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.