How Art Therapy Untangles Perfectionism
Perfectionism can feel like carrying a tiny inspector in your pocket. It taps its clipboard on everything, emails, outfits, conversations, even the way you rest. The intention is safety and excellence but the impact is often stress, delay, and shrinking joy.
Here is how it gets in the way in everyday life, and what you can do about it.
Where it trips you up
Decisions
Endless researching and comparing. Dinner choices take twenty minutes. Phone plans take weeks. The cost is time and mental load.Time and deadlines
You tweak until midnight, then miss the cut off. Lateness comes not from laziness, but from trying to send the spotless version.Work and study
You avoid feedback because it feels like danger. You overprepare and still feel unready. Projects stall at ninety per cent.Relationships
You apologise for not being your best self, then withdraw to avoid being seen in progress. Or you try to control the plan so nothing goes wrong.Home and life admin
You wait for the perfect system before tidying or budgeting. Clutter and unopened mail build up because the first step feels too messy.Money
You overbuy the ideal tool, course, or outfit, then avoid checking the account because you fear what you will find. Or you undercharge because the work is not perfect yet.Health and rest
Exercise becomes all or nothing. Sleep gets cut to chase the final polish. Rest feels undeserved unless everything is finished.Creativity
You never start because the first draft will not match the image in your head. Half made ideas pile up like abandoned canvases.Neurodivergent life
Masking and high effort coping can hide struggle until burnout hits. Executive load increases when every task must be done the one right way.Using supports
You delay booking therapy or using funding because the timing or plan is not perfect. Help arrives late, if at all.How to spot it in the moment
Thinking signs, all or nothing, shoulds, mind reading, catastrophising, and overpersonalising mistakes.
Body signs, tight jaw, shallow breath, a scanning gaze that hunts errors, an urge to fix or to flee.
Behaviour signs, lots of preparing, little starting, or frantic finishing with no recovery time.
If perfectionism is like a necklace that has knotted itself in the drawer, then art therapy gives you a calm table, gentle light, and steady hands to loosen the knot together rather than yanking at it.
How art therapy does the untangling
1) Trains process over product
In the studio we practise marks that are not meant to impress anyone. Drips, smudges, first drafts. Your body learns that imperfect action is safe. This widens thinking and softens all or nothing rules.2) Lowers threat so choice returns
Perfectionism often lives in a tense body. Slow rhythmic making, clay squeeze and release, breath marks, and colour washes invite your nervous system toward safety. When the body settles, planning and perspective switch back on.3) Externalises the inner critic
We draw the Critic and the Caring Coach as two characters. On paper they can speak, set fair rules, and share the load. You leave with a one sentence cue the Coach can use during hard tasks, for example, small step now, refine later.4) Updates old lessons
Many perfectionist rules were learned during tough moments. We recall one memory while grounded, then pair it with new meaning as you make an image. This can soften the old lesson, never try unless you can win, and replace it with, I can begin and improve.5) Builds interoception and self compassion
Clay, textured paper, and charcoal increase awareness of body signals that warn of a spiral, tight jaw, shallow breath, scanning for errors. We pair that awareness with a kind response rather than a push. Over time you collect proof that kindness works better than pressure.6) Rehearses flexible behaviour
We design tiny experiments, timed sketches, two colour limits, non dominant hand, quick share then step away. You practise beginning, stopping, and sending at good enough. Those behaviours transfer to email, study, business, and relationships.Five small practices to try this week
One minute mess, two minute refine
Make a fast messy layer, then add one useful detail. Start the next task immediately after.The three check rule
Before you send or submit, look only for these three, clear subject, key point, kind close. When all three are ticked, send.Critic on a chair
Draw the Critic on a small sticky note and place it on a chair behind you. Invite the Caring Coach to sit beside you as a second note with one sentence of support.Compassionate close
Hand on chest, say, I showed up, I learned, I can refine next time. Then step away.
Changes you can expect
Less procrastination, because beginning feels safer.
Fewer emotional crashes after feedback, because the Coach now speaks.
Better decisions, because a settled body gives you perspective.
More follow through, because you have practised good enough and done for now.
Unveiling the many myths in art therapy
Art therapy often wears a mysterious cloak. People whisper that it is only for children, or that you must be good at art, or that it is simply craft with candles. Let us lift the cloak together. Think of this as opening the studio door, sunlight on the workbench, brushes in a jar, a gentle invitation to look again.
Myth 1: “Art therapy is only for kids.”
Reality: Art therapy supports people across the lifespan. Children, teens, adults and elders all benefit. The language of image and gesture is human, not age bound.
Myth 2: “You must be good at art.”
Reality: You do not need to be good at art for art to be good for you. The process is the medicine. A smudge can hold a feeling. A simple line can steady the breath. Your artwork is a container, not a performance.
Myth 3: “It is just arts and crafts.”
Reality: Art therapy is a professional mental health practice and art psychotherapists are trained professionals. It blends psychological knowledge with creative process. Sessions are purposeful, ethical and responsive to your needs. In our region, creative arts therapists may be members of ANZACATA, which sets training and practice standards.
Myth 4: “The therapist will interpret my art and tell me what it means.”
Reality: You are the expert on your images. A competent art therapist will never impose meaning. Instead, we wonder with you. We notice colour, shapes, lines, forms and space. We ask, “What do feel as you look at the image .”
Myth 5: “It is not evidence based.”
Reality: There is a growing research base for art therapy in areas such as trauma, anxiety, depression, grief and medical settings. Art therapy works through multiple pathways, including regulation of the nervous system, symbolic expression and meaning making. We also evaluate progress with you, using outcomes that fit your life. Art therapy is practised in hospitals, schools, mental health and community settings. Art therapists work with other professionals such as social worker, counsellors, case managers, nurses, doctors in multidisciplinary teams that honour evidence based methods of working.
Myth 6: “It replaces talk therapy.”
Reality: It can, and it can also sit beside it. Many people weave both. Art helps you land in the body, then words name what is found. Others speak first, then make images to deepen the work. The order can change as you do.
Myth 7: “It will push me into painful material too fast.”
Reality: Materials can slow exposure and widen safety. When words feel scorching, the page can hold the heat. We pause, we ground, we let the art maker decides the rhythm and pace.
Myth 8: “It is messy and expensive.”
Reality: Art therapy can be simple, tidy and inexpensive. A pencil, a glue stick and recycled magazines are enough. Clay can stay in a tray. Messy paint play can be easily cleaned by setting the table or the floor with a big sheet. Found objects like flower petals, seeds, tree bark and sea shells are nature’s freebies waiting to be woven into an art piece.
Myth 9: “It is only for trauma.”
Reality: Trauma healing is one pathway. Art therapy also supports stress, perfectionism, identity work, grief, relationship patterns and life transitions. It can be practical, reflective or restorative, depending on what you need. Art is versatile, fluid, flexible.
Myth 10: “Online art therapy (telehealth) does not work.”
Reality: It can work seamlessly. The studio table can be set up so both the art therapist and the person making the art can share the creative process. With clear arrangements and thoughtful set up, online sessions can be focused, safe and effective.
Myth 11: “Art therapy is neutral about culture.”
Reality: Culture is central. Images carry language, memory, Country, land, family, community and more than human relationships. A respectful practice welcomes your ways of knowing. Art therapy can sit alongside story, song and ritual, creating a third space where your voice leads.
Myth 12: “The therapist keeps my art and analyses it later.”
Reality: You choose what happens to your artwork. Some people take it home, some leave it in safe storage, some ritualise letting go. There is no secret analysis. Consent and transparency are core.
Myth 13: “NDIS will not consider art therapy.”
Reality: Art therapy may be included when it clearly supports your plan goals, for example capacity building, communication, daily living or social participation. Speak with your planner or support coordinator to see how this fits your specific plan.
Myth 14: “It is all paint and pastels.”
Reality: Materials are varied. Clay, collage, textiles, natural objects, writing with image, flower arrangements, even mindful photography. We choose tools that match your goals and sensory needs.
Myth 15: “It gives instant breakthroughs.”
Reality: Sometimes a catharsis happens swiftly, like finding a key you thought was lost. More often, art therapy is a steady practice. Small, consistent moves that add up. The work respects your timing, energy and pace.
Where art therapy intersects with talk therapy and where it diverges
Art therapy and talk therapy are like two rivers flowing toward the same ocean. Both aim for relief, clarity and change. Both honour your story and your human dignity. Yet they travel by different currents. One speaks through conversation. The other lets colour, texture and image carry what words cannot. Understanding where they meet, and where they part, helps you choose the path that serves you best right now.
Where they intersect
Shared purpose. Both seek healing, growth and a steadier nervous system.
Safe relationship. Each depends on a trusting alliance where you are seen and respected.
Evidence informed practice. Both draw from research and reflective practice, and both use goals that can be reviewed together.
Ethics and professionalism. Qualified therapists work within clear ethical guidelines, professional supervision and ongoing learning. In Australia, creative arts therapists may be members of ANZACATA, which sets standards for Code of Ethics and Standard of Practice.
Where they diverge
The language of healing
Talk therapy invites thoughts, memories and meanings through spoken conversation.
Art therapy invites image making. Paint, clay, collage or found materials become a second language. You do not need art skills. The process holds the story, much like a bowl holds water.
Access to what sits under words
Talking can map patterns and beliefs with precision.
Artmaking can reach material that feels preverbal, tangled or unsafe to say aloud. A smear of charcoal may hold what a sentence cannot.
Regulation of the body
Talking can soothe through steady presence and paced reflection.
Artmaking adds tactile rhythm. The hand rolling clay, the breath that slows as the brush moves, these are direct invitations to the nervous system to settle.
Sense making
In talk therapy, insight often arrives through dialogue and reframe.
In art therapy, insight often arrives through witnessing the image. The picture speaks back. You notice distance, proportion, colour, and suddenly a new meaning emerges.
Power of metaphor
Talk uses metaphor in language.
Art invites metaphor to come alive. A handmade puppet allows you to reconnect with your inner child. The gold paint’s shimmer reignites your sense of awe and wonder of the beauty that is possible in this imperfect world.
Who leads the way
In many talk approaches, the therapist may ask questions, offer reflections or specific strategies.
In art therapy, the materials and the body often lead. The therapist safeguards the space, notices, and invites curiosity about what unfolds.
Pace and tolerance
Talking can feel too fast or too confronting for some people at certain times.
Artmaking can slow the tempo and widen your window of tolerance. When words spike anxiety, the paper can carry the heat.
When each might fit
Choose talk therapy when you want to
test thoughts and stories
practise skills for mood, sleep or relationships
prepare for conversations or decisions
work with clear cognitive goals
Choose art therapy when you want to
engage with trauma material gently without going into too much details at the risk of retraumatization
reconnect with body and imagination
loosen perfectionism and self criticism
explore identity, culture, grief and belonging in a felt way
You could choose an integrated path. You may begin with art to ground and regulate, then weave in conversation to name and plan. Or you could try talk therapy first, then use art therapy to deepen and consolidate. You can move between the two as your needs change.
Following the river’s meander with therapeutic art making
“We speak as if meandering were a deviation from a truer path. But the river knows no other way. To ‘correct’ its curves is to erase its identity.” - Bayo Akomolafe
The medical model of talk therapy often requires the therapist to work with their “clients” to achieve their goals, work towards a destination, get from A to B. I struggled with this imaginary straight and linear line we had to facilitate for the people we help. Until I sat with Bayo’s concept of “meandering”, he reminds us the river bends- not toward resolution, but toward the impossible labour of staying with the wound.
Our traumas and wounds are excess, curves that cannot be straightened. Our healing should also mirror that. I am a devotee of art therapy as a healing method as the creative process allows for meandering in the mess, and staying with the troubling.
Meandering is not delay, it is nature’s intelligence. Therapeutic art making is very much like a river that knows to bend, a tide that knows to pause, a root that knows to search sideways for water. Here is what that living intelligence can teach us.
River logic.
A river does not conquer a boulder. It curls around it and keeps flowing. Meandering asks us to meet difficulty by turning a little, softening pressure, and letting meaning arrive along the curve. Art making follows this river logic. What feels blocked becomes a shoreline that shapes new paths, not a wall that ends the journey.
Tidal time.
The ocean teaches that in and out are both holy. Meandering honours rise and rest. Art making follows this rhythm, it swells, then quietens. Insight comes in its own weather. We learn to trust the return rather than forcing a constant high tide. Health can look different in fast seasons, and slower ones.
Mangrove stance.
Mangroves hold soft ground with many roots. Meandering grows many points of contact, body, memory, Country, community, more than human kin. Strength comes from spreading relation, not from hardening. Art making belongs to this swamp of support, tender and resilient.
Mycelium knowing.
Underfoot, fungi move nutrients along hidden lines. Meandering trusts what works out of sight. Care travels through small connections, a colour remembered, a scent from a bottle of slime, a shape from a dream. Not everything that heals announces itself. The unseen network still feeds.
Eucalypt shedding.
Gums slip their old skin to keep breathing. Meandering gives permission to let labels, roles and perfect plans fall away. New bark gleams where the sun touches. Art making becomes a place where identities are composted into soil for what is becoming.
Fire and seed.
After fire, some seeds open. Meandering does not hurry regeneration, yet it honours the heat that cracked us. Art making lets ash and sprout sit side by side, not as a neat lesson but as a truthful landscape.
Migration sense.
Birds cross oceans by listening to stars and currents. Meandering invites that kind of navigation, less map, more attunement. We turn towards a direction by feeling and intuiting. We rest where there is food. We fly again when the wind rises. Therapy becomes a seasonal journey to begin again.
Rain on country.
Rain does not argue with dust. It arrives, lingers, and leaves its scent on earth. Meandering welcomes those moments of grace without trying to bottle them. We learn gratitude without possession.
In this way, therapeutic art making does not push toward a single answer. It travels like water, breathes like tide, roots like mangrove, networks like mycelium, and gleams like new gum bark in morning light. Meandering returns us to a pace where bodies can settle, relations can gather, and the next right bend can show itself without force.
*Disclaimer: This educational post is by no means a substitute for an art therapist. Please seek help from a professional and credentialed art therapist to explore feelings, develop healthy coping mechanisms, and work toward improving overall well-being.
why art making is an act of resistance
Our current global political climate is marked by “radical uncertainty,” where rule of law, press freedom and electoral integrity have eroded in many countries, even as a few places show democratic recovery. The Russia-Ukraine war, the Gaza genocide, climate stress, economic wobble, AI boom, mass migration and displacement have many of us bracing for the next crisis. Urgency is everywhere. In the art therapy studio we choose a different pace. We make a small sanctuary where bodies can settle, images can speak, and community care can grow.
During this urgent times, art making is a quiet act of refusal and a bold act of care. Here is why it matters, and how to do it well.
Why art making is resistance
It protects your inner knowing. When the news cycle colonises attention, making returns you to the absence of noise. Attention is a resource. Guarding it is political.
It slows what tries to rush you. Urgent systems demand immediate attention and quick fixes. Slow marks, colourful splashes, muddled paint, sticky glue: all are glorious and radical refusals. Slowness lets insights and truths catch up.
It widens who gets to speak. Images carry the voices that did not get the microphone and the headlines; body, memory, culture, Country, ancestors, more than human kin. Letting them speak challenges dominant and narrow narratives.
It rehumanises. Where policy turns people into numbers, making returns humanity with each stroke, texture, colour, story. Seeing and being seen is a counter to erasure. Making and reconstructing is a counter to passive consumption.
It redistributes power. You choose the materials, the pace, the colour, when to start and finish, when to pause. Choice rehearsed in the studio becomes courage at the meeting table or the ballot box. You are a creator, bringing forth new ideas, new possibilities.
It keeps joy alive. Joy is not a luxury, it is fuel for aliveness. Pleasure in colour and rhythm strengthens the nervous system so you can sustain care and take action.
It builds solidarity. Collective making, crafternoons where neurodivergent folks gather together, zines, banners for marches and protests, stitched squares, turns isolation into shared ground. Community care becomes the antidote for alienation and loneliness.
How it works in the body
Rhythm and repetition settle the nervous system, which opens room for reflection and connection.
Hands that move with purpose transform stuck energy and helplessness into agency and power.
Sensory input anchors. The weight of clay, scratch of charcoal, bring you out of the dopamine addiction from doom scrolling and back into the present. The buttery, textured and thick acrylic paint reminds you that it is okay to messy, fluid, imperfect and to take up space.
Language for yourself and your community
“I am moving at a humane pace.”
“My attention is worth protecting.”
“Making is political.”
“We make to remember we are many.”
Ethics and care
Safety first. Protect identities if needed, initials only, blur faces, Choose venues with consent. Follow cultural protocols.
Approach Country with respect. Gather natural materials lightly, return what you can.
Rest on purpose. Action without rest burns the field you are trying to grow.
A tiny weekly ritual
Take twenty minutes. Three long exhales. Make art as a political refusal. Bring attention to what is, whether anger, grief, restlessness, fatigue, perhaps even joy. When you finish, write one line beginning with, “In this climate, I resist…”.
In short, art making resists by renewing your capacity to feel, to think, and to stand with others. It turns attention into a shelter, choice into practice, and practice into presence. From that presence, your voice carries further, and your care lasts longer.
*Disclaimer: A creative and therapeutic prompt is by no means a substitute for an art therapist. Please seek help from a professional and credentialed art therapist to explore feelings, develop healthy coping mechanisms, and work toward improving overall well-being.
Weaving Bayo Akomolafe’s ideas into a queer and posthumanist art therapy practise
1) The times are urgent, let us slow down
Sense: Urgency rushes us to find quick fixes. Fast can feel powerful yet it often fuels the same problems and keep them alive. Slowing down is a decolonial refusal, it lets other kinds of wisdom catch up. Creativity, spirit, memory, culture, and the more than human world arrive when there is space. Grief and compassion can re-enter the room when slowness becomes the pace.
Studio moves:
Begin with a slow arrival. Feet on floor, three long exhales, eyes soften to the edges of the room.
Use slow materials, air dry clay, tearing and weaving paper, crafting with thread, like hand-stitching and crochet.
Invite time language, “What happens if we move at the speed of the bark, or at the pace of a snail.”
2) Make sanctuary, not solutions
Sense: Sanctuary is a small, real place where life can go on, even in trouble.
Studio moves:
Create a “sanctuary corner”. A small cloth, a leaf from outside, a stone, a bowl of water, a handful of flower petals. Clients choose what belongs there today.
Close sessions by resting the work in sanctuary. A breath, a line of thanks, an offering.
Document “what was nourished”, not only “what was achieved”.
3) Stay with the crack
Sense: Cracks, rifts and ruins are not mistakes to seal and cover up. They are doorways where new worlds peep through.
Studio moves:
Kintsugi inspired paper repairs. Tear, then mend with visible thread or gold pastel. Ask, “What does the repair change, not fix.”
“Map the crack.” Draw the fracture lines in a life story and sit beside them, not over them. Title the map with a verb, “becoming”, “listening”, “refusing”.
4) Court bewilderment
Sense: Getting lost is a practice of humility. Queer, decolonial work thrives where certainty loosens its grip.
Studio moves:
“Blind contour introductions.” Two minutes drawing without looking at the page. Share what surprised you.
“Questions, not answers.” Place three questions around the work, “What if,” “Who else is here,” “What does this ask of me.” Return to the image next session.
5) Walk with tricksters and monsters
Sense: The figures we fear may be guides. Trickster energy reroutes power. Monster work befriends the estranged self.
Studio moves:
Make a small trickster. Found objects, wire, bark, thread. Ask, “What rule do you bend for my freedom?”
“Monster masks.” Paint the creature you avoid. Give it a task, guarding sleep, speaking boundaries, eating shame.
6) Practise withnessing, not just witnessing
Sense: We do not stand above, we stand with. Withnessing and witnessing through the senses is a kind duet. The body pays attention. The art material answers. We stand with what is here until it feels a little less alone, and from that companionship, the next steps potentially appear.
Studio moves:
Two labels beside each artwork, “What the image knows,” “What the relationship knows.”
Therapist places a tiny mark on the page with consent. Name how you are moved. This de-centers the old, tired narrative of the lone creator and honours co-making.
7) Become kin with the more than human
Sense: Posthumanist care expands the circle. Country, materials, weather and animals are companions and collaborators.
Studio moves:
Invite a companion, stone for steadiness, water for cooling, bark for holding. State the role of the more than human aloud, “Clay will hold what words cannot carry.”
Return companions with thanks, or to place, to keep reciprocity alive.
8) Compost identities and diagnoses
Sense: Categories are useful and partial. Compost turns what was once rigid into soil for new life.
Studio moves:
Write the constraining label on scrap paper. Shred, soak, pulp, and remake a small sheet. Emboss a chosen word into the new page, “kin,” “becoming,” “sovereign”.
“Name and unname.” Place clinical language beside lived language. Keep both visible without letting either rule.
How science and spirituality intertwine in art therapy?
Science and spirituality are not rivals in the studio, they are two hands on the same clay, both feet on the same soil. Here is how they meet in art therapy, and why that union serves you.
Regulation meets reverence. Breath, rhythm and sensory choice help the nervous system settle, that is science. We pair this with quiet attention to what feels sacred to you, that is spirituality. Calm physiology gives the spirit room to speak, and a sense of meaning steadies the body in return.
Evidence meets experience. Research shows that making images can soothe flight, fight, freeze and fawn responses, integrate memory and widen tolerance for feeling. We honour that with simple practices such as repetitive mark making, bilateral movement, gentle touch with natural materials. At the same time we welcome your lived rituals, a small prayer, a word in language, a pause to turn our gaze towards land and Country. Data and devotion share the table.
Attachment meets belonging. Therapeutic rapport and clear boundaries grow safety, that is relational science. We extend that circle to kin, culture and more than human companions, a river stone, paperbark, a feather from Country, a squawk and squeal from the red-tailed black cockatoo, that is spiritual belonging. People feel less fragmented when connection can encompass both the clinical and the communal.
Neuroplasticity meets ceremony. Each time you choose a colour, slow a gesture or rework a form, the brain rehearses new pathways. We might wrap a finished piece, speak a line of gratitude, or place it beneath a branch brought from home. New choices rewire the brain, special ceremonies expand it for new possibilities.
Meaning making meets materials. Sensory and tactile detail gives the brain a safe anchor in the present, weight of clay, sound of charcoal, wet paint on fingers. From that sensory and tactile input, images bring forth questions and perhaps answers; or the ability to straddle the grey area of the in-between. The materials hold what words cannot, while your insights give those images direction.
Ethics meets the unseen. We practice consent, we honour agency and culturally safe care. We also respect mystery, the moments when an image arrives as if it has been waiting. The ethics of our professional practice keep you safe. The ability of the art therapist’s comfort in sitting with the discomfort and the mystery of your image honour your spirit’s becoming.
What this looks like in session
We begin with a short settling, feet on floor, three slow breaths, a hand on heart or belly.
You choose one living material to accompany you, perhaps a bark, leaf, stone, or thread.
We work with paced making, repeat marks, tear and weave, coil and smooth. I track breath and posture, inviting pauses when activation rises.
We close with a brief reflection that honours both, what did your body learn, and what meaning or message was offered. We might place the work on a small cloth or leave a note to keep it company.
A gentle prompt to try at home
Sit by a window for ten minutes with paper and a soft pencil. Let your breathing find a slow count of four in and six out. Each exhale, draw one simple line. When the page feels full, ask, what does this page want me to know. Write one sentence. That is science guiding the body, and spirit guiding the words.
In short, science keeps the doorway sturdy, spirituality keeps it expansive. Together they let healing be both measurable and meaningful, grounded and luminous, practical and deeply human.
*Disclaimer: A creative and therapeutic prompt is by no means a substitute for an art therapist. Please seek help from a professional and credentialed art therapist to explore feelings, develop healthy coping mechanisms, and work toward improving overall well-being.
Inside the practice of a queer and posthumanist art therapist
Queer, as I use it, is not just who we love. It is a way of standing slightly askew from the rules that try to straighten us. Queer refuses either/or boxes, and welcomes the messy, living space where identity is always becoming. It is the courage to invent new ways to speak, live and thrive when the old scripts do not fit.
Posthumanist means more than human. It notices that our lives are braided with Country, ancestors, animals, materials, rivers and weather. It loosens the grip of human-centred, one size fits all models, and lets the studio become a meeting place for all these relations. This outlook helps us soften hard borders like human or nonhuman, man or woman, science or spirit, West or Indigenous.
Together, queer and posthumanist lenses serve a social justice project. They help me challenge dominant stories in therapy that can sideline non-white bodies, women, gender diverse and neuro-nontypical folks. I draw on a transformative research and practice stance that centres voices at the margins and examines how power shapes what gets called “truth”.
This is why I work in the “third space”. Think of it as a creative borderland where old binaries soften, and new possibilities appear. In this in between, we explore self and other, trauma and healing, Western and Indigenous, as fluid conversations rather than fixed walls. Artmaking is our passport there.
In practice, what does that look like?
We adopt a gentle “not knowing” posture. Instead of forcing your story to fit a manual, we let images, gestures and materials lead. Power becomes shared, curiosity does the guiding.
We welcome the more than human. Paper bark, thread, clay, wind through the window, a childhood talisman, the gum outside the room, may all take part in meaning making. These are not decoration, but relationship entangled with the more than human.
We hold diagnostic language lightly. The manuals have their uses, yet they cannot capture our hauntings, our myths, or the sacred that moves through grief and awe. Art lets those speak, and be soothed, without being reduced or flattened.
We honour culture and Country. My own practice is a decolonial gesture, returning to my mother’s lineages and the more than human world we belong to, and inviting you to root into yours.
If you imagine therapy as a house, queer and posthumanist art therapy opens extra rooms, and a garden gate. We do not force you to sit beneath one bright light at a single desk. We wander together, sometimes barefoot on the grass, sometimes at the kitchen table, sometimes out under the stars. In those places, images arrive with their own wisdom, and healing can take a shape that truly fits you.
Why art making matters now, more than ever
In a world flooded with data, deadlines and constant upgrades, art remains a human way to breathe, connect and make meaning. Science, IT and tech bring remarkable tools. Capitalist and consumer cultures bring speed and choice. Yet many of us feel tired, isolated or unsure what truly matters anymore. Art is not a luxury, it is one of the ways we remember how to be human together.
Art making restores attention
Notifications scatter our minds. Artmaking invites presence. One colour, one stroke, one texture at a time. Practising attention through the hands helps us focus at work, listen at home, and feel less fried by the end of the day.
Art making regulates the body
Stress does not ease through thinking alone. Touch, rhythm and breath settle the nervous system. Clay grounds. Ink and water soften rigid thinking. Repetitive mark making steadies breath and heart rate. A regulated body can learn, connect and choose again.
Art making protects imagination from purely economic logic
Not everything worth doing can be billed or bought. When we create, we remember that value includes meaning, care and beauty. We stop grinding for a moment and ask, what matters to me.
Art making balances the digital with the embodied
Screens help us in many of our tasks today. We tend to sit long hours in front of our desks without paying much attention to our bodies. Our bodies need weight, texture and movement. Smudged charcoal on fingers, paper that bends, scissors that snip. Our hands remind our minds that we are alive when we are not online.
Art making grows empathy and social courage
Stories, images and songs move us beyond our own feed. Sharing a sketch, joining a choir, or working on a mural teaches collaboration, listening and repair. Communities that make together tend to care for each other.
Art making strengthens identity and voice
Algorithms show what is trending. Making art shows what is true and important for you. Choosing colours, materials and themes are practice for choosing boundaries in life. Your artwork says, this is who I am, this is what I will stand for.
Art making helps us think in complex ways
Most of our lives today are busy and messy. Creative practice builds tolerance for not knowing, and skill in testing ideas without fear. Prototyping with cardboard and tape today can make tomorrow’s decisions less rigid and more human.
Art making supports ethical reflection
Tech can do many things quickly. Creative work slows us down long enough to ask whether we should. Art rooms, studios and rehearsal spaces are places where values are named and practised, not only stated.
Art making holds grief and grows hope
News cycles are heavy and research has shown consuming negative news is linked to decreased wellbeing and psychological distress, such as anxiety and uncertainty. Creative rituals carry sorrow without drowning in it. A small altar at home, a memorial collage, a song shared with friends. Artmaking gives shape to feeling and creates space for hope to return.
Art making belongs to everyday people
You do not need expensive tools. Tape, paper, recycled cardboard, clay, used teabags, found leaves and pressed flowers. Art making is the note in your lunch break, the doodle in a meeting, the banner at a NAIDOC week rally march, the chalk message on the footpath after school.
What this means in therapy
In art therapy we use all of this on purpose. We start with safety and consent. We work at your pace. We let images hold what words cannot yet carry. Over time you can expect more calm, clearer boundaries and a stronger sense of self. For NDIS participants, art making can support goals like daily regulation, community participation and safer communication of needs.
Why I practise art therapy through a decolonial approach
I came to art therapy as a migrant and a person shaped by non Western ways of knowing. My family stories were carried through Buddhist and Taoist temple visits, songs, recipes and conversations passed down in different languages and dialects. Those stories guided how we healed, how we gathered, and how we made meaning. When I started clinical art therapy training, I felt the gap between what was familiar to my culture, identity and community compared to what was presented as universal. A decolonial approach is how I choose to bridge this gap. It is not only a philosophy but a daily practice of remembering where knowledge comes from, who holds power, and how care can be shared.
What decolonial practice means to me
I begin with place and people. I am an art therapist practising my craft in Darwin, Larrakia. I acknowledge the sovereignty of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples and seek local guidance. In my work with First Nations children, I prioritise building relationships with Elders and knowledge holders. I also accept direction about what is and is not mine to do.
I share power. The First Nations children I worked with decide what to make, whether they wish to keep or leave it, and who can see it. We agree in plain language about consent, image use and the life of the artwork. Consent is ongoing and can be withdrawn.
I honour cultural and intellectual property. Designs, stories, songs and images belong to people and Country. I do not copy sacred motifs or styles in my own work as this is cultural appropriation. I seek permission and credit properly if images were used.
I respect language and pace. English is often the third or fourth language for Aboriginal Australians. The children often taught me words in their language and laughed because I struggled with pronunciation. I speak multiple languages myself as a Malaysian and appreciate how Indigenous Australian children navigate both the Western world and their cultural ways through speaking fluidly between languages. I also slow my rhythm to match what feels safe. Silence, parallel making and gentle endings are welcome.
I centre collective wellbeing. Aboriginal Australians share complex kinship network structure. I rarely do one-on-one session with Indigenous children in remote community as collective wellbeing is integral to the wellbeing of the individual child. I explore community issues with a group of children in Indigenous community.
I stay accountable. I seek cultural supervision, invite feedback from local women and stakeholders, and repair when I cause harm. Reflection and learning are part of every week.
How this shapes the room
The studio is set up for choice. You can choose your materials, your level of privacy, and the amount of talking. We agree on pause and stop signals. We decide together how works are held, shared or returned.
Materials and themes are selected with care. We source ethically, support Indigenous owned suppliers when possible, and avoid token imagery. Place based making, for example, ochre or charcoal, is used only with permission.
Stories are held with dignity. You are the author of your story. I do not publish or exhibit without informed, specific and reversible consent. If you change your mind, we honour that.
Outcomes are meaningful. Rather than measuring only symptom reduction, we look for change that matters to you, for example steadier nervous system regulation, pride in identity, stronger family connection, or safer expression of grief and joy.
Why this matters for my clients
Decolonial practice widens what counts as knowledge and healing. It reduces pressure to fit a narrow idea of normal. It invites ways of making that feel familiar to many cultures, and it makes space for sovereignty over your story. For clients who have experienced systemic racism, micro aggression, migration stress or intergenerational trauma, this approach can offer steadier ground, more agency, and a kinder pace for recovery.
An invitation
If this approach resonates with you, I welcome a conversation. We can begin with a short meet and greet to check the fit, talk about language and cultural needs, and design a first session that feels respectful. Your knowledge is welcome in this room. Your story remains yours.
How art therapy can be neurodivergent- affirming
Why this matters
If you are autistic, ADHD, AuDHD, dyslexic, or otherwise neurodivergent, you deserve care that honours your brain and body. A neurodivergent affirming approach sees neurotype as natural human variation. It centres your strengths, it adapts the environment, and it supports your goals without asking you to mask.
Here is what neurodivergent-affirming art therapy looks like in practice.
Core stance
Person led and rights based. You choose the goals, pace and methods. Consent is ongoing, and you can change your mind at any time. This aligns with NDIS Practice Standards that emphasise person centred supports, dignity, and informed choice. NDIS Quality and Safeguards Commission+1
Therapy through making. Art therapy uses creative processes inside a safe therapeutic relationship. It can support emotional, cognitive, physical and spiritual wellbeing, and it sits comfortably with diverse cultural models of health. anzacata.org+1
Collaboration, not compliance. The client is the expert on themselves. Art therapy adapts to your communication style and sensory needs, rather than expecting you to mask or conform. Australian Psychological Society
How sessions can be affirming
Interests first. We build sessions around your passions, for example trains, insects, or game worlds, using them as themes or materials to boost engagement and joy.
Choice of materials and set up. You select tools that feel good to your body, for example smooth markers, soft pastels, clay, or digital drawing. We provide options for seated, standing, floor, or movement based making.
Sensory safety. We adjust light, sound, smells and textures. You can use noise reducing headphones, sunglasses, gloves, aprons, and take movement or quiet breaks whenever you wish.
All communication is valid. Speak, sign, type, use AAC, draw, or point. We use visual schedules, first then plans, and clear endings. The NDIS requires accessible communication and informed choice, which we honour in every session. NDIS Quality and Safeguards Commission+1
Stimming is welcome. Repetitive mark making, rhythmic drumming, kneading clay and fidgets can regulate the nervous system and are built into activities rather than discouraged.
Executive function support. We co create step by step visual guides, timers, predictable routines, and gentle scaffolds for task switching and transitions.
Trauma aware, restraint free. We avoid compliance led goals. Safety plans focus on regulation and agency, not restriction. This aligns with human rights based approaches in disability support. NDIS Review
Culture, identity and context matter. We invite your cultural practices, languages and spiritual worlds into the making process, so the therapy fits you, not the other way round.
Transparent outcomes. Together we choose outcomes that feel meaningful to you, for example energy management, sensory strategies that work, self advocacy, or joy in creativity. These can feed into your NDIS goals and reviews. NDIS Quality and Safeguards Commission
Examples of affirming & therapeutic art processes
Sensory regulating making. Large paper with broad strokes, weighted tools, clay work, water based inks, or collage with varied textures.
Story worlds. Build characters or zines from your special interests to explore identity and communication safely.
Choice based projects. A personal studio project where you decide the brief, materials, and when to pause or stop.
Low demand days. Quiet parallel making together with minimal verbal processing, then short debrief using visuals.
Bookings and referrals
You can self refer, or come via a GP, support coordinator, or school. Sessions can be funded through NDIS if applicable.
A gentle closing
Your way of sensing, thinking and moving is not a problem to fix. Art therapy offers a place to create on your own terms, to discover what helps your body and mind, and to be fully yourself.
How Art Therapy Boosts Feel Good Brain Chemicals
In TJ Power’s DOSE model, mood and motivation are lifted by four brain chemicals: dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin and endorphins. Art therapy is a gentle way to engage each one through choice, creativity and connection.
Dopamine, the motivation and reward spark
Art making lights up the brain’s reward network, even with simple doodling. That sense of “I did it” boosts drive to begin again. Try short, finishable tasks, two minute sketch, then pause to notice the win. Drexel University
Art therapy encourages the participant to take the lead and decide the direction of the art-making and creative process. This deepens one’s sense of pride and in turns, boosts dopamine! Choice, novelty and visible progress support drive and follow through.
Oxytocin, the bonding and safety chemical
Creating art together with a loved one, side by side drawing or a shared canvas, can lift oxytocin and increase closeness. Build small rituals, swap encouraging words, co-title the artwork, or create with a trusted person. Neuroscience News
Making art in the safe space an art therapist holds and maintains encourage bonding and boosts oxytocin. Shared attention, gentle attunement and feeling believed are foundations for feeling safe in an art therapy session.
Serotonin, the mood stabiliser
Serotonin tracks with daylight. Make art in morning or midday light, by a window, on a balcony, or outdoors. Use steady, predictable routines, same opening prompt, same closing title, to support calm mood over time. The Lancet
Art therapy in an outdoor space early in the morning light helps boosts serotonin and regulate body clock.
Endorphins, the natural pain and stress relievers
Rhythm and shared laughter help endorphins rise. Try slow bilateral marks to music, rolling and pressing clay in time, or a playful collaborative collage that invites smiles. University of Turku+1
In group art therapy or one-one-one session with an art therapist, group synchrony and shared laughter ease tension and release endorphins.
Lowering the brakes helps the boosters
Art-making often reduce cortisol within about forty five minutes, which can make it easier for the feel good chemicals to do their work. Keep sessions paced and pressure free.
DOSE inspired mini plan you can use this weekend
Dopamine, 5 minutes. Quick win postcard. One tiny drawing, then a photo for the progress album.
Oxytocin, 10 minutes. Side by side art with a loved one. Take turns adding one line and saying one kind thing about the other person’s mark.
Serotonin, 10 minutes. Sunlit sketch. Sit by a bright window and trace the shadow of a plant, breathe slowly as you draw.
Endorphins, 5 minutes. Music marks. Choose a gentle song. Make slow, repetitive strokes across big paper, then write down one thing that felt good.