I know a widower raising an eight-year-old daughter. He’s concerned because six-months after his wife’s death, his daughter hasn’t said a word about her. Certainly, I’ve continued to pray for these two, but I also was heartened by the girl’s extracurricular activities and her summer plans.
Because, to my mind, it’s all about using the arts to heal.
The girl has chosen to swim on a team, take art lessons and continue on the piano.
I say, “thanks be to God,” because I believe that’s where she is working out her grief.
At least in my opinion, and that’s all the rest of this blog post is–it’s not about this particular little girl, but about how creating art can help us heal.
Even when we don’t realize it.
Think about my favorite book of the Bible, the Psalms. I love how David pours out his emotion in his songs/poetry. So many times he starts out angry and violent with his imprecatory psalms, calling down all of God’s powers to destroy someone who has hurt or wronged him.
You can see how venting his emotion helps. In several psalms, he begins in a forlorn spot feeling sorry for himself and whines, as in Psalm 13:
How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever?
How long will You hide Your face from me?
But while he starts there, David moves on to explain his thoughts and fears, works through his emotions, and chooses wholeness by the end:
I have trusted in Your mercy;
My heart shall rejoice in Your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord,
Because He has dealt bountifully with me.
That’s the power of art to heal.
In the case of the little girl above, think how helpful a swim team would be. All that anger can be churned out in the water–swimming to exhaustion– and the pain will ebb. That’s why I usually clean house when I’m upset or when I’m grieving. I tell myself, if all else fails, I’ll use this energy to good purpose.
It’s amazing how much better I feel afterwards, not to mention the house is clean or cookies are baked.
My daughter used to bang tennis balls against the side of the house, perfecting her game. At the same age, I played the piano by the hour–pouring out my frustrations in the dramatic Beethoven, the mournful Chopin or sometimes in a dark, low-noted piece I wrote and pounded out myself.
Honestly, my family should have been able to figure out how I felt by the piano music!
Maybe they did.
Edvard Munch‘s “The Scream,” depicted at the top of this post, has been used (and misused) to demonstrate the horror of a shriek against evil. You can feel the emotion in that painting.
Francis Schaeffer used to talk about Pablo Picasso‘s paintings and how you could see the
deconstruction of his life in the type of paintings he did. During his early years he was happy–the painting he made of his wife nursing a baby is a familiar one.
But as his life began to fall apart and he broke up his family, his paintings began to shatter–and reflect the confusion in his normal. I’ve always thought he was painting out an anguish few could see–and then, of course, people bought it as art.
I’m happy to report the little girl above is an amazing artist, truly stunning for her age. And the pictures are happy ones: a cat, a bird, flowers. Maybe someday she’ll process her grief in a different way, but right now I think she’s doing just fine.
And by giving her the tools, and the permission to grieve in her own way and in her own timing, I think this family sets an example for all of us.
God gave us emotions to express–the question is, how can we use art to heal and express them best?
Thoughts? Reactions? Lurker?