Art Therapy

[Visitor]

Do, or have, you partaken in art therapy?

What have you learnt, from art therapy, that has contributed to your self-improvement?

[Visitor]

As a child, for over ten years, dread was just outside the bedroom door.

Silence was my best friend. I feel safe all alone in silence. I still do after 50 years. It's where I find truth.

 

 

Edited May 9, 2017 by Visitor

[Visitor]

Little-me.

I was about seven when I first experienced conscious insignificance. It was during a hiding. I was on the floor in front of a lounge chair. I felt myself shrinking into the carpet. No matter how small I felt, or how much my self diminished, I was still there, somewhere deep in the carpet.

For many years, whenever my ego was under severe threat, I would relive the diminishing.

No matter how insignificant I may feel, the little-me that cannot be invalidated is my original innocent self. It is that little part of me that remains pure and true. I can always rely on it to be there. It is untouchable, safe, and the source of my love.

[Epiphany_Inspired]

Yes...but to be honest it's weird if you come from a professional art background...still. my most recent experience with it was wonderful...it was during the second to last workshop I attended...and what helped me the most is really silly, but true....it was the crayons...lol....the way they can't make a perfect line no matter how steady your hand is...the childhood connection....the freedom...it's bizarre the unexpected things that come out...and the interpretations...

That said, I personally believe art therapy, like ALL art is a personal experience, up to the creator of it to give meaning. it's ok for others to offer insights, but I don't think it should be used as a tool to psycho-analyze anyone...just be expressive, enjoy!

[Guest Annetta]

Yes, I'm all about art therapy as a way to relieve stress and let go of past demons!
Art is a fantastic way to loosen the pickle jar on some the traumas that come with life.

I'm currently working on a piece that is helping me overcome some things as a child.
 

[Visitor]

@Epiphany_Inspired Thanks for your response.

I used art therapy on myself for a number of reasons. Each for searching a deeper meaning. The ones which are done very quickly, by using charcoal, pencil or pen, are done  for face the fears that haunted me. There are some that were created unintentionally via doodles. Others were done slowly in the form of paintings and collages.

I do not do art professionally. For me, art is a means to self-discovery. I have rarely done any art, over the last thirty years, while working as a counsellor. Now that I am retired, art is creeping back into my life.

The above examples were my past haunts. They no longer have hold on me. I am posting these examples to share with others that art therapy can be an alternative approach to healing.

In relation to art therapists, my understanding is that their main role is to encourage others to release their inhibitions and at the other end of the scale to assist in any debriefing the creator may need for recovery/grounding. Art therapy can be used in many ways, such as finding and loving one's own gender, or for even connecting with the opposite gender within themselves. Such discoveries can release a lot of self imposed barriers/impasses. 

[Visitor]

3 hours ago, Annetta said:

...I'm currently working on a piece that is helping me overcome some things as a child.
 

Hello Annetta.

Would you be willing to share your art therapy piece (and others) when you are finished with it? I would be interested in knowing how it has helped your self-improvement.

[Guest Annetta]

@Visitor For sure

[Visitor]

Both neighbours on either side of us have complained to my father about my screaming (while being beaten). I did not hear enough of the conversations to understand. I thought the neighbours were angry with me for making a noise. Well that was what my father implied. Then one day I was getting flogged in the lounge room when my father got interrupted by a knock on the door. It was the neighbour from across the road. He threatened to call the police if he did not stop beating me. I thought 'The police? That is serious!' My father angrily told him to mind his own business and slammed the door in his face. Then my father left the room. It was then, for the first time, that I realized that something was seriously wrong.

I thought, maybe it was not my fault, but my father's. From that day on, I avoided my father as best I could. I kept questioning my beliefs about parents being all knowing, all correct, and godlike. Now I am realizing that they are not perfect, especially my father. My mother didn't know what to do. I think she was scared too, though I never saw or heard any evidence of them fighting. It was a wake-up call. I was now on my own. Survival was totally up to me now.

I was in my late forties when I did this quick sketch. It has helped me to let go of any remaining childhood ideas that parents are supposed to be all knowing, responsible and mature people. They are just as scared about life as most people (regardless of age).

[Visitor]

During an abuse, I would count the strokes. This gave me an indication of when it will more than likely stop. But one time the count kept going. About the 30 count all pain left the body. I looked into my fathers eyes at the stroke of 34, and he looked into mine. He stopped. and ran into his bedroom. I went into my bedroom to lay on the bed, but I soon found out that I could only lay on my stomach....

Forty years later I decided to revisit that episode via a quick pen sketch. I discovered three valuable things from this.

1. My father at the time had surely lost the plot. He was insane with rage. I never thought my parents were subject to losing the plot. In retrospect of my own history, I could also relate to losing the plot. It was this relating that helped me to forgive his insane behaviour.
2. During the abuse, when his eyes met mine he could see his own truth. Seeing his own truth snapped him out of his insanity. That is why he stopped beating me. I faced the fear and it ran away. 
3. Furthermore, when my endorphins took over the pain I realized that I was still okay. In other words, it is only my body that experiences pain. It is pain that tells me I have a body. But without the pain I am not the body, but something else.

My mother did not interfere during the abuse, or any other abuse. She also witnessed the insanity of it all. Yet was willing to allow it to happen again and again. Was she that fearful of my father, or was there something else? I still have no answer to that and most probably will never know. So be it.

 

[Visitor]

Now for something completely different. 

In 1988 I got sober and clean. I had previously stayed sober for two years but then relapsed again. At the time of starting this painting I was on my second second year of recovery. I was afraid of an other relapse due to some negative thoughts of being jinxed or something like that. I decided to do a painting which would help me to be more determined to stay sober. It was a painting to find what sobriety meant to me. So it became a very symbolic painting. It took a month to paint. It is has helped to crystallize the importance of what alcoholism and sobriety is. I have been clean and sober since and I like to think that be doing this painting has helped me to stay sober. 

[Visitor]

Here is a painting I like very much. To me it is absolutely still and quiet. I often look at it to become grounded again.

It was originally an exercise to see what I would paint for the new found feeling of serenity. At the time I had an AA mentor, named Frank, who was quite spiritual by nature. It was he who introduced me to contemplative type meditation to find me inner peace. When I finished the painting I stood back to contemplate on it. I found it to be quite frank. I laughed to myself about that and decided to title it Point Frank. Later I renamed it Serenity.

[Visitor]

Seven years ago I went to Austria to compete in the Worlds Masters Road Cycling Championships. They have this event at St Johann in Tirol every year. There I came of my bike and hit the road head-on. As far as I recall I was alone at the time. My carbon fibre bike broke into four pieces. I was knocked out for 40 minutes before paramedics flew in to revive me. I lost a lot of blood from my chin. A blood clot the size and thickness of my hand was next to face where I lay. I was flown to St Johann's hospital and received eleven stitches to my chin. Two days later I was allowed to leave the hospital.

Despite all this I was in good spirits. Here I am back in the holiday cabin.

I was very curious to find out what caused me to hit the deck. All I can remember is my head suddenly moving forward and down a short distance, then waking up with the paramedics. Nobody could fill in the gap. After I got home to Australia (the next day) I started convalescence, because I had slight brain damage for the next six months. I would lose my balance when walking and was very slow in responding to questions (which was a blessing in a way [most questions are not worth answering]).

During convalescence I started another art therapy project. This one was a vane attempt to recall anything about the incident. This time I needed to have plenty of time to do and think this artwork through. I used the blooded jersey and gloves, and broken sunglasses for the collage. The rest were other bits around the house to represent the incident. It's a large piece 51 x 49 inches (1.3 x 1 m).

The beam from above to my helmet represents divine intervention.

Result? Absolutely nothing. When you are unconscious you are unconscious. If I was dying I would not have known about it.

Sometimes we have things happening to us which simply cannot be explained, and this is one of them. And it took me over a year to accept that. I think it is because I had a large investment in completing the event. I trained for many years. It seemed such a loss at the time. But I still love riding and have very fond memories of being of such peak performance and fitness.

Hopefully I won't have a need for any further art therapy exercises. Today I am retired and wanting to rediscover the creativity I had a a young lad... and it is starting to feel as if I am doing what I was meant to do - create.

[stevegan928]

love the sketches, they seem to show a lot of emotion behind them. interesting to read about your unfortunate childhood events juxtaposed with them. you seem to have digested those negative experiences well over time though, that's comforting to see. 

i also really liked your paintings, especially Sobriety. 

keep up the good work man you're meant to create. 

[Visitor]

@stevegan928 Thank you.

[Epiphany_Inspired]

@Visitor Yes, those are awesome! Totally, keep it up! I think art can definitely be used for self-healing in this way, wonderful!

The concern I have...What I meant by using art-therapy to psycho-analyze...it actually happened to me, and I know many doctors do actually use it that way... so, use caution. When I was a teenager we had some schizophrenic friends (most now dead/ suicides) and my boyfriend saw some similarities with me...all eccentric artists. He wanted me to go to a psychologist to check. Of course, I passed her tests, not bi-polar/ or schizophrenic, but one thing did really concern her. She asked me to do some "art-therapy" and had me draw a self portrait...she didn't care that I warped my face, almost as if it was melting, for fun, but she was really concerned that I had drawn a large black "ominous" top hat on my head. It took me about half an hour to explain that I really did own a hat like that, often wore it, and why I liked it. She assumed it was a symbol of severe depression! This happened to me in art school too, teachers that want to inflict their meaning on to my art....so, I just wanted to warn others to do this independently, or with someone supportive...not as a way for doctors to project their random shit onto you...

Your story, and how your mom was not involved has given me some personal insight...my mom would actually try to stop/ getting hurt herself instead...if she was home...although having no involvement would have been worse...it was really hard to bare/ felt guilt, etc...  she worked full-time plus had multiple activities. so, in essence, it's similar to what you experienced too...I had not seen that side of it until your post, so thanks...

[Visitor]

On 5/10/2017 at 10:16 PM, Visitor said:

Little-me.

I was about seven when I first experienced conscious insignificance. It was during a hiding. I was on the floor in front of a lounge chair. I felt myself shrinking into the carpet. No matter how small I felt, or how much my self diminished, I was still there, somewhere deep in the carpet.

For many years, whenever my ego was under severe threat, I would relive the diminishing.

No matter how insignificant I may feel, the little-me that cannot be invalidated is my original innocent self. It is that little part of me that remains pure and true. I can always rely on it to be there. It is untouchable, safe, and the source of my love.

I found this GIF yesterday which illustrates the diminishing feeling very well.

Edited June 17, 2017 by Visitor