1. UNSPOKEN EXPRESSIONS
Traditional therapy often relies on a talk-based approach. While some clients are naturally expressive and articulate their emotions with ease, others struggle—sometimes out of fear, sometimes out of deep-seated hesitation. They may not yet have the words to describe their pain, or they may feel overwhelmed at the thought of speaking about it. But place a crayon in their hand, a sheet of paper before them, or a lump of clay in their palm, and something shifts.
A single stroke of colour, a spontaneous shape, or a seemingly simple scribble carries meaning. The subconscious finds a way to the surface. And as they create, emotions start to flow—sometimes gently, sometimes in powerful waves. The art becomes a bridge, allowing them to express, process, and even begin to articulate what was once unspoken. In this sacred space, I witness them starting to make sense of their inner turmoil, finding clarity in what first seemed chaotic.
2. I AM ALWAYS AMAZED AT WHAT EMERGES IN A SESSION
Even after years of working as an art therapist, the creative revelations I witness never cease to amaze me. It’s not about artistic skill; it’s about the depth of what unfolds through art. A house floating on water, eyes staring endlessly in a metro station, a child with alien features, a bed symbolizing confinement—each image holds layers of personal significance, waiting to be understood.
Sometimes, the meaning is immediately clear to the client. Other times, they sit with their artwork, slowly realizing its connections to their thoughts and emotions. The process is equally powerful with three-dimensional work—clay, fabric, or found objects. A lump of clay, initially pressed with frustration or anger, gradually takes shape, transforming into a butterfly, a heart, or something entirely unexpected. In that transformation, something internal shifts as well. There is healing in the making.
3. I CAN GET CREATIVE
The greatest joys of being an art therapist is the freedom to experiment with different creative mediums. When I first started, I relied on materials I was most comfortable with—pastels, clay, and paper. But as I’ve grown in my practice, I’ve expanded my approach to include puppets, dolls, wire sculptures, and nature elements like leaves and twigs. Tactile materials such as air-dry clay, playdough, fabric scraps, and felt, as well as collage-making with magazines, washi tape, and pressed flowers, add variety without overwhelming. I’ve also explored using mosaic tiles, paper mâché, soft pastels, kinetic sand, and even natural pigments from spices and tea stains. Everyday items like buttons, feathers, smooth stones, beads, and sensory materials like sand trays and yarn have also found their place in my sessions—each medium offering a unique pathway for clients to express and heal.
Each medium carries its own unique energy. Clay offers a grounding, tactile experience. Collage allows for layering emotions and stories. Puppetry gives voice to hidden parts of the self. Nature-based art reconnects us with something larger than ourselves. The more I explore, the more I realize that creativity is limitless. And when I bring new ideas into my sessions, I see how they open doors for my clients, too—doors to expression, to healing, and to self-discovery.
4. SEEING THE SHIFT OVER TIME
Art therapy provides a visual record of transformation. Unlike talk therapy, where progress is often intangible, art leaves behind a trail—a series of images, shapes, and symbols that tell a story of change.
When clients look back at their earlier work, they often see things they hadn't noticed before, the progression from chaos to clarity, from darkness to light, from stuckness to movement. It’s never a straight line, never purely linear, but there is always a shift. A shift in colour choices, in subject matter, in the way they use space on the page. Sometimes, it's the smallest of changes—a figure once drawn curled up in a corner now stands in the centre, arms open. A once-muted palette now carries hints of brightness.
These shifts are profound. They are moments of realization, of healing becoming visible. And when clients see these changes in their own artwork, they begin to trust the changes happening within themselves.
5. HOW PEOPLE BECOME CHILDREN AGAIN
There is something magical about watching an adult rediscover play. Give an elderly woman a lump of clay, and her first instinct might be, “I don’t know what to do with this.” Half an hour later, she is shaping and moulding it, lost in the joy of creation.
Ask a forty-year-old to dip their hands into paint, and they hesitate—self-conscious, resistant. But moments later, they are smearing colours, laughing, delighting in the textures, the mess, the freedom.
Art therapy has a way of peeling away the layers of self-doubt and hesitation that accumulate over the years. It invites people to reconnect with the childlike parts of themselves—the parts that once explored, played, and created without fear of judgment. In those moments, I see pure joy. And that joy is healing.
5. FINDING MY WAY
In Japan, the ancient practice of kintsugi teaches that broken pottery can be repaired with gold, making it even more beautiful than before. I, too, was broken when my mother passed away. Grief consumed me, and for a long time, I struggled to find a sense of direction.
Then I found art therapy—or perhaps, it found me. What started as a means of personal healing turned into a profound calling. Little did I know that picking up a brush, molding clay, or assembling collages would lead me to a whole new way of being.
They say the right profession comes to you when you are ready. For me, it arrived later in life, well into my fifties. But when I stepped into this field, I knew—I had found what I was meant to do. Art therapy was not just a career; it was a homecoming.
6. HEALING MY OWN EMOTIONS
People often assume that therapists have everything figured out, that we are immune to struggles or pain. The truth is, I experience the same range of emotions as anyone else—sadness, frustration, joy, moments of doubt. Life’s circumstances affect me deeply.
But I have a tool that helps me navigate those emotions. Art has been my sanctuary time and time again. When I feel lost, I paint. When I feel overwhelmed, I collage. When words fail me, I turn to my hands—to create, to process, to heal.
Through art, I have released anger, made peace with grief, and rediscovered joy. My own creative practice is not separate from my work as a therapist—it is the foundation that allows me to hold space for others.
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