202 • Introduction to Art Therapy
sometimes he was both doctor and patient, doing things like examining himself or giving
himself a shot, as on the DVD (E).
In fact, Larry had fifty operations for congenital glaucoma before his eyes had been
removed at age five. To make matters worse, he had been jealous of his baby sister, and
she had died of cystic fibrosis just before the operation. His repeated dramas were related
not only to the trauma itself, but also to his unconscious guilt about his sister’s death. He
thought his blindness was a punishment for his badness.
With his dramatic flair, usually using art materials as props, Larry went on to create a
series of dramas about a “Good Larry” and a “Bad Larry.” He played both parts, and I was
myself/parent/teacher according to his instructions (F).
The struggle went on for many months, and included both repeated injuries and sym-
bolic replacements for his lost eyes (G), but finally the “Good Larry” was victorious. He
ended up taming the “Bad Larry” so that he could stay at the School for the Blind, where
the real Larry was starting to make friends and to enjoy learning. He left after six years of
therapy, announcing his “resignation” from the Child Guidance Center. He had come out of
his closet of fantasy and was warmly regarded by others.
Fifteen years after he terminated, I ran into Larry on the street. He recognized my voice
immediately, and greeted me warmly. He told me proudly about the life he had made for
himself: his friends, his job at the Guild for the Blind, and his performances at a local
Comedy Club. The latter was no surprise, since he had always done wonderful vocal imita-
tions and musical improvisations (H). He recalled our times together fondly and grinned as
he announced that he was no longer “mental!”
Probably ten years after that meeting, I got a phone call from Larry, telling me sadly that
his mother (I)—his best friend in the world—had died and asking if he could come in to
meet with me. Even though I had by then retired I agreed, because he sounded so forlorn.
He had two requests: for a copy of the film I had made about the art program at his
school, which he remembered remarkably well, and for some of the tape recordings from
our sessions (J). We had used the microphone of the tape recorder extensively so that he
could replay what had gone on in his many dramas. Months after that, he called to say that
he had copied all of the tapes, and wanted to meet again to return the originals.
Larry’s struggle to stay sane in a very confusing world was one of the more dramatic in
my own early years as a psychotherapist. It was moving that he remembered the details of
our work so well (K) and that the sound recordings of the sessions and on the film sound
track were so meaningful and comforting to him. Art can also function as such a transi-
tional object, allowing separation to happen more comfortably.
History of Art Therapy for Those With Disabilities (DVD 9.8)
When I began working with Larry in 1969, blind adults were making brooms, not express-
ing themselves creatively. Like the elderly, individuals with disabilities were most often seen
as incapable of genuinely creative work. In 1967, when I started an art program (Figure 9.6)
at the Home for Crippled Children (A) (now the Children’s Institute), I found only one proj-
ect, reported in the News section of the Bulletin of Art Therapy in 1964 (p. 66), which pro-
moted authentic work with those with disabilities.
A New York artist had started a program in 1958 with cerebral palsied adults. He had
noticed something I also observed, which looked miraculous—that when a person with
involuntary muscle spasms is absorbed in a painting process, like mixing colors, he often
achieves a degree of relaxation that allows him to actually control the brush!