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”