Psychotherapists Are Artists
Image via Dibakar Roy
When approached and practiced in certain ways, psychotherapy can be elevated to the level of an art form. The fact that psychotherapy is still (and necessarily so) a private affair that is hidden from public consumption makes it more difficult to qualify or quantify its status as a form of art. But for the many who practice it and the few who get to observe it, there are differences between straightforward practitioners and artists in the trade.
Consider this—art is a realm of subjectivity, where often times consensus is king and the majority rules. The paintings of a Da Vinci and Picasso, or the designs of Frank Lloyd Wright still leave some cold. As do the writings of Baldwin, Morrison, or Rowling. But to a sizeable amount of people, their works represent titanic triumphs of human creativity. Whatever this sizeable number is, it represents mass approval, which is so often necessary for the triumph of art over obscurity, but of course a number is not all that art is. And this mass effect I speak of has lent its weight not only to the crafts of painting, architecture, or literature, but also to psychology, the study of the human mind.
To be clear, mass approval is not enough. The popularity of a thing does not mean that it is worthy of adulation. Art stirs something deep inside of us and brings it to the surface. Art disturbs, and is confrontational at times, but it also seeks pathways to deeper connection with oneself and with the world. The beauty of art lies in the way it makes us feel something that is deeply personal and at the same time relatable to all of humanity. How the artist achieves this effect differs based on their tools and the talents they possess, but the desired effect is always the same. To wake others up to themselves and get them to feel deeply.
The psychotherapist does not use the brush of the painter, the instrument of the musician, or the charts, graphs, and measuring tools of the scientist. They use themselves—their presence, consisting of their body, heart, mind, and spirit, which allows them to forge an alliance with those they work with in hopes of bringing forth something new. The artist plays at God as they attempt to corral creation, and in a sense the psychotherapist does the same. The best are very intentional about their ambition.
At times the psychotherapists will fail: there will be clients who do not change or become better, and some who may become worse. To fail in the endeavor to create and bring forth something new in a person can be more devastating than errant brush strokes and misplaced musical notes. This is because a person expresses consciousness rather than simply being a product of consciousness. To work with another, knowing their potential and their limitations, and journey through the maze of their life with them takes courage and trust. Trust, in another and in oneself, is the bedrock on which creation takes place. Without it there is no sense of direction, no willingness to take risks, and no progress which can be made.
It takes courage and a certain audacity to practice art, because it requires a willingness to exist separate and apart from others. A distance that is necessary when one does not simply want to talk, but feels they truly have something to say. Whether or not the feeling is justified is a bargain which must be struck between the individual and society. Some psychotherapists have much to say about nothing. They regurgitate empty platitudes or vomit up their own insecurities, inappropriately praising themselves or judging others without having earned a right to do either. They move at a frenetic pace while accomplishing little of substance; they retreat into data and evidence whenever they are confused or unsure, signaling that they do not know how to practice the art of psychotherapy, but only how to follow the manual they were taught.
The client who comes before the psychotherapist may for the first time in their lives, as a result of their dissatisfaction, be open minded enough to have a real encounter with themselves. The approach of the typical psychotherapist is management and symptom reduction—to be able to give a pat on the back to the client as they walk out the door and assure them that they are okay without ever asking them to be better. The artist who practices psychotherapy seeks other things—connection, engagement, growth, and transformation in ways that are organic and unique to the individual they are working with at the time. Only art can do this. At its core the musician has there 12 notes to achieve this, the writer has there 26 letters, and the psychotherapist has their self. More than any theoretical background, use of the self is needed, a self that accepts life with its tensions and challenges, and helps others do the same.