50 • Introduction to Art Therapy
Creating Comes Naturally
Creating seems to be natural to our species, involving a spontaneous impulse, if not an actual
need (DVD 3.2). Making marks comes so easily, in fact, to infants and toddlers (A) that we
were not terribly surprised to learn from anthropologists like Desmond Morris (1962) that
our closest animal relatives—apes and chimpanzees—also love to draw and paint, some-
times enough to postpone food or sex while engaged in creating (B). Those that have learned
sign language even name their scribbles, just like toddlers.
I once had the good fortune to accompany art therapist David Henley on a visit to the
Lincoln Park Zoo in Chicago, where he had been going for weekly art sessions with the ani-
mals. (C). Though his chimp friend made it clear that she didn’t feel like painting that day, I
did get to watch a mother elephant and child painting side by side, brushes in trunks, both
rhythmically swishing colors back and forth on the paper.
I had the further pleasure of observing a gorilla named June create a crayon drawing,
which I treasure as a memento of the visit (D). June’s drawing itself was unremarkable, like
a child’s scribble. But watching her concentrate on the activity for a full five minutes in a
large cage full of noisily playing apes was astonishing. Although I have often seen people
similarly absorbed in drawing, I felt like I was witnessing firsthand the primal pleasure of a
deep engagement in the creative process.
Art for Healing Is Ancient and Universal
So the origin, the source of art therapy, lies I believe in the natural world. Although its
emergence as a newly defined profession is relatively recent, its roots are ancient and uni-
versal (DVD 3.3). Prehistoric artists who drew animals on the walls of caves (A) or who
carved fertility figures, Egyptian painters of protective symbols on mummy cases, Tibetan
Buddhist creators of sand mandalas (B), African carvers of ritual masks, Byzantine painters
of sacred icons, Ethiopian artists who drew on parchment healing scrolls, Zuni carvers of
magic fetishes—all represent historical antecedents of modern art therapy.
Like the unconscious mind itself, this source is ever present as a part of the human condi-
tion. The “magical thinking” behind such things as faith healing and voodoo effigies is not
simply an ancient relic or exclusive to primitive cultures. It is, in fact, present in us all, not
only when we are children but eternally, in that part of the mind not accessible to rational
thought. It may well be the source of the “placebo effect” and the success of mind-body
approaches to healing. What art historian and psychoanalyst Ernst Kris (1952) called the
“magic power of the image” is very real for human beings, and we who work with art in
therapy know and respect it. Man’s profound belief in this phenomenon may even be the
primary reason that art has always been so therapeutic.
Equally ancient is the use of symbolic expression in order to heal. In most “primitive”
societies, the visual arts are evident in the ritual decoration of body, costumes, masks and
other props, the beautification of the sanctuary, and the creation of a setting for the cer-
emony. More dramatic still is the use of magical visual symbols, such as fetishes, talismans,
or sand paintings. Medicine men and shamans have been thought of as the forerunners of
modern psychiatrists. They are even more clearly the ancestors of creative art therapists (cf.
McNiff, 1994; 2004).
Because of the universality of art making and image-magic, and because of the related
power of the symbolic mode, healers past and present have utilized many different art forms
in their work. Most healing rituals incorporate the rhythm of the chant, the beat of the
drum, the movement of the dance, and the drama of the story, along with the power of many