A reflection on expressive arts

by Daniella DiSilvio

First, there was a hunger. Before I came to world of ExA therapy, there existed a desire for fulfillment, a need to feed my soul and my curiosity, to fill the empty spaces, and to become whole. Of course, over the duration of my experience in the ExA it was revealed to me that the filling up, the point of saturation, is only one part of the journey. The most poignant piece of knowledge I will be taking with me from my journey is that it is only through the process of de-centering, of being partial, and allowing myself to fall apart that one may experience fullness. It is the empty glass that fills. This is a theme revisited time and time again over our workshops and this notion of fluid identity and of viewing our lives as “a work in progress” could only be understood though the various art modalities we explored. In particular, our weekend with Marcus and the images we created over the continual process of construction, de-construction, and re-construction will stay with me indefinitely. It has occurred to me in all aspects of my life that I can only learn so much from perpetually standing in the same place, sometimes I need to step out of my comfort zone and allow myself to be de-centered…and ultimately trust the process.

In addition, my love for philosophy, particularly existential thought, has been deepened through the expressive arts. I’d describe myself as a “big picture” thinker and less interested in the fine details. The process of tracing the roots of ExA therapy into a philosophical framework has contributed to my “filling up,” and it has allowed me to nourish my soul with what I have found to be the essential oil of truth. Truth is a very funny word and its existence has been debated since man gained consciousness, but what makes us human and what contributes to our eternal state of “despair” is that we can’t help but continue to search to for it. For me, understanding that despair as essential to human existence relates to my acceptance of the need to fall apart. You are going to experience despair, feel pain, things are going to fall apart and life isn’t going to be perfect, so now what do you do? You have to learn acceptance, and forgiveness and letting go. You have to learn how to get back up, how to rebuild and how to heal. This is the transitional space and this is where, for me, the expressive arts dwell. Art is the “transitional object” that Winnicott speaks of, the bridge between the great divide that is human nature. All of life, and therefore all of art, is about relating. We need to “relate” because as Kierkegaard and the existential theorists explain, it is the human condition to be in despair over the physical divide between the soul and body, the individual and the world. “The suffering of the soul comes from the spilt between the self and the world.” Winnicott references the “anima mundi” or the soul in and of the world that we are all striving to obtain and the expressive arts bring us closer to that state of enlightenment.

The expressive arts and this whole new perspective on art making was immediately accepted into my life because I saw it; felt it and I knew it. All knowing, all understanding is through experience. Annie Dillard, in her book The Writing Life, talks about how even the greatest novels are nothing but paper and ink until we read it and bring our selves to the work, until we experience it. The same is to be said for our own personal narratives; we do not have a story until we experience it and we cannot know another person’s story unless they share it. Our stories then inter-twine, they change, evolve over time and impact us in ways that may never be revealed to us. This is evident in all our group circles and speaks again to this ability to “relate” and thus build relationships. We relate the individual to the universe, the pen to the paper, the words to the experience, the spirit to the body, my story to your story and all eternity to the present. All of life, and therefore all of art, is about relating. We need to “relate” because as Kierkegaard and the existential theorists explain, it is the human condition to be in despair over the physical divide between the soul and body, the individual and the world.

This process is unique in that it allows us to call forth that which cannot be named, to point out the amorphous figures that lurk in the depths of our souls and capture the light reflected off the souls of others in order to do what we must with it. Honor it, name it, accept it, save it or cast it away. The experience is always unique to the individual, we can never fully and completely grasp or understand the experience of another but we can share the universal. What we share here and explore in our groups is the universal, what is essentially human, and that speaks to the power of community art making. And the intermodal approach addresses the individual as a sensory being, allowing us to experience the world in ways our minds and bodies are craving. We cannot learn everything is there is know about life and the human condition in a classroom; true personal growth has to be felt, moved, sung, lived and experienced.

I know I will take the expressive arts into my personal life and hope to find a place for it in my professional life. As stated in Poesies, “you cannot give what you do not own” and I feel that I’m in a better position in my life to give myself, fully, in all the endeavors I undertake. We bring ourselves to all of life’s experiences, and that means all our baggage and preconceptions, and the power of the ExA lies in the fact that it helps us clear the lens through which we see and experience the world.

These experiences consistently feed the soul

by Ana Moreno

“These experiences consistently fed the soul … “

Understanding the theoretical paradigm that supports expressive arts work, is in great part understanding the theoretical paradigm of myself and the elements both seen and unseen. An understanding that has only been scratched. The exercises and materials in our workshops (clay, poetry, dance, movement, music, painting and collage, etc.), all transported my inner being, my core, to places both expected and unexpected. Because I engaged in the mediums within a group setting, they were especially unique, compared to when I “played” or made art alone at home.

While engaging in these mediums with others, I broke down a model of myself, only to be mended – moving below the surface to a different place, at times of strength. Witnessing each other created a space for moving through an enlightened experience. I believe each time I was brought into a new relationship singularly and collectively with others it brought me to an enlightened space. On more than one occasion, I personally found myself below the surface of my thinking, emotions, and spiritual essence. Sometimes each medium provided a framework, and yet often we “played” and went beyond the frame, into the unknown, portraying stories (individually and collectively) within and without this unknown place.

In various mediums we started off playfully, dance for example allowed my perfectionism to loosen. I could no longer hold onto the idea that I had to dance perfectly and beautifully. Eventually, I was, often unknowingly, exposing the truth of myself, both strengths and weaknesses, allowing them to break through. A surrender took place, a lifting. Many times I was surprised, caught off guard by the experience of delving into something elusive yet beyond myself, deeper, other worldly at times. I can see how this work is practice for life. Or perhaps my humanness is a practice for the work. There are no limits when engaging with the arts, no limits to its discoveries, offerings of ever growing clarity, even when it seems like all it offers is fog.

These experiences consistently fed the soul, and doesn’t the world need more of that…

The soul needs to be fed
In a way the world
Understands less and less
With each passing generation

Feedback from studio time

by Cindy

Just got back from Albany. As always, such a fertile ground for me to expreience and reflect upon my own life and to build a connection to others. At one point I stood on a stage with the direction to ” BE nothing.” Imagine how crazy it was for Mz. Literal Cindy to stand there, wondering if I was “being nothing correctly?” LOL What comes back again and again is that the creative process itself can be such a rich transformative environment. Concepts, beliefs, or behaviors come to the surface, take form. The act of creative release through an expressive arts modality provides opportunity for personal and group insight and developing greater sensitivity within the realm of physical, emotional and spiritual awareness. Our group in Albany have each noticed gentle shifting patterns within ourselves, as we dive within, release and reflect, again and again. We set an intention to support, honor and welcome that which rises to the surface, exploring the layers through writing, movement, voice, images and performance. Working with expressive arts, within a group, can be a very powerful experience. I would like to share a poem about community, called Dreaming the Dark by Starhawk, which describes this so well.

Community
Somewhere, there are people
to whom we can speak with passion
without having the words catch in our throats
Somewhere a circle of hands will open to receive us,
eyes will light up as we enter, voices will celebrate with us
whenever we come into our own power.
Community means strength that joins our strength
to do the work that needs to be done.
Arms to hold us when we falter.
A circle of healing. A circle of friends.
Someplace where
we can be free.

Namaste,
Cindy

Managing discomfort in the studio

As an NYEA student in March 2008, artist and writer Carolee Sherwood contributed this insightful piece on taking risks with clients in the studio space. Carolee also maintains a blog to record her thoughts about and experiences with expressive arts. Click here and take a look.

Managing discomfort in the studio: Risk-taking clients, safety-conscious practitioners
by Carolee Sherwood

Introduction

In Art Heals: How Creativity Cures the Soul (2004), Shaun McNiff narrates a scenario that repeats itself again and again in his studio; embedded in the account are many lessons, helpful to both the client and the practitioner in managing discomfort in the studio. He writes,

In my studios people often are initially reluctant to engage their discontents. They say, “I’m blocked”; “I’m confused”; or “I don’t want to get involved in these feelings of being inadequate and afraid.”

I always respond, “The only way I know how to deal with this is to stick with the feelings you are having. This is where you are, and if you connect with the confusion, the fear, the stuckness, or even the disgust, it will take you where you need to go in the studio. Tap into the energy of the problem.”

More often than not, people will look at me with expressions of doubt or annoyance and I can do nothing but stand back and let them decide what to do. It’s never easy and I don’t enjoy this part of the work. As a leader, I have empathy for their uneasiness, but I also experience the renewal and transformation that they feel when the process begins to work for them.

Repeatedly, I observe that fear and resistance signal the presence of rich veins of creative discovery. Usually tied to painful past experiences, these emotions carry so much personal history for all of us. Those who take on leadership roles need to make it possible for people go into areas of vulnerability, where precious resources of expression and learning can be accessed. People need to be affirmed and protected when they risk entering these realms” (p. 32-33).

When I work on my own, as an artist and a poet, I understand that the creative process involves risk. Although I learn and grow from the time and effort I invest painting and writing, the moments of risk-taking – expression of something previously hidden, a confession about something deeply painful, an attempt at something scary, a leap into something exciting and new – lead to precious discoveries.

Likewise, the practice of expressive arts relies on the bounty inside the phenomenon: when a person engages in an act of creativity involving a certain amount of risk, there exists an opportunity for self-discovery. Maximizing the benefit of the encounter requires the client to accept a certain amount of discomfort (anxiety, self-consciousness, etc.) and attempt courage in the face of the creative challenge, and it requires the practitioner to be properly trained and prepared as she helps the client safely navigate the terrain of the risk. When the practitioner establishes trust and exhibits competency, the client does not have to “play it safe,” a state of mind ruled by inhibition and fear. Instead, she can engage freely with the creative risk and emerge from the session with new understanding.

As an expressive arts student, I arrive at each training weekend playing two roles: client and would-be practitioner. In this paper, written from the first person, I also assume both roles, using my personal observations and a modest amount of research to describe conditions that will most likely be present in the successful, and slightly uncomfortable expressive arts session.

Part I, Me as the client

“Fortune sides with he who dares.”
—Virgil

“That is, at bottom, the only courage demanded of us:
to have courage for the most strange, the most singular
and the most inexplicable that we may encounter.”
—Rainer Maria Rilke

In arriving at the expressive arts experience, I must accept discomfort and attempt courage. We all come to creative endeavors with similar doubts: What if I’m not good enough? What if I look stupid? What if I can’t do it? (There are hundreds of variations on these questions.) Certainly, my own apprehension about participating in expressive arts contains these typical concerns.

In addition, my reservations include fears that, while they are also very common, feel extremely personal:

Creativity (writing and painting) has been for me a very solitary endeavor, and I have enjoyed that quality about it. The expressive arts journey I have started invites a witness into my “studio,” not only when working with familiar modalities but also when trying new ones. It is foreign and it is difficult.

As a child and as an adult, I have suffered severe consequences when I let go emotional control. It hasn’t always been safe or acceptable for me to be in my emotions or to express them fully. Our families and friends, this whole world, truthfully, welcomes our plainest faces, calmest demeanors and quietest voices. The expressive arts experience delights in being open to a broader range of behavior. It is foreign and it is difficult.

I have spent my days planning and polishing my life. The expressive arts experience asks me to be spontaneous and imperfect. It is foreign and it is difficult.

As a client, I have to predict I will be uncomfortable with some parts of the expressive arts process: the materials, the subject, the modality, the space, my feelings. In January 2008 at New York Expressive Arts, I worked with Rebekah Windmiller on spending time with discomfort. My challenge during her movement workshop was to avoid lapsing into what she called “autopilot.” If I tried to escape from the discomfort by mentally checking out, I would miss the exercise entirely, but if I could hold the discomfort, I would remain present and sustain my ability to benefit from the exercise. When I accept discomfort as part of the experience, which is inherently foreign and difficult, I am free to muster courage for the creative challenge at hand.

It is not necessary (or advisable!) to wait for a state of total confidence and clarity in order to be willing to take a risk in the art studio. In Creating with Others: The Practice of Imagination in Life, Art and the Workplace (2003) McNiff explains, “Complete safety in any environment or relationship may hinder creativity. Risk, conflict and mistakes are inevitable features of creative exploration and discovery. If we go too far in reducing tension, we are apt to anesthetize the environment and deny the necessary grit that underlies creative vitality.”

Hence, the Goldilocks principle (how to get a “just right” amount?) applies to the difficulty of finding a productive place between “not enough” tension and “too much” tension. How much do I push past my reservations? vs. How much do I honor them?

If I understand that the range of possibility is broad and that my level of success on each occasion will vary depending on any number of factors (medications, distractions, moods, illnesses, etc.), I can accept wherever I am without judgment and without fear of wasting an opportunity for discovery. In “Releasing Voices, Reclaiming Power,” an article about voice work, Heather Chetwynd reassures clients, “Leave judgment behind. … Don’t apply social meaning. … Don’t censor self.” Then, at that point, according to Principles and Practice, the field of play opens up to me:

Poiesis happens not in accordance with intellect and will but through the experience of surrender to a process which I can neither understand nor control in advance. … [I] must be willing to give up the position of the ego, the knowing subject who is master of the world. An element of resistance usually arrive at this point; the fear of letting go of control stands in the way of immersion in the process. A paradoxical will-to-not-will is thus necessary in order to overcome the initial resistance. (p. 41).

Upon this fundamental understanding, McNiff (2004) builds a practical message of reassurance for his clients:

I am always saying to my groups: Trust the process, it knows the way. Breathe with the tensions and they will find their way to transformation. Let the rhythm take you; surrender control to it. Expression is a stream that never stops; let it carry you; there is nothing to grasp; welcome your chaos, your fears, and your resistance–they are signs that you are getting close. Stick with the process. The images never come to hurt you; get to know them better; the disturbing images are trying to get your attention. We hurt ourselves when we panic and lose our breath. When you get frightened, balance your body and focus on your breath. Your breath will keep you safe and it will always carry you where you need to go. Listen to your breath and your body’s simple movements and don’t chase after all of the expectations in your mind” (p. 235-236).

Part II, Me as the practitioner

“It is possible that the scream comes from the forsaken body,
the scream that manifests in a symptom is
the cry of the soul that can find no other way to be heard.
If we have lived behind a mask all our lives,
sooner or later — if we are lucky – that mask will be smashed.”
—Marion Woodman

“Then there is the listening at the gates of the heart
which has been closed for so long, waiting for that mysterious
inner voice to speak. When we hear it, we know
it is the truth to which we must now surrender our lives.”
—Beth Ferris

As the professional in the expressive arts relationship, I am the shepherd of the experience, the steward. Clearly my role (whether in real life I am therapist, counselor, coach or consultant) is more complex than the client’s, who must simply be present and willing. I am responsible for creating a safe space (what Chetwynd calls a “space of nonjudgment”) and helping clients navigate their risks and discoveries safely. In fact, Principles and Practice states that in providing a range of play, we put “discovery and fear in balance” (p. 89).

Before I discuss protecting the space and the client, I want to mention that I have an ethical responsibility to do so. Principles and Practice reminds me to “take into account the condition of the client … and … provid[e] careful explanation” (p. 90), and “if it is a client’s first session, an explanation about art-based decentering is necessary” (p. 168). In addition, the Ethical Guidelines of the IEATA (International Expressive Arts Therapy Association) states:

When working in expressive arts therapy, the REAT (registered expressive arts therapist) must help the client move between and understand the power of the various states of consciousness, e.g., the literal, emotional and imaginal realms. It is very important that the therapist be sensitive to this and aid each client in appropriately using the metaphoric world in the literal aspects of their lives. … As a registered member, one must provide adequate provisions to ensure a client’s safety as s/he enter these nonordinary states.

For this important work, I will create a safe space, and I embrace McNiff’s (2003) description of “keeping the space safe.” More than a physical place, he explains a culture/environment:

If we are inviting people to take risks with their expression, then safety must be a priority. If the environment is relatively free of threats and dangers, it will support the natural and life-enhancing movement of the creative process. People constantly affirm that nothing is more essential in the cultivation of their creative expression than the need for safety. … Unfair treatment, negative judgment, and unrealistic expectations are universally perceived as major threats to expression. … Clear and predictable structure is ironically the best way to promote the expressive freedom of the average person. … Structure liberates so long as it encourages variations of its themes. Clearing the path for others is the sustained discipline of the leader (p. 28-29).

In a later text, McNiff (2004) warns,

We can prepare the space, but we can never know what will appear. … Although this studio-oriented practice differs from traditional psychological methods, I don’t want to abandon the classical clinical values. To me, the term clinical conveys being precise, attentive to what’s going on, responding to the needs of another person, and being observant and present. This is what I do as a keeper of the studio. … When we are truly present with one another and open to whatever needs to be expressed, this pervasive sense of safety and even sacredness can emerge. This is the most fundamental quality of the healing studio. Creative powers are exercised when people feel safe (p. 28-29).

As the client takes risks in her exploration of her inner world or outer reality in the safety of my expressive arts studio, I must, “engage in a kind of shaping throughout all the phases of a session” (Principles and Practice, p. 164) and “make decision[s] about which limits are challenges to be welcomed and which ones are hindrances to be eliminated” (Principles and Practice, p. 135). In other words, while I do not want my client to consider too intensely her own balance between “too much” tension and “not enough,” I must remain attentive:

Both the ritual master and poet have the paradoxical responsibility of structuring a chaotic process; they must lead the participants into an unknown land in which new discoveries can be made, and they must then be able to conduct them safely back to a secure and habitable location (Principles and Practice, p. 44).

To know how (exactly) and when (precisely) to intervene—either in an assistive role or as a “time out”—I must rely on intuition, training and education:

I study history, philosophy and psychology because “theories of practice are attempts to increase sensitivity and expertise in the search for options that help us to be present in the situation’s complexity” (Principles and Practice, p. 164).

I spend time working on my own art because “[my] commitment to working in the studio and the art world at large can only enrich the outcomes elicited during [my] work with clients. As we ourselves struggle with material, technique and style, we develop a greater sense of empathy when our clients wage these same battles during therapy” (Henley).

I celebrate the play and ritual central to expressive arts because the opportunities for awareness and discovery are plentiful. These valuable experiences surprise clients in many ways, including moments of beauty and joy, as well as occasions during which fear and pain may be present. “The artistic play also provides multiplicity and an opportunity to explore the unthinkable (Principles and Practice, p. 112) as in this example—“the challenge of disturbing images”—offered by McNiff (2004):

To those questioning the therapeutic wisdom of welcoming disturbing figures, I can say that I have never encountered an image in an artwork or dream that came to harm the person experiencing it. A student once said to me, “It may come to show me where I hurt, but it doesn’t want to hurt me.” …

The agitated psyche of the artist will frequently generate pictures that seem unpleasant to some, but the ability to make an artistic expression correspond to troubling feelings can bring the artist satisfaction and relief (p. 96).

If my intuition, training and knowledge of my client give me confidence in allowing her to spend time with “disturbing images” or “troubling feelings,” incredible realizations may be achieved. According to Principles and Practice,

There must be a process of destructuring. … The therapeutic effect comes from the ability to stay with the experience of nothingness and fragmentation without imposing a new structure. If the therapist can resist the impulse to help (a paradoxical task, since he or she works on the basis of this impulse), then there is the possibility that the client can find the way to a new sense of self. Creativity in the therapeutic process depends upon this ability to tolerate breakdown (p. 45).

So, while the client balances the amount of risk she is able to take in her exploration, I must balance the amount of risk I am able extend. It depends upon my level of training, the modality and also assessments of the client that I make “moment to moment, before, during and after the session. … Sound assessment ensures that we anticipate the emotional risks of each stimulus and project” (Henley, p. 26). Henley says, “It is up to the art therapist to assess whether a client possesses sufficient ego strength and impulse control to handle … provocative medi[a]” (p. 105).

I need to prepare for the possibility that every decision to push through a client’s intense experience will not be the right one:

It is fair to say that conflict is at the very core of a restoration ritual and does not necessarily change the ‘architecture’ of the ritual. The outbreak of a crisis, on the other hand, needs immediate attention. Crisis management may require a decentering process to stop immediately. … In one-to-one therapy, for instance, this interruption of the decentering happens when emotions overtake the client. The tears, rage or fear need full attention (Principles and Practice, p. 162-163).

According to the online Encyclopedia of Mental Disorders (EMD), precautions must be taken during creative therapies when “strong emotions become overwhelming, thus debilitating the client. Possible indications for caution include the presence of flashbacks, panic attacks, recently revealed trauma or abuse, and vivid and realistic nightmares.” EMD distinguishes between normal and abnormal results of creative therapies:

Normal results: Typical results include increased awareness, the release of suppressed emotions, a general lifting of depressive feelings, increased energy, and the resolution of internal conflict. Ongoing health benefits, such as lowered blood pressure, may result from decreased stress and improved coping skills. A greater sense of self-acceptance and decreased agitation are often experienced by clients.

Abnormal results: Unusual results include increasingly intense feelings of agitation and stress. For some individuals, the techniques may appear to have no benefits. It is recommended that these individuals seek clinical help.

IEATA concurs. In its Ethical Guidelines, it says, “If the registered member feels the client is not benefiting or the work is developing into an area in which they do not feel adequately trained, s/he must consider professional consultation and referral to another professional. This will best serve the client.”

Conclusion

Pat B. Allen begins her book Art is a Way of Knowing with this: “Images take me apart; images put me back together again, new, enlarged, with breathing room” (ix). When practitioners are confident in their abilities at shaping and intervention, they create sacred spaces where clients can engage in productive risk-taking, where the Self together with her shadow-Selves (and all the conflicts between them) can exist safely.

Both client and practitioner may find guidance on this co-existence in the thinking of psychologist James Hillman who advances a Self (a “character”) comprised of many archetypes, decorated with many battle scars:

Hillman suggests we “honor our depression”—that is, allow it to manifest itself in all its forms. The way to do this is through an awakening of the imagination, an attending to the forms of soul wherever they manifest themselves. If we can do this, Hillman suggests, our fragmentation can become experienced as a resource of fertile multiplicity, a source for the renewal of the psyche (Principles and Practice, p. 54).

For Hillman, the person is not a Self but a character. The term “character” for him retains some of its original sense as a mark or trace made upon something by an instrument. Thus a person’s “character” can be said to be the marks or scars that life has traced upon him; our character is our scars (p. 55).

Books consulted/cited

• Allen, Pat. B. Art Is a Way of Knowing: A guide to self-knowledge and spiritual fulfillment through creativity. Shambhala Publications, Boston/London, 1995.
• Henley, David. Clayworks in Art Therapy: Plying the sacred circle. Jessica Kingsley Publishers, London/Philadelphia, 2002.
• Knill, Paolo J., Ellen G. Levine and Stephen K. Levine. Principles and Practice of Expressive Arts Therapy: Toward a therapeutic aesthetics. Jessica Kingsley Publishers, London/Philadelphia, 2005.
• McNiff, Shaun. Art Heals: How creativity cures the soul. Shambhala Publications, Boston/London, 2004.
• McNiff, Shaun. Creating with Others: The practice of imagination in life, art & the workplace. Shambhala Publications, Boston/London, 2003.

Handouts consulted/cited

• Chetwynd, Heather. “Releasing Voices, Reclaiming Power: The personal and collective potential of voice.”

Events described

• New York Expressive Arts Year 1, Training Weekend #5 (January 2008). “Painting and Movement” with Rebeka Windmiller and Denie Whalen

Other

• Encyclopedia of Mental Disorders (minddisorders.com). Online entry regarding “creative therapies.”
• International Expressive Arts Therapy Association’s “Ethical Guidelines”

Expressive arts at New Choice Recovery Center

Judith Prest is a graduate of the Expressive Arts training Program at NYEA and has found a creative way to introduce her expressive arts work to fellow staff members at New Choices Recovery Center in Schenectady, N.Y. Excerpts from the first two newsletters are shown here. To contact Judith, click here.

The following are excerpts from Expressive Arts Update: An Irregularly Published Newsletter for New Choices Staff / Judith Prest, Editor

from Volume 1, Number 1 • February 13, 2007

Greetings –
I have met many of you, but not all of you, and I wanted to find a way to connect and update primary counselors & other staff about my work, so here is my first attempt at an Expressive Arts Update.

First of all, let me say that I am filling the position of “Recreation Therapist”, it having been determined that my training and practice in Expressive Arts Therapy legitimately fills the program requirement for “Recreation Therapy”. With this first “newsletter”, I hope to introduce myself and what I do, and update all of you on some of the work I’ve been doing in groups. I’d also like to be a resource for anyone who has a personal or professional interest in learning more about creativity and healing. Everyone here has been so helpful and welcoming that I want to “give back” something, and that is another reason I am doing this newsletter!

Why Expressive Arts Therapy?

I have a background in Social Work and 20+ years experience in Substance Abuse Prevention working with the CAPIT program through Capital Region BOCES. About 10 years ago, I rediscovered creative writing and began writing poetry for the first time in 25 years. I found poetry and journaling to be integral parts of my own healing journey and began to incorporate writing into my prevention work wherever I could. I learned about “Poetry Therapy” and began reading about that and completed beginning level training in Poetry Therapy.

Then I discovered a local resource for Expressive Art Therapy Training – Glass Lake Studio in Albany (Now known as New York Expressive Arts), and have studied with them for a number of years – most recently completing their 3 year certificate program in Expressive Arts Therapy. I believe that creativity is a vital element for all of us and that it is a key ingredient in recovery from all kinds of damaging life experiences, including addiction. So I am very grateful for this opportunity to begin putting my training to work here at New Choices Recovery Center.

Some info about upcoming events at New York Expressive arts will be included in the “Resources” section of this newsletter, and I’ll update it in each issue.

What is Expressive Arts Therapy, anyway???

Expressive Art Therapy (ExA) operates on the principle that all human beings are creative, and that tapping into that creativity is a healing process. ExA differs from traditional art therapy in several ways. One important distinction is that art therapy springs from a psychodynamic theoretical base while ExA is much more phenomenological. One way this shows up in the work is that in Expressive Art Therapy, no attempt is made by the practitioner to “interpret” the art for the client. The person who makes the art is the one who determines what it means. “Phenomenological” is a complex term for simply responding to what is there on the surface first – what can you SEE, HEAR, TOUCH in the work? What moves you? Where does it lead you next? Another aspect of ExA is that PROCESS of art making is where much of the therapeutic work happens. In art making, we tap into a different part of the brain, bypassing the “logical” thinking part – some experiences are impossible to put into words – making art can help us move below the words, and come to know new aspects of ourselves and our experiences.

ExA is multi-modal meaning that in a single group session, at least two means of expression are used. So far, I’ve mostly been working with visual art and creative writing/poetry – so for instance, we might make a collage and then come up with several words or a poem or a short piece of prose inspired by the process of creating the collage or by simply sitting with the work once it is complete.

In one of the first group sessions, I began with two poems by different authors – both entitled “The Journey” (one by Mary Oliver, one by David Whyte) – we read the poem and talked about lines that resonated – how does this remind of your own journey?, then created collages that represented each individual’s journey (so far) through addiction & recovery.

We’ve also done Mask Making and are now working on “finding the Still Point, the center, and creating Mandalas.”
*
from Volume 1, Number 2 • April 18, 2007

What’s New…

Seasons are shifting, and along with that, I’ve been trying some different modes of expression with groups. With three groups so far, we’ve ventured a bit into “drama” by way of dialogues with our inner critic. The “inner critic” is that part of us that is constantly criticizing and second guessing what we do (and sometimes even what we think). For some of us the inner critic may speak in the “voice” (no, I’m NOT talking about auditory hallucinations!) of an abusive parent, a “mean” teacher or some other authority figure from the past. For others it isn’t so much a “voice” as it is a sense of fear that stops us from saying or doing things. Several people who were willing to try this way of working stated that afterward, they felt better in some way – lighter, clearer – after giving voice to both their “inner critic” AND a response to the inner critic. The “inner critic” is a concept I’ve worked with quite a bit with regard to creative writing and art-making, because the “critic” is probably one of the biggest roadblocks to accessing our creative selves. I think the “critic” is present for most of us around much of what we do – a big part of becoming whole and authentic is learning how to send the critic out for coffee, how to stand up to the critic and how to sometimes incorporate what the critic has to say in a way that will result in healthier choices!

Mother’s Day 2007 & Palettes for Peace

On Mother’s Day 2007, NYEA student Yvonne Lucia was inspired into social action and created the Palettes for Peace project. It invited participants to decorate a wooden artist’s palette through gluing, painting, scribbling, stamping — whatever — with dreams/thoughts/visions for a world at peace.

Mother’s Day • May 13, 2007
By Yvonne Lucia

When I was growing up, there was always a controversy in my house on Mother’s Day. My dad believed that this celebration of mothers was just a ploy by “Madison Avenue” to get people who have mothers (which is everyone) to spend money on cards, candy, and gifts. My mother, on the other hand — the grand matriarch of a household of six active children — loved being singled out for recognition and the opportunity to be treated like “Queen for a Day.”

I admit to having inherited my father’s skepticism — and several years ago I did some research into the origins of this tradition which we celebrate every year on the second Sunday of May. I was surprised to learn that rather than being a sentimental celebration marked by candy and flowers, the seeds for the institution of Mother’s Day were sown from women’s experience of the horrible carnage of the Civil War. In 1870 Julia Ward Howe proposed an annual “Mother’s Day for Peace.” Howe and other mothers who joined her sent a message to the government, which was the original Mother’s Day Proclamation. These lines are from the beginning of her text:

“Arise, then, women of this day! Arise all women who have hearts, whether your baptism be that of water or of tears! Say firmly: ‘We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies, our husbands shall not come to us reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause. Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy, and patience. We women of one country will be too tender of those of another country to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs. From the bosom of the devastated earth a voice goes up with our own. It says ‘Disarm! Disarm! The sword of murder is not the balance of justice.’ Blood does not wipe out dishonor nor violence indicate possession. As men have often forsaken the plow and the anvil at the summons of war, let women now leave all that may be left of home for a great and earnest day of counsel. Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead. Let them then solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means whereby the great human family can live in peace…”

Sixteen years ago, I was in labor with my last child — a son. It was January 1991, during the height of the Gulf War. To try to keep my mind off my discomfort, I turned on the TV in the birthing room. Across the screen blared details of the bombing of Baghdad, the fears of the Israelis, the slaughter of the Iraqis. As I labored, my heart was breaking, because I realized that somewhere in Iraq, somewhere in Israel, women in those distant lands were also laboring to bring forth new life, in the midst of death and devastation. Was my soon-to-be-newborn son’s life any more precious in the eyes of the Creator than the new life being birthed by my Iraqi and Israeli sisters? The powerful contractions of my body became a prayer that the killing would stop, that the madness would cease — and in those moments I understood with every cell in my body what inspired Julia Ward Howe to write the words of that first Mother’s Day Proclamation.

Healthy mothering brings forth life, and desires to sustain life. Ultimately the mother, the life-giver, beholds the mystery that life comes not from her, but through her. The deepest mystery of motherhood is that all life is gift, and that we are stewards, not owners, of that gift. Life is not ours to give or to take — our singular task is to protect it and to nurture it forward.

Imagine a world where everything we do nurtures., rather than destroys, life !!!! Where all of our resources are expended in the service of health, knowledge, creativity, harmony, compassion, and peace!!! May Mother’s Day 2007 herald a renewed Mother’s Day Proclamation, wherein women as well as men pledge to stop the madness of violence and war., to say “Enough is enough.. war is no longer an option for the human species!” Along with the poet Marge Piercy let us ask ourselves: “Where out of our wavering half-tainted desires…can we birth the hard clear image of hope? Who shall bear hope back into the world? Who else but us?”