The Stencil

I was attracted to working in art therapy as it seemed to inhabit a world of creativity, imagination and play, where expression and spontaneity were valued. An art therapist encourages the notion of having no preconceived ideas: see what emerges, then develop it further, try not to be rational and let the unconscious emerge. For people new to the processes of art, I always introduced a range of art materials. I talked through and showed them how materials might be used in a way that was facilitating and not prescriptive. Making choices of colour, texture, size and form were the first steps. It was tremendously exciting for me, as an art therapist, to follow other people’s personal journeys of self discovery through art. These journeys were often very emotional. Narratives of someone’s life emerged, both by sharing and talking about their art. Through expression and sublimation people were left feeling good about themselves and proud of their art.

However, I later found another world where creativity, experimentation and spontaneity are avoided. Art therapy may then be experienced as unhelpful. This was a world I did not explore for many years. A deeper understanding led me to believe that sometimes, we need to feel in control, so that the status quo of our minds can be maintained and we are not overwhelmed by unwanted thoughts. There are many socially acceptable activities to help us through these times, such as engaging in some sort of repetitive activity like knitting, cleaning and addictive puzzles.

The stencil belongs to this world of control. It would be akin to the factory production line: a mould when using clay, or painting by numbers, none of which are generally associated with the art therapists’ repertoire. I am not referring to the use of stencils to create words or pictures. The intention is to follow the outlines of the letters or shapes, and reproduce these exactly, thus giving the satisfaction of a copy without any deviation. It is a task focussed activity, intended to have no meaning and where psychological interpretation is of no concern.

 I found that sometimes on the journey of therapy, it was important to press the pause button: to adjust the pace to manageable levels. This would result in times when it seemed nothing happened in therapy, and when stencils might be used. I was impatient being alongside someone who did not want to engage in an openness to inner expression and where all thinking was rather matter of fact,  but these were times when control could be experienced and the therapist’s power was challenged. It was difficult for me to silence my therapist’s curiosity and my innate desire to muse over the question “Why?” Only by appreciating the terror of psychosis or the horror of reliving past trauma and abuse could I value the need to be quiet and tread carefully.  It was almost as if we were negotiating a path through a mine field.

Helen Greenwood was employed full time for 30 years as an art therapist in adult mental health within the National Health Service then, self-employed, she provided supervision and teaching. She is now retired. Her areas of interest have been working with people diagnosed with psychotic illness or psychotic thought processes, and also those adults who have endured abuse, deprivation or early trauma in childhood. A number of papers and chapters have been published, based on this work.