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artmaking

Art Therapy

Lava Tree: Anger in a Female Correctional Setting

Posted on April 18, 2021
lava tree guided drawing

Closet-Sized Interview Room

After receiving back to back mental health and group requests from a patient, I was a bit apprehensive about her coming to group this day. From an earlier individual session, Mary angrily demanded that I change jail rules so she could be moved from her current housing. She became louder and more enraged unable to speak rationally. Sitting together in a closet-sized interview room, her anger required me to conclude our session early for safety. In any correctional institution, only security designates dorm assignments for inmates. When faced with the reality of their legal situation, inmates become angry and pose challenges to safe expression in a female correctional group setting.

What Keeps Us Alive

In this group of 8 female inmates, all participants had been to the group previously and Mary attended today for the first time. To begin, we reviewed the group rules and any new members signed the rules. The session began with psychoeducation about a breathing technique. I began to ask them questions about how many times on average does one take a breath in a minute? (Approx. 15). How much oxygen is in our air? (21%) The discussion culminated with one main point about the breath: no matter what, the body will keep us alive by breathing. Further, I shared what an amazing discovery, the very essence of what keeps each of us alive is already within us. We can tether ourselves to the rhythm of our breath anytime. From my studies of mindfulness researcher and practitioner Kabat-Zinn (1994), I encouraged connection to the breath as if our life depended on it. Next, the group was led in a breathing and guided imagery meditation, asking patients to imagine a safe place in nature they enjoy, a place imagined or real and where they can be by themselves.

Resting Bitch Face

After the restful venture, members expressed they felt calm and refreshed. Mary was disengaged, maintaining her “resting bitch face.” So, I began our project by asking each person to choose an object from their imagined safe place in nature. Then provided crayons, card stock, white copy paper and scrap paper remnants. Next, I invited them to sculpt and/or draw their objects from nature in any way they wish. With joy, patients engaged with the materials in a fury of creation with conversation.

Scribble Your Way Out

Mary sat unmoving with her blank piece of white paper in front of her. I asked which hand she uses to write with. She signaled, moving her right hand. I suggested to help her get started, “use your left hand and scribble with the crayon to fill up the page.” She looked at me and did not comply. With calm, I returned to drawing alongside the group. Slowly, she began to draw.

Lava to Rock

As patients finished, a natural conversation about the images emerged. Last to speak, Mary shared about her image. She said it was a bumpy road and a tree. The road, wide at the bottom of the page, triangulated up to a flat line towards the top of the page. With reluctance, she commented the road was originally going to be a volcano. In the image, the road was filled with numerous brown dots, suggesting a bumpy ride. To its left, a large tree with lines on its trunk opened to a crown of truncated, dagger-like branches. A faint indication of light green marks was made on the branches.

For Every Season

Another patient asked, “what season is this?” Mary replied, “I don’t know.” I suggested, “maybe it could be spring, looks like the leaves are sprouting.” Time was up; we reviewed ways mindfulness and creativity can be added in moments through their day to release stress and tension back in their jail dorm. I provided praise for their creativity, openness and flexibility to the group task. Patients expressed gratitude for this group providing a break from the dorm. Then, everyone got up and gathered at the steel green door awaiting to hear the electronic sound of the lock to be escorted back to their dorm by the deputy.

Cutting the Tension

As I cleaned up the room, I witnessed the remaining images as bright and cheerful recalling stories of music, families, homes, picnics and more. Mary’s image stood in contrast with harsh textures and no story of good times. When lava cools, the magma forms rock. Likewise, Mary moved from a volcano to that of a bumpy road and tree. Possibly, the group members may have encouraged her to move away from the tension or she may have felt the pressure to conform. Perhaps, the small hints of sprouted leaves might make room for a new way.

Art Therapist with Conviction

Through my art therapy education, artmaking is engrained not only for patients but for us art therapists too. In supervision, artmaking helps to reflect on our therapeutic process with patients. Based on Elbrecht’s (2018) Guided Drawing process, I created a series of 3 images called “For Every Season” to reflect on this session. With 2 oil pastels in hand, I imagined the hostility and anger felt by my patient as lava erupting through hard up and down scribbles that truncated at the top. Physically, I felt claustrophobic, trapped by the anger. In the second image, I drew the dagger-like branches. With eyes closed, it felt like I was punching. In my final image, I imagined what I needed to move away from this pain. I chose a sunny yellow and light blue water oil pastels and calmly drew flowing circles. I stopped to scribble some earthy green leaves. With careful body attention, I was able to release the witnessed tension and come back to my calm core. In reflection, I recalled the song, Turn! Turn!, Turn! (1961): “To everything (turn, turn, turn)/There is a season (turn, turn, turn)/And a time to every purpose, under heaven.” Then I desired: “A time for peace, I swear it’s not too late.”

References

Elbrecht, C. M. (2018). Healing trauma with guided drawing: A sensorimotor art therapy approach to bilateral body mapping. Berkeley, CA: North Atlantic Books.

Seeger, P. (1961). Turn! Turn! Turn!. [Recorded by The Byrds]. On Mr. Tambourine Man [Vinyl record]. New York City, NY: Columbia Records.

Kabat-Zinn, J. (1994). Wherever you go, there you are: Mindfulness meditation in everyday life. New York: Hyperion.

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

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