Art Saves Lives
Art, Trauma, and Bumper Stickers
When I was in high school, some years ago, and just learning to drive, my best friend inherited her first car. It was a small Nissan Sentra, of a vibrant turquoise, and among its other charming quirks it carried a bumper sticker on the right hand fender that read “Art Saves Lives.” That bumper sticker always bothered me. It wasn’t funny, or tongue in cheek. It wasn’t political, or incendiary. And as a sticker of the heartwarming variety, it didn’t seem to strike any real chord. “Hugs save lives” would have been more heart-warming, and “Doctors save lives” more true. But art? I didn’t see it.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about that bumper sticker. My coworker Andrea, an artist and dance therapist by training, and an enthusiast of the Sanctuary model, has been leading a weekly group at Pathways to address trauma in an unconventional way; through art. Some weeks ago, she attended an Anatomy of the Soul Seminar, led by Curt Thompson. He defined trauma as the breaking down of connections within ourselves, leading to a break down in our connections with other people. Creativity, he asserted, is the opposite; a way of connecting with ourselves, ultimately restoring our connection with others. Andrea loved this idea, and when she got back to the office she set the wheels in motion to begin a weekly group to address trauma with art.
I wandered downstairs at 11:30 on a Wednesday a few weeks ago to see for myself what Andrea has created. I find her seated in a sea of beautiful art equipment solicited from friends and acquaintances; acrylic pencils and charcoal line one table, a large sketch pad sits propped in the corner, and clean white canvases cover the central table where several people are working. The room is quiet; unusually so, for an office filled with the shuffle and bustle of staff and clients. Ella’s sultry alto resonates from Andrea’s I-phone, and the faint rustle of bodies, pens, and brushes only occasionally registers above her.
I spend the morning with deep, vibrant paint and thick brushes, decorating a large, heavy page. I’m here to chat with participants, but I’m also here to see for myself what a little art can do. I start with ochre, a dark yellow shade. As I wet the brush the participant next to me details how important the jazz in the room is to him. “It’s classic,” Lee explains. “Ella, Nat King Cole, Sinatra, Ray, Dean Martin-the good stuff.”
I ask Lee what art group has meant to him. He explains how hard it is to get out of the house, and how important art group has been for him. “People don’t do this kind of thing,” he tells me, “they just don’t.” Lee has been part of lots of therapy groups, but has never had a group before that specifically gives a quiet space to be around others, but work on your own projects. Today he’s working on a water color, a nature scene. “Art literally saved my life,” he tells me. He explains how art has become a reason for him to get up each day, something that motivates him to move forward, and helps him overcome his anxiety.
Lee is particularly articulate, and adept at expressing his experience. Others in the group aren’t able to put their feelings into words so succinctly, but watching the stillness of their bodies, and the focus they employ as they create speaks loudly to me. I think about them, as I fill in my lines, ochre now joined by deep, wine red and indigo blue. I feel present, focused. I think about the sounds of the Philly streets, where our participants have spent years of their lives; the honking, the cars, the voices of passersby. I think about the mess of life, the emotions and uncertainty inherent to living, especially on the streets. I think about that bumper sticker: Art Saves Lives. As I stare at my clean brush strokes, vibrant against the white page, tangible expression of intangible feelings, I realize that art group has made me a convert. Art saves lives? I believe it. Now I just need to track down a copy of that bumper sticker.
About the Author
Becca DeWhitt is a writer, coffee enthusiast, and polyglot living in Philadelphia, PA. She has worked at Pathways to Housing PA since 2013, and loves working with the participants and staff there. Off the clock, you can find her hiking, searching for Francois Pralus chocolate, and inventing new ways to make her 1 year old giggle.
