Imagination and Empathy in the Art Therapist

I use my whole person as an instrument of healing in the therapeutic relationship. I think this is why what I do works most of the time: therapy is in its essence a healing relationship. If I wasn't deeply moved by my clients' stories, if I didn't try my damnedest to enter their worlds, I wouldn't be able to help them find their particular path to healing. The other side of the coin is that I can pay at times for entering very painful and charged territory. It may drain my energy reserves or inspire despair within my own nervous system. I may feel heartbroken for a client.

This all exists on a very fine line. That line is a meandering set of personal boundaries that each therapist creates for themselves. As a therapist trained by and for refugees, I feel that the worlds of people from many different countries and cultures and experiences require a fuller entry by the western therapist to understand them. It takes greater imagination to enter a refugee's world, and it is through imagination that most therapists come to understand and align with a client's inner and outer worlds.

This post is about the effects of deeply entering a client's world as both a therapist and an artist, of the use and effects of imagination as an empathic tool. It is also about using imagination to cope with and process a client's traumatic material when it knocks us over.

Drawing by the author

Many art therapists are visual thinkers. We started out as artists and realized art was an ideal vehicle for traveling the rough roads to emotional healing. Thusly, we can visualize in great detail the stories people tell us. We can often place ourselves, for better or for worse, right in the middle of our clients' stories. We not only imagine the situation, but we imagine how it would feel if it were happening to us. We may even imagine how other actors in that event were feeling. This is hugely helpful in being able to reflect and validate our clients' feelings in regards to important or traumatic experiences. It is also, however, an easy way to end up with secondary traumatic stress when working with traumatized populations.

How else can we use our imagination to understand our clients' past and current experiences with more boundaries? A mentor of mine taught me to imagine an intense or traumatic event standing near my client or as a person holding a camera rather than as a participant. I have used this technique for several years now and I find it very effective: I can still feel the potential effects and the power of a traumatic situation without putting myself through an imaginary trauma as a victim. It is still very potent but it does not strike into the heart of me. I have noticed that when a trauma is particularly horrific - such as certain war crimes or ritual abuse - my mind automatically pulls back the focus of the camera to be a little further away from the event. Maybe instead of standing next to my client I am standing by the sidelines.

I may also intentionally wreath the "camera frame" of my visualization in a colored light like yellow, green or purple to instill a healing energy into the event as I am experiencing it for the first time. This serves several purposes. It makes clear to me my role in imagining this event: I am not victim or perpetrator or enabler or hero, I am there to help an actor in the event heal from it. It creates a gentle boundary in my mind, providing that much more distance while simultaneously instilling compassion and hope into the situation. I find that when I do this I am more hopeful that my client can recover from even the worst experiences.

There are still times, however, when I am not prepared for a certain trauma story or my boundaries are not as tight as they normally are. When I was pregnant I found that I was so much more sensitive to client stories and had a harder time keeping those boundaries in my mind. During these times I may be nearly struck down by a certain story and find it replaying in my head for several days. If I'm tending to my own needs well, I start to use the techniques described above even after the fact to establish boundaries in the imagination. I may pull back the visuals even further so I am gradually seeing the scene from a greater distance. Then I focus more of my attention on envisioning ways for my client to become whole again. I may also use mindfulness techniques to redirect my thoughts away from the imagined event. If a client's trauma story is really sticking and upsetting me, I will seek supervision to work through it with support.

When I do need to process a trauma story more deeply, I often use art to help me. I will journal, draw, or paint not the story itself but the effects the story has on me. I ask myself why this particular story is affecting me more than others. Does my own history play a part here? Do I have countertransference to look at with this client? Is this story challenging a core view I hold about humanity? I have had to expand my conceived range of human potential many times as a therapist, making progressively more space for the depths to which human behavior can (and does) sink. I consider one of more of these questions and I simply let myself draw or paint as I do so, working it out on paper.

I noticed when working with preteen girls that a lot of them (from any country anywhere) tend to draw flowers. I would do this with them, mirroring their activity. This is actually a brilliant thing to do for both client and therapist while talking about a trauma: you're partially focused on creating beauty while talking about pain. Drawing flowers is generally a soothing activity, so both you and the client are tapping into a resource while looking at a trauma. Landscapes, patterns, or mandalas can work just as well: I found some boys preferred patterns or landscapes.


A client's drawing made in session


Imagination is a key empathic tool for many people in the mental health professions. For art therapists, using this tool mindfully and with art making is incredibly helpful for both client and healer.








Comments