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One afternoon in March 22 I found myself at Gropius Bau Berlin in the middle of a room filled with large black and white photography - all self-portraits of the visual activist Zanele Muholi, dressed up in household utensils, starring at me with an intense gaze. It was there and then when I felt a shiver going through my body, making me understand that Muholi’s work shown in their first comprehensive solo exhibition had more to do with me, than I anticipated. Since the early 2000s Muholi has been documenting the lives of South Africa's Black LGBTQIA+ community in powerful, intimate photographs. I was overwhelmed by what I saw and deeply touched. With Muholi investigating their own identity I gained a deep understanding of mine. What I felt at that very moment was the power Muholi’s work had on me.
That was the power of art.
When we look at art that makes us feel something - whether that be pain, joy or surprise - we immediately understand the power that art holds within. It is the power to change how we view the world or ourselves, the power to truly feel, the power to question, the power to understand. Art can have a wonderful soothing effect on our body and mind and at the same time, it has the ability to stir everything we thought we knew up, so that we are left with nothing but the deep understanding, that we actually know very little. I knew there was more to their work, than what met my eye that day, so I started doing some research. I read about Muholi and their biography and started writing about it. The bits and pieces of information I could find about them formed a story that led me to change the way I viewed their photography.
When we pursue the urge to look at art, we most likely are in search for something, something other than what we can find in books, the internet or schools. Whether we are looking for answers or the right questions we need to asks ourselves, something pulls us towards art and it is not likely the monetary value of the piece. Yet we find ourselves in a world dominated by money. And make no mistake, the art world is no difference. The increasing power that money has over the art world changes the way we perceive art. It also makes us tend to forget that what we are looking at, is no finite production.
Damien Hirst’s ‚The Currency’ made very clear what contemporary art is going through right now. 10.000 handmade art pieces full of colorful dots reveal the speculation game in it’s extremes. They came with a price tag of 2.000 US$ each and a digital certificate in form of an NFT. All the buyers were given a year to think about whether they want the original work and loose the NFT or have the work being burnt and keep the NFT. Months after the artworks went on sale more than 1.800 resales cultivated a revenue of almost 40 Mio US$. 4.851 of the 10.000 buyers chose the NFT - hence chose that the original work would be burnt by Hirst himself. What Hirst called an experiment with the blurred boarders between money and art points directly towards the forgotten value it. The way art is being used as a currency, as a form of speculation, shows how crazy we are about a ‚product‘. And isn’t that just another outgrowth of productivity culture? Sylvain Levy states that ‚[M]any buyers buy contemporary art with the expectation that they can make quick money by “flipping” it – as long as they have “invested” in the right artist.'
Learning about Muholi’s process behind their photography changed how I saw their work. Understanding the struggles they had to go through in order to create their work gave it a rather dramatic appearance. And also showed huge vulnerability. When the color of skin, sexuality or gender are the reasons you face discrimination and make you a target for crime and hatred, showing yourself in great dimensions isn’t just bravery. It becomes a political act. By appropriating the archival process of photography, Muholi takes a major step of self-empowerment. It was all the more touching for me to see the creative handling of Muholi's traumatic experiences, and also to draw inspiration from them.
As an art therapist it is my job to find meaning in the work I get to see. The simple fact that we as humans have the ability or better said the urge to create opens so many doors into understanding why we are brought to this life. Yet we need to figure out a way to make use of this gift. We can be taught by the colors or shapes we manifest, by the symbols that appear on our canvas, by the size and structure of the sculptures we stand across. But when I look at my creations I feel that I can learn just as much from the process of the creation as from the „final result“.
The process of art making plays an important role in art therapy. Every action we take on within the artistic process has something to do with relationships. Meaning we tend to see ourselves and this world in relation to the other. We differentiate, we compare, we like, we dislike. How we feel about another person teaches us a lot more about ourselves than it does about the other. Getting angry at what someone said to us and lashing out at them most likely helps us uncover something that was hidden in our subconsciousness at that time. The South African psychoanalyst Zelda Knight wrote: “Our clients will always be well-matched for us for, if we are open, they will dig into those unprocessed corners of our psyches and demand that we spend time looking at ourselves, too.”
The same goes for art. When we create we always seek that sweet spot of flow, where everything just seems to be falling right into place and where we feel present and focused. That’s what gives us the dopamine hit, what tells us to do more of it and that simply makes us feel good about ourselves. But creation is not always flow. It is also uncertainty, it is also self doubt, it is anger and fear and disappointment - it is excitement and being overwhelmed. It’s love. It’s a whole range of experiences. And whenever it gets hard, whenever frustration rises, I like to take a closer look inside. Because that’s where I learn. That’s where I understand.
That’s where the process of art making becomes somewhat revealing.
What’s astonishing about art is that you can get mad at it all you want. You can scream and you can shout, there’s simply no reason to hold back. It’s never gonna turn away from you or abandon you because you are not ‚good enough‘ or ‚well behaved‘. It’s never gonna scream back it you. So all the emotions you shall feel towards your art, how valid or real they may be, won’t have any real consequences. In the relationship with art you can be you in all your facets. Whatever it is that you feel, the art will just sit with you through it and when the dust settles it will still be there. And when you let it, it will also guide you through those emotions and help you overcome the difficulties you see in your work - which very often have a lot to do with the difficulties you see in life.
This is where art acts as an understanding parent, filled with unconditional love to spill. Besides all that gentleness, it will still keep it’s brutal honesty towards you, it won’t hide the truth. Whatever you get to see comes right from the inside of you. And if you are interested enough in the process of other artists, you might have a similar experience, teachings that would’ve otherwise been kept hidden from you.
Although there are many theories about the process of art making, it will always remain somewhat mystical to us. There is something about it, we will never be able to put into words. And that goes beyond the effects of art making on our nervous and endocrine system. It goes beyond the decrease of cortisol levels and heart rate. Even beyond neuroplasticity.
Creating is in itself deeply spiritual.
Of course there is nothing wrong with buying art as a financial investment with the expectancy of financial return. A business mindset can be very useful in the kind of world we live in. It is though the unique focus on the outcome of art which might leave you with less than art actually has to offer. To me art has always been a way of living. Considering the creative life, the life lived by artists and many other people who wouldn’t refer to themselves as such, cannot be summarized as a single moment, but rather is a lifelong transformation, it makes sense to understand the artwork as a process itself. Or if you want a mere side product of the artistic life.
As we tend to overlook the process of creation, we oversee the hours spent in the studio, the many many scribbles, that lead to the work. The underlying paintings that stepped back in order to bring a new idea to light. The moments of frustration and fear and setbacks. We don’t get to see the deleted chapters of a book nor do we witness the smashing of sculptures that were not meant to persist. And yet they all conclude to the piece of art, that we look at and maybe even love so much.
And that one art piece? It is easy to indulge in the foolish thought that it is a consistent end product. The truth is, even that will fade, even that will be outgrown by the always evolving artist. The transformation of the artist is just as inevitable as the transformation of the artwork itself.
And yet we attach to paintings or sculptures or songs. We look at them over and over again, we listen, we touch, we read. But have you ever witnessed how your own feelings about art changed with time? How a song that used to bring you to tears now leaves you with the light sweetness of nostalgia? How a painting that you once connected with beauty, after years reveals a dark side?
Just like the artist, just like their work, you also cannot and will not stay the same.
The more I wrote on Muholi’s work, the closer I got - not only to them but also to the people they photographed in such an exquisite and intime way. Art is a way of communication, of addressing important and pressing topics, of trying to understand oneself or the world around. By finding out more about Muholi’s upbringing and their heritage my brain started connecting dots and painted a picture of what I was seeing. Soon their work started telling me a story about race related trauma, about a child whose father died under unknown circumstances just after their birth, about an absent mother, working so hard that there was barely any time to spend with her child. About an upbringing while Apartheid was falling apart, and amid protests and the turmoil of upheaval made it almost impossible to navigate the unfamiliar territory of queerness.
It also told a story about love, commitment and community and what marginalized groups are capable of, when they build meaningful connections. How art can help one heal although the scars might me forever visible. And even though that might just be the story of Muholi and the South African LGBTQIA+ Community they portrayed - yet it can be transferred to all of us. The way Muholi used the camera as what can be interpreted as a ‚third eye’ - an additional witness to their life - made it clear that where Muholi needed layers to create distance between them and the person portrayed, we as observers get the chance to get even closer.
Art is a playing field in which we can try out and manifest the experience of our existence.
The benefit of being an art therapist is that I get to be part of that playing field. I get to witness the process of creating. I’m there for the trials and tribulations that come with creation and I get to assist and support that process. Observing it truly is a gift because I can learn so much from it. Creation is always about relationship. It is formed by the way we approach the material, the emotions that arise during that process and the way we engage with our work. As with all other things, art is more than meets the eye.
But it is a great way to help you better understand yourself, not only by the act of creation but also by simply looking at art. For the future I invite you to ask yourself, what it is, that appeals to you most, when you look at art. What is it, that interests you in a certain piece and how does it make you feel? And then after a while return to that artwork and ask yourself the same questions.
Some things might change, some things remain the same.
Maybe the other half of the buyers of Hirt’s „The Currency“ will hang their purchase on their living room wall and feel blessed and filled with joy by all the colorful work. Or maybe the physical work will at some point gain value and will make for a profitable sell. Maybe the owners even learn something about the way they value art or how they feel about money and what financial status means to them. Will it reveal anything about their own self image? Their motive to gamble?
Whenever I enjoy the process of art making for itself, I am also more satisfied with the outcome. It makes no sense to me to force something into a certain form, that I would aesthetically enjoy or think would be appreciated by others. What makes sense is to completely let go. Dive into the process and observe my own transformation over time.
I also believe focusing on art as a process will also allow so-called non-artists to creatively express themselves with more ease. Because everyone can engage in that process. It is not reserved for the ‚professionals’. Constant transformation will allow a playful way of creation.
I encourage you to try it out.
Paint something that won’t stay. That nobody gets to look at. Write something, that you will delete later. Dance in a hidden spot. And while doing that, give everything you have. Extract the part, where your work is being judged, where it’s value is being claimed and yet do your best. It will feel weird at first but it will also grant you something extremely precious: The moment you can see more than simply (economical) value in art, the value of the work automatically increases in dimensions you would’ve never imagined.
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