The Art of Healing

Essay
By: Elin Karlsson

The English translation of the text Konsten att läka, also published in Utställningskritik.

When you visit the Scrovegni Chapel in Padua, you step from the calm Italian cobbled streets into a climate-controlled room. Inside, the air feels cool, not as humid as outside. It is also quiet in the room; no one is chatting, but rather sitting calmly, waiting.

As you sit there with the other visitors, you might wonder about what you are soon to see. Giotto's 700-year-old paintings, their blue pigmentation, and perhaps even what Giotto himself felt and thought when he was at this exact spot over half a millennium ago.

After five minutes in the waiting room, you are allowed to step into the chapel to view the frescoes. You enter in small groups, no more than 25 people, sharing the experience under the blue vaulted sky. It smells as earthy as only lime-plastered walls near the Mediterranean can.

The airlock system is designed to protect the temperature-sensitive interior, a method of preserving artworks used in museums around the world. When we think about how museums and art institutions can work with care, I wonder, can we learn anything from the Scrovegni Chapel’s thoughtful system? Can we draw lessons from the care pause and the exceptional respect for the art and its fragility, and apply that to take care of ourselves when we visit art?

I have worked for many years with trauma processing through creativity, and through my work, I have seen how principles such as pausing, nurturing, and reflecting are embedded in trauma-informed approaches within the areas I work in, namely creative arts and practice-based research. But what does this work look like if we transfer it to mediation practices within museums? And how can museums take their extensive knowledge of caring for artworks and apply the same principles to their visitors? To address this question, I want to first better understand trauma and why we should reflect on its role in our lives.

When we hear the word trauma, we might primarily think of the violence that physically wounds our bodies, the kind that makes us bleed, scream, or flee. But trauma is more complex than that. I prefer Peter Levine's definition, which focuses on trauma as a somatic experience. Levine explains that trauma is what was too much, too soon, or too fast for our nervous system. Trauma is also what is too much over too long a time, when our nervous system does not have time to recover but instead experiences a constant threat. Trauma can also be what does not happen, meaning when we do not receive the care we need.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, the reality of trauma became apparent to many of us. When we suddenly, involuntarily, and unexpectedly found ourselves outside our normal contexts, without the sense of community that usually regulates our nervous systems, many experienced what could be described as trauma and thus came to understand what it might be like to live with trauma. That is to say, the reality of a situation without clear timeframes that we did not choose ourselves, which can create a deep sense of alienation, of not belonging, a feeling of helplessness, and fear for the future.

Often, the art we encounter is born from traumatic experiences that the artist then depicts. Perhaps the process of creating the art itself has been therapeutic for the artist. Most of us have had traumatic experiences, and these traumas can be unresolved, causing intense reactions much later, in seemingly unrelated situations – such as, for example, during a visit to a museum. Furthermore, museums and art institutions, both in their architecture and organisation, are often hierarchical, which in itself can be perceived as violent for someone with trauma, and therefore it is worth bearing in mind during mediation work.

However, art can also be an antidote to trauma, and museums are places with the capacity to create community around shared experiences. They are places that can foster a sense of belonging, which can be incredibly healing. I agree with the American writer and critic bell hooks, who says that healing occurs when we come together in groups. That art experiences can have a positive impact on our health has been supported in recent years by research, such as the report Creative Health: The Arts for Health and Wellbeing. The 2017 UK report highlights the health-promoting, or salutogenic, effects of art.

Within trauma-informed mediation work, three focus areas are typically highlighted: 1) recognising everyone’s vulnerability, 2) slowing the pace, and 3) focusing on accessibility. All these steps aim to create an environment where people can exist with their trauma and approach situations with care and respect for everyone’s unique perspectives. Working in a trauma-informed way is not about avoiding difficult subjects for fear of upsetting people, but rather about establishing environments where the uncomfortable can be given space.

Through this, art can help individuals heal. Even MoMA in New York has placed significant emphasis on the therapeutic effects of art, where they have also worked with trauma-informed mediation methods since the pandemic. Through the programme Artful Practices for Well-Being, MoMA worked on how art experiences can create community with the hope that participants might find healing. Within this programme, MoMA has developed work that makes space for everyone’s vulnerabilities. It’s about slowing the pace through slow, meditative guided tours and joint readings of art. They also invite individuals to participate in these discussions who have traditionally been excluded from the hierarchies of museums.

Art mediator Jackie Armstrong from MoMA has been central to this work. Armstrong says she has noticed that the trauma-informed approach and art mediation have benefited all visitors, not just those with trauma.

For trauma-informed mediation work to happen, it requires active engagement from the museum, with a clear intention to centre trauma in its practice. Perhaps it is because museums are places where people from different backgrounds, from all over the world and life experiences, come together, both physically and online, that museums must realise their role and responsibility as democratic actors in a sustainable society. This of course includes a responsibility to visitors, but by taking trauma-informed responsibility for their employees as well, insights and approaches can spread, like ripples in water. Museums must be changeable and accountable places, listening to societal needs rather than making decisions based on preconceived notions. Within trauma-informed thinking, we replace the question "What is wrong with you?" with "What happened to you?" One is simply open and curious about the people we meet, eager to learn from their unique perspectives and experiences.

For example, within mediation work, if we highlight sensitive content in printed materials or on websites, we ask visitors to pause and consider whether the content in an exhibition is right for them. This also requires that the institution has reflected on and considered the works being displayed, and that they have thought about this from a trauma perspective. The root of this work is not to avoid big, sensitive issues, but to bravely approach these conversations in a way that everyone feels welcome to participate. In these conversations, we must meet as fellow human beings, from a perspective of respect and care, in the same way we treat the artworks we gather around.

Elin Karlsson

Dr Elin Karlsson is a Swedish-British artist and researcher specialising in trauma processing through art. In her doctoral thesis The Art of the Bodge, she explores how memories can be examined through autoethnographic and trauma-informed creation, with a particular focus on protest and fragility.