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Art Therapy

Ribbons of Concrete: Road Drawings in a Prison

Posted on June 12, 2021
Ribbons of Concrete

The Puzzled Look

With the inmate patient sitting across from me, I begin our session by simply asking, “I’d like you to draw a road” from Hane’s (1995) Road Drawing. The look of astonishment is priceless with reactions as raised eyebrows, widening eyes, relaxing shoulders, perplexed head tilts and more. Inmates often do a “say what?” moment to clarify, “ya want me to draw… a road?” or through the barrier of face masks during COVID-19, inmates state, “did you say a rose?” (I’m surprised to learn that many inmates have perfected flower drawings.) With a matter-of-fact demeanor, this art therapist responds, “Yes, a road. What shapes are roads?” Then we discuss potential ideas of what roads look like. Next, a purposeful pause is put into place. For a few minutes, I witness the artmaking process start with silence held while mark making commences. Moving away from talk therapy approaches, the inmate is doing something. From unspoken quiet, all that is heard is the scratching of pen to the paper, a welcomed break from the dorm. No awkward stares, no needed scripts, just image making.

Drop the Pencil

Many times, I witness what I call a “classic road drawing,” that is, a stereotypical two vertical or horizonal lines with a dashed line in between, centered on the page, with a forceful drop of the pencil signaling, “I’m done.” With compliance, many inmates complete the task with an unspoken, “I’m in, but not sure what this is all about.” To encourage development of their road I may ask about details to consider adding or changing. Or, I encourage them to take as much time as needed with a reminder “no high art needed today.”

Get on With It

Per assessment requirements in prison, there’s also a need for the counselor to complete paperwork alongside witnessing the work unfold. As this art therapist covers the token questions of hours of sleep and eating occurrences, disciplinary reports, gain time and more, the inmate responses become more natural and relaxed. By starting with artmaking, both inmate and art therapist are eased into the experience which sets up the foundation for therapy to occur.

Something to Talk About

At session end, I ask an “oh by the way, how did your road [drawing] come out?” Using the formal elements of art, that is, the language of art, we explore the image through the use of line, color, form and shape, value, texture, space, and movement. With healthy distance, we witness the image together as a snapshot of time and begin to dialogue with the road. Here’s some conversations about the road drawings:

Sidewalk     With a drawn sidewalk, an inmate speaks about his experience as a “concrete man” describing the critical need for expansion joints to prevent cracking. His sidewalk turns into a road. Looking like a ladder, the inmate acknowledges, “I’m at the very bottom but there are supports.” We then discuss what it would be like to climb the ladder and what supports could help you as you get higher. How might adding joints in your life allow you to grow? How do you make sense of this? The inmate states, “for these 10 years (his sentence), I need to stay positive and stay on the right path.”

Rainbow Bridge     In another image, an inmate draws a large half circle bridge crossing a river with a bright smiling sun and clouds in the sky. He looks at the images and acknowledges, “freedom, when I’m on the other side.” He observes his large bridge needs some supports like railings and a sidewalk.

Multi-Lane     With this multi-lane road drawing, this inmate describes the left lane as the “right way.” The “wrong way” to the right has less lines in it with many other roads. The inmate states, “The bad side is easy. It’s so easy to veer off that way.” This art therapist notes the “right road” literally moves in the opposite direction to the left possibly suggesting the confusion of making positive choices.

Country Meets City     In this image, the inmate depicts a country road horizontally and city road vertically making a perpendicular intersection with the country road on top.  This young 22-year-old conveys his ambivalence about wanting to return home to the country but desires to see a bigger place. The image begs the question, “Will he go back to his old ways or jump onto the on-ramp?”

Widening     With a rocky start, this inmate describes a curvy narrow road that is straightening out. He later edits the road to widen it at the end because, “that’s the future” and he is pleased. When asked what advice he would give himself over this 10-year sentence, he stated, “Take your own, day-by-day.”

Hometown Map     This inmate states he will be moving out of this state when he gets out. Drawing a map of his community, he depicts neighboring thorough fares and homes in extraordinary detail. He later reflects on the image saying, “I’ll get there,” and I state, “But I thought you said you were moving out of this state?” A flash of sadness crosses his face.

Parroting     On this occasion, I mimicked and drew the inmate’s drawing as he was drawing it. I asked, “How is it for you to draw?” He replied, “Like I’m not in prison” and I retorted, “Then do that!” He labeled the parts of the road as “wide,” “narrow” “loops,” “straight,” and “not wide, 2-way street.” Then, I showed him my version of his road and asked, “wonder what it would be like if water flows down this road?” We discussed how water is fluid, forgiving, and flexing. From motivational interviewing and positive psychology perspectives, the inmate’s positive coping skills were reinforced. Most important, the inmate received a needed message from his created image.

After discussing a road drawing, there seems to be a cathartic release, yet amazement about how “dead on” their road seems to be telling a message most needed.  I acknowledge how this image could provide a pulse check today. “How am I this day? Where is my mind? How does the image inform me about my journey? What do I need? How might I better take care of myself now in prison to prepare for life on the outside?”

Art Therapist with Conviction

Reflecting upon these inmate road drawings, I imagined what it would be like to “fly over” these roads. Looking down from a bird’s eye view, I created an image and poem called “Ribbons of Concrete.”

“Ribbons of Concrete”

Ribbons of concrete
Buckle up that seat
So many roads
That you will meet.
All within this tiny grid
Just thinking ‘bout all they did.
Going straight
Not gonna hate
At crossroads
For a right turn
Hope I don’t get burned
And wind up again
With time to ponder
Plan and wonder
How to return back
To a widening path
Lit up by no more wrath.

From a positive art therapy approach, Wilkinson and Chilton (2018) asserted many benefits of focusing on patients’ strengths to achieve therapeutic goals. Recognizing an inmate’s strengths moves away from the medical model “what’s-wrong-approach.” An inmate’s identity can be strengthened by moving away from “my diagnosis” or “my history” to “my action.” Rather than prescribing targeted coping skills, artmaking demonstrates an inmate’s inherent capabilities in action. This process of self-care in-the-now of artmaking is witnessed and affirmed by this art therapist.

Roads provide a simple and approachable means for inmates to engage in artmaking (Hanes, 1995). As symbols of movement, time and direction, road images get to the heart of the matter: “Who am I? Where am I now?” Gussak (1997) pointed out, “possibly unbeknownst to the correctional staff, the inmates in prison have already ‘escaped by putting on masks’ ” (p. 68). As an art therapist with conviction, I bring up these protective masks as purposeful for safety but in no way suggesting who they really are. These ribbons of concrete, a myriad of roads, provide a welcome invitation: inmates can pause and be reminded of who they really are behind these walls.

References

Gussak, D. E. (1997). Drawing time: Art therapy in prisons and other correctional settings. Chicago: Magnolia Street Publishers.

Hanes, M. J. (1995). Utilizing road drawings as a therapeutic metaphor in art therapy. The Arts in Psychotherapy, Rehabilitation, and Education, 34(1), 19-23.

Wilkinson, R. & Chilton, G. (2018). Positive art therapy theory and practice: Integrating positive psychology with art therapy. New York: Routledge.

Art Therapy

Devil Show: Manipulation in Art Therapy Prison Work

Posted on May 17, 2021
Devil Show

What Happens in Vegas

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, so the tagline goes. In no time, prison can rear up its dark side harkening things no one asks about. From a bet gone wrong, gang activity, conflicts with security and so on, violence is a by-product of prison life. After conviction, criminal activity doesn’t necessarily end once an inmate starts doing time. When laws are broken behind bars, inmates are sent to confinement.

In Your Tiny Little Cell

Confinement is essentially the jail for prison. Inmates are housed in confinement as they go through a hearing process for the rule violation and if found guilty, receive a disciplinary report (DR) and sentencing. DR’s can reduce gain time for eligible inmates and can extend their EOS (end of sentence). In confinement, inmates lose the privilege of living in an open bay or 2-man cell living quarters with open areas to walk about. In contrast, confinement entails small cells with restricted movement such as only getting phone privileges once per week. If inmates continue to break rules, an inmate could be transferred to an institution with Close Management (CM) for tighter control.

The Game

On this Friday, mental health was contacted by confinement to see an inmate claiming “psychological emergency,” that is, the inmate is stating he is suicidal or homicidal. On the walk down, I am granted permission to enter. Taking my first breath of the putrid confinement air, I begin to cough and tear up. Walking into the entrance, the seemingly normal air is not clear at all. Uncontrollably, I begin coughing and tearing. In the space, many officers are coughing with puffy eyes but walking at a normal pace with the look of “just another day in the office.” Looking up into the face of this inmate, he looks unphased. Earlier this day, this inmate was inappropriate and uncooperative when mental health checks were completed. Post-pepper spray, he was able to wash up. He stood tall, angry and matter-of-fact, awaiting his opportunity to stick-it-to security by getting a ticketed move out of confinement from his mental health visit.

Idol-ness of Prison Life

In the song “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” the devil offers a bet to a boy named Johnny for the best fiddle playin’. To kick off this soul quest, the devil says, “I’ll start this show” (Hayward et al., 1979, May 21). In prison, manipulation is the name of the game. From the idleness of living, inmates often find maladaptive ways to spend their time. This idleness can become “idol-ness,” pointing inmates into this revered path to exploit other inmates, staff or prison services. With nothing to do, serving time can become the devil’s time.

Art Therapist with Conviction

Nothing wakes you up like the unknowing whiff of pepper spray in the morning. If you haven’t already questioned why you’re working there, an existential crisis could definitely ensue. Reflecting upon this peppery show, I created a poem and image called “Devil Show.”

“Devil Show”

Hidden to the eye
Nose finds flames – oh my!
Throat’s closing & binding
Doubling over
Eyes water
Coughing ensues
There’s a job to do.

Looking up at pain
From the burning rain
So sad to see such effort
Require the need of pepper.

Pains behind these bars
Spread to make more scars
Cycle over and over repeats
Boredom from these streets.

Creativity finds its path
But this way causes wrath
How may we implore
A way to pay debts
To be so much more.

Watching the “Devil Show,” this scheme often gets stuck in reruns: new inmate, new day but same show. From the song “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” Johnny stated, “Devil, just come on back if you ever wanna try again, ‘Cause I’ve told you once–you son of a bitch–I’m the best there’s ever been” (Hayward et al., 1979, May 21). Like pepper spray filling a room, confinement is infused again with these droplets of deceit. Drawing the image allowed me to see the sadness of the situation. Plus, I could step back and recognize the inherent manipulation of therapeutic work in prison. Looking up into the eyes of this anger, most inmates are masking a felt idleness and depression. Gussak (2020) stated there’s a need to “rehumanize the dehumanized;” pointing out the need for inmates to regain their identity which is often stripped in this controlled setting. At the end of the day, this art therapist with conviction now knows, “Granny, does your dog bite? No, child, no.”

References

Gussak, D. E. (2020). Art and art therapy with the imprisoned: Re-creating identity. New York: Routledge Taylor & Francis Group.

Hayward, C. F., Daniels, C., Edwards, F., Marshall, J. W., Crain, J. & Digregorio, W. J. (1979, May 21). The Devil Went Down to Georgia. [Recorded by Charlie Daniels Band]. On Million Mile Reflections. New York City, NY: Epic Records.

Art Therapy

On the Road Again: Change in the Corrections Setting

Posted on April 11, 2021
"How Are You?"

“On the road again, goin’ places that I’ve never been. Seein’ things that I may never see again,” sang country singer Willie Nelson (1980, August). In fact, inmates live this transient life. Many inmates start out “couch surfing,” and become homeless, living in tents. At the point of incarceration, most have more than worn out the welcome mat with family and friends. Doing time means “getting 3 hots and a cot,” that is 3 meals and a bed which is more consistent than when living free.

In a Blink of an Eye

With no schedule living “on the streets,” inmates come into incarceration and experience the same bouncing around, with constant dorm or facility reassignments. Some may get released; some are retained for a lengthy court trial and many go to prison. Inconsistency is the consistency. As a result, planning art therapy services becomes challenging with all the movement.

Re·​cid·​i·​vism

Over time, it’s easy for facility staff to become hardened and jaded. Especially when witnessing the reoffend cycles. These cycles are measured by recidivism, which is basically a measure of the time before relapse and reconviction. Generally, an inmate with a long rap sheet may recidivate more quickly or younger inmates may recidivate more quickly than older inmates (National Institute of Justice, n.d.). When starting therapy groups, I was doubtful about establishing regular patients. To my surprise, I maintained a steady group of inmates awaiting sentencing. Also, I witnessed many group members voluntarily return to therapy sessions months later upon rearrest.

Lather, Rinse, Repeat

One inmate had a history of heavy drug use and domestic violence. While in jail he gained back a healthy weight, but returned months later and 40 pounds lighter after a return to his usual lifestyle. Another inmate had a college degree but maintained an extensive history of arrests. Seeing the pain of pattern and witnessing the cycle on repeat can be exhausting. The fog of extensive drug use, toxic relationships, complicated lives and trauma appears as perfunctory as a morning shower, just lather, rinse, repeat.

Emotions Made Tangible

The emotional toil is heavy especially when made tangible through physical signs. Bloody eyes, cuts, bruises, busted lips, poor skin tone, missing or broken teeth, tremors, the list goes on. Further, suicidal gestures often come into this mix and must be evaluated for valid attempts or manipulation for other services. According to the Bureau of Justice Statistics, suicide is the leading cause of death in jail, with jail rates superseding that of prison and the general population (2020).

Art Therapist with Conviction

So, how do you cope in the corrections environment? As an art therapist, reflective artmaking helps by enabling painful feelings to become tangible and eventually manageable.

How Are You?

Helpless in a hopeless system
Staring into the pain of shock
How can this happen on this block?
Justice is distanced to the powerless
Caught in process & brokenness
Sea of red pooling
Encircling the soul
Shock, horror and why bestow —
None are blameless, you know.

But some lines should never be crossed
Otherwise humanity is tossed
An innocent “how are you”
Now becomes misconstrued
For stories shared in close proximity
Reveal this needless calamity
Egos and power struck down
Edging God out of this town.

Those left in the wake of wrath
Must now pick up pieces for a path
To take them out of bodily pain
In hopes to erase the mental strain
Of another complication
Too difficult a situation.

Breathe in breath of life…
Help lessen this strife…
May blood tears dry up this grime
So wrongdoings can fit their crime.

In my reflective poem and image “How Are You?,” I drew the pain that I witnessed. Bloody red paint was applied with a layered, dense wash. With the defined bulging eyeball and purplish-yellow bruising, the image is painful to look at. Art provided me some distance. More important, the image and poem provided me a voice; yet I never uttered a word.

References

Department of Justice. Office of Justice Programs. Bureau of Justice Statistics. (2020, February). Mortality in Local Jails, 2000-2016 –Statistical Tables by E. A. Carson and M. P. Cowhig. Washington DC: Bureau of Justice Statistics. Retrieved from the Bureau of Justice Statistics Web site: https://www.bjs.gov/content/pub/pdf/mlj0016st.pdf?utm_content=mci&utm_medium=email&utm_source=govdelivery

National Institute of Justice. (n.d.). Recidivism. https://nij.ojp.gov/topics/corrections/recidivism

Nelson, W. (1980, August). On the road again. Honeysuckle Rose. [Vinyl record]. New York City, NY: Columbia Records.

Art Therapy

A Parting Gift: Creating Art Therapy Images in a Jail

Posted on April 4, 2021
Life Noise

Working as an art therapist in a jail, this blog intended to give life to the things I have witnessed. At this moment, my freedom feels trapped. The initial direction at the jail was to collect images at the end of each session to use again with patients. As a parting gift, I even thought the portfolio could be returned as inmates exited the facility. Unique to art therapy practice, images become a physical reminder of the therapeutic process. In the closure phase, patients can review their images to see their growth and further instill learnings and to consider future goals.

Close Management of Images

Images must be protected from misuse according to the Art Therapy Credentials Board Code of Ethics, Conduct and Disciplinary Procedures (2021, March). Since images are considered confidential, any use must be discussed with the patient with signed consents obtained. From the Tallahassee Democrat article, “Art doesn’t lie,” stated Dr. Gussak, PhD, ATR-BC reflecting from his extensive work with aggressive and violent offenders (Brown, 2019, July 13). Most important, images are to be respected, a “birthing” made from an individual engaging with the therapeutic process. Since every person is unique, so too, the marks on the paper must be viewed from the perspective of the person.

On the other hand, art in jail can be used as a weapon to physically or emotionally hurt or extort others. Images returning back to the dorm could be viewed with pride or seen as an open wound left to the interpretation of other inmates. In an environment where it is safest to “stick to yourself,” images from group therapy may have some unintended risks.

Wrestling with Security

From a report on national jail statistics, the average length of stay is 26 days with a 53% turnover rate according to the Department of Justice (2021). With limited space and no notice when someone is released or transferred, I realized retaining the images was futile. Further, security required the images to be collected at the end of each session. In the best interest of the patients, I determined it was best to inform the group participants the images would be collected and not maintained in records (that is, images were shredded.)

Dealing with Loss

With so much deprivation behind bars, I recognized the images could be just another reminder of loss. This topic opened group discussion about the impermanence of things; acceptance for what we can or cannot control; mixed feelings about loss; and building trust in this group process in an imperfect, changing place.

The Executioner

With no hesitation, shredding the images was difficult and sad for me. I witnessed each image as I carefully inserted the creations into the slot of the paper shredder. In my response art, I created a poem and image, “Life Noise”:

“Life Noise”
I want to love them all
They all have a chance
Each worthwhile journey, a dance
Entertaining each and balancing all
Can create quite the crash & fall
Each came with honest intentions
Begging for my needed attention
A hum and a noisy creation
Ego-guised, lost concentration
As mind filled to the brim
Oh how I want to love all of them.

Art Therapist with Conviction

In reflection, I recognized my own worry as the images quickly stacked up. I saw my own sadness and loss as the executioner by shredder. Yalom (1989) imparted his clinical assumption that “basic anxiety emerges from a person’s endeavors, conscious and unconscious, to cope with the harsh facts of life, the ‘givens’ of existence” (p. xii). With gratitude, art has revealed a truth for me this day: my attachment to images. From the poem, I read this line again: “I want to love them all.” Of course I do. Images powerfully exalt meaning making over the course of a lifetime, quite the parting gift.

References

Art Therapy Credentials Board. (2021, March). Code of Ethics, Conduct and Disciplinary Procedure [PDF file]. Retrieved from https://www.atcb.org/resource/pdf/ATCB-Code-of-Ethics-Conduct-DisciplinaryProcedures.pdf

Brown, M. (2019, July 13). Professor’s discoveries: Art behind bars springs art from the heart. Tallahassee Democrat. https://www.tallahassee.com/story/life/2019/07/13/professors-discoveries-behind-bars-springs-art-heart/1713435001/

Department of Justice. Office of Justice Programs. Bureau of Justice Statistics. (2021). Jail inmates in 2019 by Z. Zeng and T. Minton. Washington DC: Bureau of Justice Statistics. Retrieved from the Bureau of Justice Statistics Web site: https://www.bjs.gov/content/pub/pdf/ji19.pdf

Yalom, I. D. (1989). Love’s executioner and other tales of psychotherapy. New York: Basic Books.

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.