Teachers in semi-audible sounds

 

I recently finished up an internship at an adult day program. This is where folks who have extreme disabilities can go during the week to socialize, get stimulated with different activities and work. Some adults have a developmental age of as low as 4, some are confined to a wheelchair, twisted up by cerebral palsy. Some are blind and can't speak, some can only squeal. I had never been exposed to such a population in all of my 53 years. I have to admit it was a shock at first.

The first part of my internship was working people with cerebral palsy. All men from ages 30 to 70, they are there during the week to socialize, but more importantly to be freed from the prison that has contained them all their lives. This department, led by a very enthusiastic and creative woman, endeavors to give them ways to communicate and express themselves. Sharp minds, but with bodies that don’t cooperate, my first experience was to become an instrument for Dave. He has an artist’s eye and has created paintings through other individuals using A.R.T. (Artistic Realization Method). Designed by a visiting artist, Tim Lefens, years earlier, it is a way for a person to express themselves in an artistic way. The “instrument” or in this case me, must set aside all preconceived ideas, all judgments about color and composition, and be a blank intuitive receptor to the artist. The artist, may if possible verbally direct their “instrument” or can use a laser to point to what color, where to put a line, whether the curve of a line is the right shape, etc. It is a very slow process that requires a lot of intuition, patience and an ability to connect to the person who has very little to communicate with. This could be done with photography, graphics or paint and using traditional methods or computer technology.

Dave could verbally communicate, but he was difficult to understand. (think Christie Brown in “My Left Foot”) So thankfully, we were moved to a quieter room and in no time, we were communicating. Dave has an artist's eye and a love of Broadway, so we were going to be painting Zazu, from the Lion King musical. His future intent was to create a narrative to reenact the musical for the rest of the group who had never seen it. We worked from a photograph in the program as a reference. In another post I will share the entire process with photos of his works. But for now I will share my emotional response. With any connection there is mutual exchange. Nine times out of ten when you place yourself in a situation where you think of the people as “less-than” and you are there to facilitate change, you are the one who is changed. And I certainly have been changed. Being with folks whose every day existence is a challenge, and they are completely vulnerable and dependent on others, makes you grateful for things you take for granted to be sure. But there is a deeper response that transpires. A surrender to self and all preconceived ideas and drives. If you are to be someone's instrument, and be a good one, you must do this. Every curve every line every shape must be that person's, not your own.

I saw the Lion King musical so Dave and I had an instant connection. When you give yourself over to the process, you would be surprised how quickly you adapt, and there is a kind of rhythm that happens. Once you blend a certain way, you can say, “like this?” and you build on that. However what is extraordinary are the surprises. Like any of us, our mind is on many things. For Dave it takes extreme concentration to form a sound to get a word out. I would find that what he was saying was not a direction toward the painting, sometimes it was a joke. Or sometimes it was something about his life.

There was a point in the painting where we worked on a tool, so that he could paint part of it himself. He said, “I don't want it to look ridiculous”. Understanding his own limitations, I assured him it wouldn't. I am so grateful for having the opportunity to get to know Dave, and I hope (after releases are signed) to be able to share his artwork with you!

My next experience was in another department, under the tutelage of the Fine Arts Coordinator. His job was to create adaptive tools and devise ways to create sellable works of art. The Adult Day Program is structured in modules, one of which is “work”. A way for the clients to earn a paycheck. Higher functioning clients are in the workshop; an assembly line type atmosphere packing jelly or stuffing cotton in gift boxes. Others do similar things in a module, not all day. Still others create art to be put up for sale in the spring art show. That is one of the Fine Arts Coordinator's (FAC) jobs. Sometimes a client will draw something that is encouraged to be painted. So the FAC projects that on a canvas for the client to trace and then to paint. Sounds pretty straight forward right? Not so. Most of these folks are highly temperamental, many with dual diagnosis or short attention spans. If we could keep them engaged for 45 minutes to an hour, that was a real accomplishment. Others in wheelchairs, the A.R.T. Technique was used, but often had to be simplified, like cutting out shapes and having them point with a laser to what shape to use and what color. It's all about giving them choices, and keeping them from becoming “institutionalized”. A good percentage of their lives are determined by their caregivers and facilitators. The art department gives them freedom to make decisions and control their world. I was able to work with the same individuals during the course of the rest of my stay. It was wonderful to have them look forward to our activities. Each person was intriguing in their own way, but one in particular stole my heart. She ran up and gave me a hug the first day. I was determined to work with her, but I only got her to participate once. She was contented to watch when the two other ladies that I worked with did their activities. The longer I allowed her to just be an observer, the more she would seek me out and make a gesture about my shoes or how cold it was outside. Then she started pointing out colors and giving sign language for the first letter in the color name while saying it. I would praise her for getting it right, and she did get it right most of the time. She then would sign the first letter to people's name. By the end I asked her the first letter of each of 3 names and pointed out that together it spelled C-A-T. Did I practice art therapy with her? Not directly. But this is a by product of the action. Though she did not participate in the art itself, it became a topic of conversation, as to whether I would do it that day, and gave her reason to spend time with myself and the other two participants. Talk therapy, or good old fashioned conversation, establishing camaraderie and trust is a big part of any therapeutic relationship. As for the art that the others did, each was differently skilled. One was very orderly and relatively adept at the motor functions I was asking her to do. The other one may not have always understood what I was saying, but had a definite aesthetic sense. None of these individuals spoke very much, and when I tried to have a conversation with them, it had to be brief simple questions. However, what we shared in that 45-60 minutes I believe gave them a sanctuary of freedom to express themselves the way they wished. I, on the other hand got something greater, which is once again, love is the beacon by which we can navigate and communicate through any presumed divide.

Internal Household of the Mind:An Art Therapy Directive

If you missed it earlier, I’ve returned to school to get an Art Therapy Degree.(Mercyhurst University, Professor Robert Tavani originated this directive). Sometimes I feel crazy going back to school to get , yes, my first degree. I will have to go on to get a Master’s degree to be licensed. To go into such debt at this stage of the game seems, illogical from some angles, but if I don’t do it now --when? One of the assignments was to do an “internal household of the mind” We had to do at least 4 rooms, one being the “art therapy room”, one being the “unconscious room”. We were to represent people with objects, mine beingrepresented by milkweed pods, a walnut, a shell, and an acorn.

First let me say that I dislike working with cardboard, but considering I used worn sand blasted items found at Presque Isle on Lake Erie, the whitewash on cardboard-- fit. Secondly, let me say I was wishing I had the dexterity of an 18 year old (like most of my fellow students) when it came to constructing the hammock with the shell in it and working in tiny spaces.

By doing directives, that we as future art therapists may give as an exploratory assignment to a client, we have first hand experience in the complexity of the project and what emotionsmay surface because of it. The directive can be modified and simplified to fit the needs of the client. The following photos are my internal household.

            The inspiration for my house came while taking a stroll at Presque Isle. I’ve always been happiest when I am near water. I enjoy beach combing, especially, at the beginning of the season before the park machines move away all the debris, and there is a plethora of driftwood and other beach treasures. I chose to make my house a triangle shape, all sides equal, because it has long been a symbol for me. It represents the sacred trinity, and it is half of the star of David. It points upward toward the higher realms, and the triangle configured in different ways creates many other shapes.

            I chose to make the art therapy room on the bottom floor. I represented the people in that room with milkweed pods. I chose to show a sand mandala, because of its meditative quality. I show the end of the process where the mandala is wiped away. This is a great exercise I would think, in detachment. I am too attached to my artworks, and I would like to be that free from the creations I make, by being able to “let go” of it at the end. I made a ladder in a spiral DNA-like shape that connects all the rooms. The spiral is another sacred shape and a recurring theme in my work. You can see it in nature as the foundation of architecture in shells, pine cones, and sunflowers to name a few.

            Interestingly, I chose to put the unconscious at the top. If the unconscious and the subconscious are the same, each of the words brings a different image to me.  In the past, when I have done Gestalt work on my dreams I would find my subconscious in the basement. Maybe because of the prefix “sub” that means under. But today, the unconscious is on the top and in a way, more easily accessible. I depicted this room to be small, but also a triangle because the unconscious is connected to the collective unconscious which is connected to the creator. Inside I dangled sequins to show sparks of light or insight into the unconscious. The whole room is covered in purple sand, giving it a velvety feel.

It is surrounded by milkweed seeds because they’re visually fragile and ethereal, but also they are seeds, which represent insight as in a “seed of an idea or thought”. What does this say about me?  The unconscious, though still a mystery in many ways, is accessible and more strongly connected to my conscious mind than it has been before.

            The next room is the intellectual room. You can climb the stairs to get there or go up the DNA ladder. The person there is the walnut. With all its crevices, it made a nice brain representation. This area is bigger too, than the other two rooms, because the intellect is one that is used and accepted in our society and world as the foundation for interaction, education and civilization. It’s what separates us from the animals, or so it is commonly thought. To the left is a hammock, with a person represented as a shell. This is the rest area. Again the spiral symbolism takes shape in the shell and the decor on the back wall. The next room is small and not as dark, but only able to enter through the DNA ladder. This is the contemplation room and the person is represented as a nut with a cross on it.

                Arrangement of characters: I arranged three of the characters in the art therapy room, because there is usually at least two, the client and the counselor. The third one can represent either group therapy or observation of therapy. There is only one in the intellectual, contemplative, and sleep areas because I sleep alone, I read alone and I pray alone. These things you can do in your mind and your body is still involved to a certain degree. There are no people in the unconscious room, because I see that purely as a spiritual, intuitive connection that doesn’t involve the body.

                What the unconscious room says about me: The triangle once again is mimicked in the posture of a meditative pose. Sitting cross-legged with arms relaxed our bodies are in a triangle. Though it may look enclosed it represents to me a wide-open place with many possibilities. It is also very private and individual at first, and at the same time, all-inclusive.

 One recalls Marwencol when thinking of this experience in a therapeutic way. “Playing house” is a natural imaginative game for children. Certainly for girls and there are many toys to encourage this imaginary game. Building a house and using one’s own symbols as character representations is an exemplary exploratory project. Historically as an art project, miniature architecture and towns are used in professional depictions to communicate a vision of a commercial building, home or subdivision.  Hobbyists enjoy making miniature environments when playing with miniature railroads and surrounding neighborhoods, or making their dream house with miniature furniture and accessories.

             Therapeutically this project can reveal much to the client and counselor. It can show how one interacts with others, how one knows oneself, how parts of the  conscious and unconscious are connected, and the structure of the id or ego in the construction of the house. This project also demands a great deal of decision making and physical dexterity. I could see that this project would be much too complex for many people—namely geriatrics, people with mental retardation, or limited motor skills, and  to children. It may help adults with bipolar, schizophrenia, or any displacement or severe mental disorder, to see how the client compartmentalizes or connects events or parts of themselves. One may simplify the project for clients, by supplying a pre-made box, or limiting the project to one room. For children and geriatrics, other elements would be provided, and the counselor could do the project with the client. For instance, ask the client what object would represent a family member, friend or someone else in their life. Then ask where they would place the object and what other “people” are in the house. Another way to simplify the project is by drawing the house and its components. If the project needed to be even more simplistic, for mentally challenged individuals or really small children, the house could be pre-drawn. Still another way to do it is to have pre-drawn household elements like shapes for rooms, with different objects that could represent décor in the room or people. The client could then put together the elements like a puzzle or blocks.

Over all I am enjoying the process of learning about art therapy, I wish I could do it everyday and get my degree a lot quicker. I hope you have enjoyed a little peak into art therapy.

TO SEE MORE OF ANNE CUTRI'S WORK CLICK HERE

Art Therapy Directive: Self Mask

 

 

 

Mask making is a very primal artistic expression. Masks have been made by tribes for ceremony and ritual. There is symbolism with masks that represent the “masks” we wear every day. The person we show to the outside world can be very different to what is going on internally. This process could be seen in its highest form as a burial of an old self and resurrection of the new self. It is an intense project and not for the faint at heart. Especially for those who have been wearing a certain mask for a long time as Hinz and Ragsdell (1990) found in their study with bulimic women. However, if I were to convince an administration that a certain group of creative intelligent, strong individuals where in a stage of their therapeutic process and were able to handle this AT directive I would propose the following:

1. Mask making has the potential to help the client move from an old persona to a new one. Masks can reveal or conceal. They can protect from the outside or reveal a new identity. They can help a client try on a “new face” with peers to “test the waters” before showing this new vulnerability to the world. Masks can be a terrific fantasy expression in bringing the subconscious to the surface. It can also be celebratory, in a ritual of achievement or initiation.

2 I propose mask making group therapy over several sessions. Group therapy offsets the cost of buying bandages in bulk. It justifies the set-up and clean-up and setting aside a relatively large room with a sink nearby to be reserved for this occasion. For approximately $150.00 which includes, large bottles of paint, a variety of brushes and a box of bandages, this project could help 10 or more individuals in a therapeutic setting.

3. Not only would a group setting be more cost effective it would add to role playing and other creative expression once the masks were made.

 

The mask above was made with plaster bandages (used to make casts for broken bones) applied directly to my face. We paired up in class, and after putting plastic around the eyes and covering my face with vaseline, the wet bandages were applied. I recalled being in art school years ago and after George Segal, created a sculpture by dividing into groups and applying the bandages to a portion of the volunteer's body.

 

George Segal "Street Crossing" 1992

 

It is quite a different experience when you are the one the bandages are being applied to and slowly your eyes and mouth are being covered as this plaster begins to harden.

 

The process was very unnerving both as the recpient and the applicator. The directive: (Mercyhurst Universtiy, Professor Robert Tavani)  After the mask was dry,  sand and paint as realistically as possible and add one thing, either by paint or collage, to show something about yourself that others may not know. 

 

 

My mask represents two sides of me. When a person views my mask they would see one eye closed and one eye opened. They may not see that right away as half of the face is covered with red netting. I tried to make the mask relatively realistic, though the medium doesn’t lend itself to that, because of the coarseness of the plaster bandage. As much as I sanded it and tried to fill in the crevices with paint the face appears pock marked as if I had bad acne as a teen. Nonetheless, the mask gives a sort of serious, solemn demeanor. I debated whether to let my whimsical side come through, but I decided to try to be as honest as possible.

The red netting represents the bondage I have felt from others in my past however, the peacock feather placed outside the netting represents my intuition, my spiritual side that has been my strength. The eye closed behind the mask, represents not only that bondage, but also looking within, which that bondage forced me to do. The two sides also represent past and future. The uncovered side looks out to the future with hope and promise.

I was very uncomfortable both applying the mask to my partner and having the mask applied. Before we started I was very apprehensive. I was worried that I wasn’t going fast enough for my partner and I worried for her internal processing. Though my partner didn’t exhibit any discomfort, in fact, communicated in writing that she was fine and encouraged me, I

was still uncomfortable. I didn’t like getting her all messy. I didn’t like being responsible for her mask, in fact, I feel I did a terrible job for her because I rushed and was nervous. In a way, I manifested my fear, I was worried about doing a bad job and I did, and probably made more of a mess for her. (In the end, her mask looked great and was able to sand it into submission) I am not used to working with someone else in my artwork. I have always been uncomfortable creating in a crowd or group. If someone asked me to demonstrate at an art fair, the only way I would do it is I had an almost complete piece and did the final touches. Interestingly, as a private art teacher demonstrating, I don’t have that apprehension at all.

On the receiving end of the mask making, it was hard to trust someone I barely know, to cover my face in a hardening medium. I have taken a mud bath in Calestoga, CA. and remember having to get over the whole "being buried in alive" reaction. Stepping into a vat of heavy warm mud and then having it applied to your face and shoulders was quite an experience.  Because this was new, in a classroom setting, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel once I had my eyes and mouth covered. I have worked with plaster before, and I remembered it got hot, so I expected to feel a suffocating feeling. The plaster felt cool, and I knew I could take the mask off at any time if I had to. I did ask my partner through writing to please hurry, I didn’t care if it was sloppy, and I just wanted to get done. As a much older student, I’m already a bit insecure about my age and the way I look as I grow older. Though I see most of my fellow students as my daughters--as a woman I didn’t like being that vulnerable covered in Vaseline and without makeup.When I admitted that to myself , I chastised myself immediately for being so superficial.  I feel pretty certain, if I were in my twenties it wouldn’t be as bad, because then, I was free spirited and liked challenges. I may have even seen it like a spa as some of the other students may have. Now life has knocked me down so much, I’m a little uneasy on my feet, and find I am much more sensitive.  The experience almost felt medical, it reminded me of all the things that a friend of mine had gone through. It was hard enough imagining him in a full body cast, now I had a bit of an experience in a facial cast and frankly, I don’t know how he did it.

As much as the mask as a symbol seems like an obvious metaphor, the process was what made this experience  revealing.

 To read more about Mask-Making including a brief history:

References

Dunn-Snow PhD, ATR-BC, Peggy and & Susan Joy-Smellie BA, CCLS (2000): Teaching Art Therapy Techniques: Mask-making, A Case in Point, Art Therapy: Journal of the American Art Therapy Association, 17:2, 125-131

From Ink Blots to a Metaphorical Narrative-Art Therapy Directive

Creating art has the ability to reach the very depths of the brain  where early development occurs. Children who have endured trauma often have memories stored there which cannot easily be expressed. The following directive has two parts.  The "squiggle game" which was based on a traditional game for children in England, for which Winnicott introduced into the therapeutic realm. Quoting from Malchoidi's textbook:

 "Based on his concept of the maturation process, Winnicot(1965) explained that infants go through a developmental stage in which they perceive that they create the objects around them and believe that they are undifferentiated from these objects. Winnicott emphasized the necessity for the "adult" therapist to embrace and provide a holding environment for the "infant" or developmentally arrested child's idea about creation.This process, in due course, helps the client to undergo proper separartion from the objects in his or her world and gain objectivity about the outside world (Winnicott, 1989a,1989c)."
Tanaka  developed the squiggle drawing technique by seeing the potential of narrative interaction. Based on the traditional kamishibai, the traditional Japanese art of picture card show or four- frame cartoons, he encouraged his clients to creat a story from the squiggles. He also developed the techniques of the "Egg Drawing" and the "Cave Drawing" which are rich in symbolic expression to encourage storytelling.
This art therapy directive was based on these innovators. The assignment was first to draw "squiggles" in ink washes. From the ink washes write a story and illustrate it in a five-frame visual narrative. When writing the narrative we were to utilize metaphor, and imagine we would be using it with a child who was experiencing depression or PTSD.
Here are the ink washes I started with:

 

 

 

 

 

 

I chose to approach my story for a child with PTSD. Here it is:

 

 

Once a upon a time there was a bird named Andre. He was of an age where it was time to leave the nest and learn how to fly. Andre couldn’t bear the thought of trying again. You see, he wasn’t always afraid. He has always been good at everything, with little effort. So he thought flying would be a cinch. However the first time he tried he stumbled , crashing into the nearest branch. All of his friends were watching and started laughing and making fun of him. He was too dizzy from the crash to respond, except to slowly climb his way back up into the nest. He hasn’t left since.

 

 

Sometimes Andre felt lonely. Sometimes all he could think of was that fateful day. His stomach tied up in knots as he replayed his first flight attempt and the laughter of his peers echoed in his mind. Outside the nest seemed like a very scary place. Sometimes even inside the nest was overwhelming, because every time he thought of leaving he got very nervous. His mother began to tell him of other birds who were mighty and fierce and who had become heroes. It was then she told him the meaning of his name. Andre means brave. He began to consider that if his name meant being brave surely somewhere inside of him was bravery.

 

 

Andre’s mother told him stories of birds that rescued princesses, of the Firebird whose feathers were illuminated and dropped pearls from his beak to the poor people so they could buy food. His favorite story was about the Phoenix. This magical creature lived to be 500 years old where he would then renew his strength, by setting a magical renewing fire to his nest and himself. This magical fire would clear out all the bad things that happened in the last 500 years and so the Phoenix could begin again. Andre imagined what he would burn up in his own fire.

 

 

He drew a picture of the other birds that laughed at him. He drew a picture of himself crashing. He drew a picture of his mother crying and any other things he could think of that were not happy. He drew himself with tears. Then just like the Phoenix, he drew fire over everything so that he could make it disappear in his mind. He found that he made a lot of these drawings over many weeks. And then one day it seemed he had a new strength. He began to feel the bravery that was in his name. He began to think that he might be able to be a hero like other birds in the stories his mother told him. He knew he would probably have to get out of the nest to see if he could help others.

 

 

 

Suddenly he heard cry near a neighboring nest. It was little Sophia! She was in trouble! She was stuck in a branch and there was a cat nearby. Andre gathered up his feathers, took a deep breath, and was perched on the edge of the nest. Then he heard her again. “Help!” Sophia cried. Without hesitation, Andre flew toward the cries. As if he had been flying forever, he swooped in and scooped up Sophia and delivered her safely to her nest. Every one cheered. “Andre saved her! He is a Hero!!. Andre landed gracefully and proudly back in his nest. Standing at the edge, he smiled, knowing he had become his name.

 

I chose to do a narrative about PTSD because I have personal experience with it. I have known people who have gone to war and returned. I also know a child who may also be dealing with PTSD. Recurrent thoughts whether consciously or subconsciously encircle the mind of the character, Andre, like a snare. The nest imagery is represented both as a safe haven and a place of stagnation. The prickled edges of the nest with red around it in the first scene illustrates that. I made the shape of the bird in a slumped position and chose the zig-zagged, dripping pattern to make his body, as it reflected his inner turmoil. The blue color added the feeling of depression. When my daughter saw the first collage, she remarked “Eew that is depressing!” I knew I was one the right track.

In the next scene Andre is standing up straight in a peach tone and his mother is animated, speaking of the meaning of his name and other bird stories. I purposely chose a name that meant bravery. The third scene represents how Andre is imagining the other birds and the bird shape has fully spread wings in golds and oranges. Each scene progressively suggests recovery from the trauma by re-framing the events to be positive. By the fourth scene, I bring in the concept of fire, one of simultaneous destruction and renewal. By virtually fighting fire with fire, the story suggests that Andre has the power to change his situation.

In the final scene, Andre has imagined himself to be so much stronger and brave and manifests his projection by saving a young bird from the claws of a cat. Once again I used the metaphor of flight not in the traditional way as it represents fleeing from something, but in this case flying toward his destiny, which is his name. The child would be able to identify with this story on many levels. By ushering a child through a story of turning around helplessness to a place of power, using animals that are not traditional thought of as strong, (as compared to a lion) could encourage that child to think beyond the framework that held him down and be able to visualize a more promising future and outcome.

The Labyrinth in an Art Therapeutic Relationship

Labyrinth at Lookout Point B&B in Hot Springs, AR        

        The University I attend is on a trimester calendar. I haven’t been able to write much about my latest Art Therapy discoveries, because the fall semester was dedicated to fieldwork. I was able to implement directives with a variety of individuals including pediatric mental illness, and older patients with medical conditions, with whom art therapy could provide a beneficial experience. I cannot share my experiences here, for obvious privacy issues, but I will share a discovery upon writing a paper on the termination process. Closure to a therapeutic relationship is part of the process, and one that can help a person, move on to the next level of growth. In reading about the reality of not always being able to have a neat, step-by-step therapeutic process because of the inevitable life events that may get in the way... I offer a remedy here. Mind you it is theoretical and possibly over simplistic, which I will find out once I’m able to engage in the process professionally.

Abstract

Examining the fingerprint as a personal labyrinth, an abstract expression of the blueprint of who we are, this paper suggests that closure isn’t a final termination, because we take with us the fingerprints of others. The people we touch and in turn touch our lives, effects the future fingerprints we leave behind. This cycle of life symbolized by the labyrinth, suggests an art therapy directive to open and close the client/therapist relationship, described here.

          In approaching the concept of closure, I thought about how we touch each others lives and about leaving each others lives. I thought about literal touch and how we leave fingerprints on one another. Perhaps it was the Steven Curtis Chapman song, that refrains; “We are the fingerprints of God”, that got me thinking about it (Chapman, Web). But I’ve always liked the idea of using fingerprints in art, and now I had my chance. When I completed the fingerprint art, made of my actual fingerprint that was enlarged and then covered with sand, I thought of a labyrinth. When I looked up labyrinth, it turns out I had a wrong assumption, as I suspect many others do. It is quite different than a maze. Though I intuitively knew the fingerprint had a meditative quality, it wasn’t confirmed until I research labyrinths. Helen Curry in her book, “Way of the Labyrinth: A Powerful Meditation for Everyday Life” (2000), makes the distinction between a maze and a labyrinth. Mazes are multicursal, there are many ways out of it, many detours and it is generally thought of as a mental challenge, almost stressful. Mazes can make you disoriented, you could lose your way, and you could be on the same path over and over again (Curry p.27). Labyrinths are unicursal, meaning a single course or path. Once you get on a labyrinth, you need only follow the path, with no dead ends or choices to make. Follow the path and you will arrive at the center (Curry p. 37).

      What strikes me about the labyrinth in terms of closure is two-fold. First, the circular movement is symbolic in many cultural traditions: “The labyrinth is part of the canon of archetypal symbolic circles of meaning—including wholeness, unity and the divine center” (Curry, p.38). This reminded me of the recent circle at the Parkinson’s partnership, where we held hands, and sent energy around the circle through squeezing hands. I was struck by such a simple unifying act, and saw the labyrinth as an art directive, that could have a similar outcome. Secondly, Labyrinths have also been symbolic of the cycle of life (Curry, p. 47), birth and rebirth (Curry, p. 48).The back and forth meditative movement that is experienced within the labyrinth symbolizes a journey. It represents a difficult yet attainable inner journey toward the center (Curry, p. 50). The termination process between client and therapist is not always something that can be accomplished. Whether the client leaves because they are not ready for the termination process and therefore skips the last session, or other unexpected changes that interrupt closure, inhibits proper completion (Schroeder, p.83). Often we don’t think about termination and the necessity to have closure with certain relationships. I really don’t feel a need, in terms of Art Therapy I-III, because I don’t see anything coming to an end but another stop along my personal journey. Still, I recognize that not everyone thinks that way. Keeping in mind a client/therapist relationship and the possibility of not being able to have formal closure, I thought of a directive that one could do at the beginning of the relationship. What if I developed an art therapy directive that includes the making of a finger labyrinth, that I would introduce at the beginning and suggest it being used all the way through the process? What if during that first session I suggest that our relationship will come to an end eventually, but I’m giving them a tool they can use as a reminder of their own journey and the circular nature of it? They could then use it again when our relationship ended, whether I am there or not. The labyrinth seems like a perfect candidate for such a directive.

         A traditional labyrinth is constructed out of varied materials and large enough to walk through. Finger labyrinths are created on a smaller scale and can offer meditative qualities as well. You can literally let your fingers do the walking. The right hand and left hand labyrinth (artworks that accompany my fingerprint) are designed for one to trace one’s finger along the path toward the center (Curry, p.122). It is suggested that by doing the right and left hand finger labyrinth simultaneously, one can balance their corresponding brain hemispheres (Curry, p. 130).

As an art therapy directive, a finger labyrinth drawing can be pre-made and copied to allow for varied client abilities. In the case of my labyrinth, I copied the one in Curry’s book (p. 125), enlarged and elongated it to make it more resemble a fingerprint. This could then be colored, painted or embellished anyway the client wished. Given my own experience not only in fieldwork, but also taking my daughter to counseling, the relationship can be very fleeting. Schedules get in the way and consistency is hard to maintain, and time may be limited.

Given our three fieldwork experiences, sharing artwork at Millcreek was closure for the children there. At BAEP, we shared artwork, and they made something they could keep with them within the facility. But the director at BAEP, took it one step further and had his students write thank-you letters. Introducing gratitude offers a chance for deeper meaning, which has longer lasting effects. So to, the labyrinth may have that potential. For Esther, a participant at Parkinson’s Project, closure was difficult. She said she was sad to see us go. She dealt with it by taking a photo of us, and then she could revisit the experience whenever she wanted to.

 I like the idea of giving a client a tool to use at our first meeting, as if I may never see them again. Change in relationship is inevitable, whether you call it closure or termination, the fact still remains. But given the knowledge of this, introducing a directive such as the labyrinth has a potential to make the impact less severe or barely noticeable.

References

Chapman, S. C. (2008, April 21). "Fingerprints of God" Steven Curtis Chapman - YouTube. YouTube. Retrieved November 4, 2012, from http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2gvf8ZRdO-o

Curry, H. (2000). The way of the Labyrinth a powerful    meditation  for everyday life.(pp.27-130) New York: Penguin    Compass.

Schroder, D. (2005). Thoughts on Trauma. Little windows into art therapy small openings for beginning therapists (p. 83). Philadelphia, PA: Jessica Kingsley.


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