one misses, another catches. If you pick three mentors who all think the same way, you waste the structure.

Pick mentors who work in ways that confuse you, who use logic you don't understand, whose priorities seem backwards to yours. That's where the friction is. That's where blind spots get exposed.

Not sure who to pick? Email us. We know who sees what.

63 visual artists from over 20 countries.

65% women / 35% men.

The mix:

30% painting alongside another life — a job, a family, a career that came first

50% full-time artists

20% still in formal training.

Different disciplines:

painters illustrators concept artists tattoo artists 3D artists visual storytellers animators comic artists abstract artists multimedia artists …

Whichever of these you are or aren't, someone in the room came from exactly where you're standing.

People who haven't been call it a cult, a scam, Epstein's island.

People who have been call it back and ask when the next one is.

Their contact info is under their testimonials. Ask them yourself.

A sort of mystical bootcamp for artists. (…) Both intensely communal and unabashedly introspective.

Grace Ebert, May 2026. This is Colossal. Read the full piece here.