Monthly Archives:

March 2021

Art Therapy

Shoot the Breeze: Holding Space for Artmaking

Posted on March 30, 2021

“Shoot the Breeze”

Follow the rules
So you’re not missed
Amongst those on the list.
Line up against the wall
Follow the leader

With security in tow.
One hour a week
To take the walk
Down the halls
Through lots of locks
To find a break from the dorm
A silence begins to form
What’s that you say
“I’m good”
Ain’t that enough for the day?
Then this crew began
To reminisce about a can
A barrel precisely
For burning refuse wisely.

Then with a turn of the head
You can’t understand
Our musings said.
Silence broken
Then laughter rolled
So follow the rules
Humanity restored.

Make a Walk

This morning, I dropped off my patient list at the security tower in the jail. I stopped in a few minutes early to remind the deputy the therapy group was about to begin. He walked down the iron steps from the tower. The heavy green painted dorm door was popped and a boisterous yell ensued calling the names off my group list. Patiently, I waited with all my belongings in tow. Then, inmates began to exit the dorm and line the walls. Security performed a pat search and then escorted them in a line much like the days of elementary school. To make the walk, I followed behind the deputy to the last cinder block room. It was a painfully slow walk for me, but the inmates seemed to enjoy the stroll. They looked at new sights, sometimes seeing friends at other dorm doors shouting “what’s up.”

Cinder Block Classroom

At the end of the hall, the classroom opened to a sea of bland block walls, folding tables and green plastic chairs. To my delight, I found a room of nothingness; because some days, this room doubles as a barber shop with “fresh clippings” unswept. Today, quiet cheerfulness seems to be the mood. Inmates know they have to “turn off” dorm life and now come to “civil life.” One wrong move and they might lose the freedom to get out of the dorm, catch a disciplinary action or worse, get reassigned to confinement for their misdeeds.

No Politics or Religion

In group, inmates are directed to create a scribble with their nondominant hand. As the scratching of colored pencils begins to subside, silence fills the room. Today, there seems to be a reluctance to participate. Inmates are glad to be there but don’t want to “put themselves out there.” A lone voice speaks up. “I’d like to talk but I can’t because it’s about religion.” One of the group rules is not to discuss politics or religion. Usually when I review this rule, a sigh of relief fills the room. Many inmates have shared about the how these hot topics implode in the battleground dorm.

A Scribbled Mess

Considering the group contract, I realized this rule may be impending a freedom to share. So, I explained we are not here to banter the ‘should’s’ or ‘should nots’ about religion or politics. However, spiritual or religious ideas are important to each individual and should not be discounted. The inmate felt relieved, “so I can talk about how my image relates to my faith?” “Yes,” I replied. He stayed on topic and spoke freely about how he realized he needs to mature in his faith. Looking at his scribble, he could see what a mess he has made of his life. He is saddened about taking another trip to prison. Other group members begin to open up. Many in the room have either been to prison, are fighting a legal battle to keep from going to prison, or already sentenced and waiting on the “bluebird” (prison bus) to show.

Humanity over a Burn Barrel

As the leader, I noticed that I am beginning to shrink into the background. The discussion gets heavy. Then one inmate, who wears sunglasses (all the time) speaks up. He reminisces about how they (on the outside) hung out many a’ night by the burn barrel. Inmates began to laugh and speak lovingly about sitting and watching their trash fire. The group evolved from coldness to warm laughter. They forgot I was there. Then, out of the side of the first inmate’s eye, he turned to me and laughed, “she doesn’t even know what a burn barrel is.” He meant it with all sincerity and I responded in the moment by laughing out loud. Nothing had to be said. We all laughed. Holding the space, the art therapy hour moved a group of inmates away from their manipulative ways, a myriad of feelings were expressed and many thoughts were heard, “humanity restored.”

Art Therapist with Conviction

In my painting, “Shoot the Breeze,” I imagined our group sitting around the burn barrel. I tried on the fingerless gloves. With hands outstretched warming over the fire, I sat in the dark and witnessed the fire growing. I’m reminded of Shaun McNiff’s (2015) ‘principle of simultaneity.’ The idea is we have the choice of witnessing everything in the moment while also sacrificing some things because so much is happening at the same time. With so much going on, I knew some things could be missed and also felt honored to hold the space. When I heard, “she doesn’t even know what a burn barrel is,” I reacted to the space created by this group of incarcerated inmates. For, I laughed with them.  In a place of so much meaninglessness and emptiness, a group making art tapped into their free choice to create. Opening up about their ultimate concerns, this group discovered meaning and purpose from a little scribble this day.

References

McNiff, S. (2015). Imagination in action: Secrets for unleashing creative expression. Boston, MA: Shambhala Publications, Inc.

Art Therapy

Jail vs. Prison: It’s Not the Same

Posted on March 21, 2021

Jail and prison both house people behind bars. However, the two places serve completely different purposes. Upon arrest, a person is charged with a crime(s). Then, the person is taken to a county jail for booking and intake processing through classification, medical, and mental health services. Keep in mind, inmates are innocent until proven guilty through a court of law.

Let’s Rumble and Roll

Jails are noisy, busy and cramped. Metals doors locking, opening and banging creates its own rhythmic sound. Doors are “popped” to move in new intakes, released inmates or inmates being transferred to prison. With the roaring sound of inmates talking or shouting in the dorms, inmates are constantly being called out for services.  For instance, there could be sick calls or medication lines, visits with attorneys, public defenders, children services, or chaplains. Court processes require movement of inmates with escorts for first appearance or sentencing. Inmates may be reassigned dorms due to sickness, suicidal ideation, or getting a “DR,” a disciplinary report for breaking rules such as fighting, not following orders, attempting to establish a relationship with staff, drugs, etc.

High Anxiety

In jail, anxiety is high and sleep is deprived. From their bunks, inmates spend a vast amount of time is sitting and waiting. There’s nothing to do. Inmates may average 45-60 days in jail upon release. According to TIME, a large number of inmates experience court continuances especially with delays due to COVID-19 (Chan, 2021, February 21). If sentenced to more than “a year and a day,” the inmate will most likely be transferred to a prison.

Sigh of Relief

When sentenced to prison, inmates are given their “EOS,” end of sentence date. Depending on the offense, a prisoner may qualify for gain time, days earned for good behavior for an earlier release. Anxiety often subsides and morphs into boredom. Prisoners often experience depression guised as anger. Tick tock, the battle comes with the clock.

Life Behind Bars

Prison is dominated by rule and order. With large grounds and dorms, prisoners can use time to get their GED, learn technical skills or practice theology and to work in the prison. Prisoners with life sentences often have a grieving process then eventually create their own routine. Forming cliques, prison populations morph into “communities.” Many prisoners attempt to stay to themselves but often turn to crime inside with gangs and drug use.

Art Therapy with Conviction

In my art reflection, I created a zentangle, or random scribble within the confines of a box called “New Life in the Heap.” Below is the reflective poem.

“New Life in the Heap”

Curious patterns
Push through this heap
Life of fresh leaves
Mixed and steeped
Everyone now and then
Emerging for a puff of wind
Serpentine wriggling
Through fluffy soil
Something good can be found
Here in trouble and toil
New life exists here
Even though paths aren’t clear
Yes something good from rubbish
As it folds and cures
Feeds new life, soul matures.

Ya Never Know What You Might Get

From my image and poem “New Life in the Heap,” I am reminded each day, “ya never know what you might get” in jail or prison. When things go down, these institutions become a confusing scribble. As I filled in the shapes with color, I began to see a compost heap emerge. Often, prison is viewed as a place where people are cast away. However, these layers of refuse, trauma and crime begin to pile up. Then, I noticed in the image, a pink earthworm began to find its way to the top. According to Penn State Extension (2013, September 5), these “lowly animals” are an “important part of the soil ecosystem” often helping to stimulate life where there is no movement. How might the churn of jail and prison doors till new soil and inspire new life from this heap?

References

Chan, M. (2021, February 21). ‘I want this over.’ For victims and the accused, justice is delayed as COVID-19 snarls courts. TIME. https://time.com/5939482/covid-19-criminal-cases-backlog/

Duiker, S. (2013, September 5). Earthworms [PDF file]. University Park, PA: Penn State Cooperative Extension College of Agricultural Sciences. Retrieved from https://extension.psu.edu/earthworms

Art Therapy

Prison From an Art Therapist View

Posted on March 13, 2021
prison art therapist view

“Well-Come Mat”

Drifting tendrils of smoke
Fold upon one another
Suspended and held softly
Like that of a mother

Mind drifting upward
Opening to vast space
Shifting thoughts emerge as
Love seats its new place

Heaviness sitting above 
Thoughts burden this crown
With bulging waves of matter
What was up, is now down.

Seeing from a curious view
Putting this matter in its seat
Heart begins to fill
Connecting with all complete.

Ah, but just the beginning
Shift provided from the spirit
New perspective enlightens
So we as witness can bear it.

For love can dispel doubt
When all is welcome at the mat
Turns things around
So fears will fall flat. 

The Daily Prison Commute

Welcome to prison from an Art Therapist view. You’re invited! Enter through the heavy iron doors with me. Make sure you’re wearing your surgical mask upon entry. Once the covid-19 screening is complete, security check-in will commence. Honoring the 3-people maximum, patiently wait your turn to place shoes, jacket and all possessions into a tub.

Overheard are officer announcements reminding all of the forbidden entry items. With your belongings in a tote, place your stuff on the conveyor for an airport-like screening and then contents are tossed like a salad in search of contraband. With a wave from security, you are motioned to walk through the metal detector which often signals a bonus pat-down search. Grab your tossed tub o’ stuff and put yourself back together.

In a tight shared space, waiting lines emerge for keys, body alarms, radios and more. Some days you hear of training on the range and witness Kevlar vests, rifles and the like spiraling through. This rough sea of security, medical, programs, administration and support staff converge in this one spot with buzzing, slamming iron doors.

Artmaking begins with a Prison Walk

Beyond this space begins your walk onto the compound lined with spiraling razor wire and massive fencing. Facing east, the morning walk through the fencing always gives way to witness the warm, stunning glow of many ‘a rising sun.

You can count on both hands the number of locked doors and gates to my place of practice. With trepidation, press the button to signal security that “I’m here or we’re here” and “ready to go there, “ unlocking each door through each point. In some institutions, pressing the button is viewed as sacrilege and one is reminded that patience is a virtue. Sometimes you get locked in a vestibule between two doors. You wonder, what if no one is there? How long might I hang out? But then, common sense reminds you of the humanness of this place–in due time. 

Now, walk to the internal compound where inmates may be moving food carts or cleaning the fresh droppings from feathered friends that have found the perfect nesting ground. Approach the entry to your wing of the facility, your Shangri-la for the day. Now clocked in, what might this day have in store?

Art as a Visual Language 

In the image “Well-Come Mat,” the warm glow of day is captured as it breaks against the cold gray concrete and steel. With watercolor, I painted in the sky. Then, I used colored pencil for details. How may security or staff see the morning? Are inmates afforded this view from their dorms? From my vantage, the beauty of the sky fills less than half the image. Stepping back, the chain link creates a gridded barrier like when trying to focus an image through a camera. Looking straight up the fencing, the feeling is oppressive saying, “you ain’t gettin’ out of here.” As I squint my eyes, the image falls flat, but the sky gently warms. Inviting boredom, horizontal lines flatten, begging a peek over the other side. Up close, there are scuffs on the sidewalk and rusty stains on the building.

Dawn Break Signals

In reflection, twilight points to the desire for hope; for “it’s a new day.” Yet, the warming light contradicts the looming gray fortress. Is it possible we need the dark to experience the light? Is this the way to bear witness to dehumanization creeping in? The World Health Organization (1948) defined health as “a state of complete physical, mental and social well-being and not merely the absence of disease or infirmity… and the definition has not been amended since 1948.” Within the image, a welcome mat is placed upon exit, signaling a cleansing, a preparation of going back into the “real world.”  How about “well-come?” Another way stated, “Did well-being take place?”

Artmaking as a Conviction

With conviction, I humbly present an image that began as a “felt sense,” a feeling and thought finding its way through artistic media onto paper (Rappaport, 2009). Bypassing verbal defenses, the art product comes direct from the source making the intangible, tangible. Often, images beg more questions than answers. Behind bars, art becomes perfect fodder for trying to make sense of the senseless. Artmaking as catharsis, allows for a state of flow (Csikszentmihalyi, 2008) to see prison from an art therapist’s view. To deepen an art therapy session, the presence of a masters-level Art Therapist can hold the space and guide the conversation for discovery.

Art Therapist and an Honorary Life Member (HLM) of the American Art Therapy Association (AATA) Bruce Moon (2009) coined the term “canvas mirror” or how we dialogue with the image. From my canvas mirror today, I wiped my shoes on the welcome mat and pondered how others choose to do their sole cleansing. 

References

Csikszentmihalyi, M. (2008). Flow: The psychology of optimal experience. New York: HarperCollins Publishers.

Moon, B. (2009). Existential art therapy: The canvas mirror. (3rd ed.). Springfield, IL: Charles C Thomas Publisher, Ltd.

Rappaport, L. (2009). Focusing-Oriented art therapy: Accessing the body’s wisdom and creative intelligence. London:
Jessica Kingsley Publishers. World Health Organization. (1948). Constitution of the World Health Organization: Principles. Retrieved from https://www.who.int/about/who-we-are/frequently-asked-questions