The Art Session

The Art Session

Gavin is determined to keep track of everything from now on. He feels that the little black book he received from Ellen is just the job. What happened and how did he end up in this place? Time is slipping by and he is none the wiser.

It is a proper little notebook, soft and fine to the touch. It is so very black that it reminds him of a black hole, absorbing all the light that falls on it. And it has a bit of weight to it too. He wonders if the book will actually weigh more when it’s filled with writing? Anyway, he wants to make another entry: “13:15, had lunch. St Michael’s.”

Gavin closes the little book and wonders if he ever wrote anything about Ellen’s last visit. Was it not she who had given him the book in the first place? No one could ask for a better sister than Ellen. If only his thoughts and memories weren’t like broken shards, scrambling around in a spooky, dark kaleidoscope.

He sees that guy with paint on his trousers come walking across the dining hall towards him. Gavin notices that he’s suddenly feeling good, for no apparent reason. The feeling does not last though, but soon gets replaced by feelings of guilt. He feels guilty for not remembering the guy’s name, and there is an awkward anticipation about the imminent conversation. Gavin kinda knows they have met before and wonders if he ever wrote anything about him in his little black book.

On arriving at his table the artist asks: “Would you like to help by carrying some stuff over to the art room for me?” “Yes.” Gavin replies, looking down on the floor in order not to meet the artist’s eyes. What the hell was his name? Gavin notices himself sweating a little and clumsily gets up, picks up a large portfolio and increases his distance from the artist as they walk down the hall together.

“I love the drawings you made last week. Are you going to do more to them, or are you going to start some new ones?” The artist asks. But Gavin does not remember last week or making any drawings. Again he wonders if he wrote anything in his book.

On their way they are loudly greeted by Martha. Gavin does not like Martha and moves to the other side of the art-man as soon as she joins them. Martha always shouts.

“Good morning Gavin.” she exclaims in her usual, sharp voice. “It’s afternoon” Gavin quietly replies. He knows this because he had only just written the time in his little black book that Ellen had given him, which now might weigh a tiny bit more than it did before he wrote it down - or did it? Gavin’s thoughts meandered.

The art-man asks Martha: “Are you going to make some more of your wonderful rainbow paintings today?” Gavin stops walking for a second and considers writing down the name ‘Martha’ in his book, but immediately starts walking again. Gavin doesn’t like Martha. They arrive at the art room.

The spacious room is full of light. It overlooks a landscaped garden and a few people are already quietly waiting. Some of them are older and others much the same age as Gavin. The art-man starts unpacking his bags, revealing paper, pencils, crayons and paints. A lady in a blue tunic leaves the room once she is certain that Mark, the art-man, is OK to take it from here.

After some shuffling and sorting, with Mark making sure everyone has everything they need, Gavin finds himself sitting in front of his drawings from the week before, with pencils at the ready. Mark, the room and all the other people completely disappear. It is just Gavin and his drawings, and the drawings seem to be looking at him. It is as though someone has turned on a television set or a cinema screen. It is all coming alive in front of his eyes. Suddenly he knows exactly what happened. He knows who did it, what they did, and how his world crumbled. Cold, silent tears are flowing down his cheeks. Mark, in the middle of tutoring one of the others, sees Gavin quietly sobbing over his drawings.

Gavin does not notice Mark coming up beside him, bending down gently and asking him if he is doing OK. Mark stays calm, although he knows that Gavin must be working through something. He also knows that he is not trained to deal with any episodes.

“Would you like to talk?” Gavin hears Mark ask more than once before he registers that he is even standing there. “They hurt me.” Gavin says. “They hurt me so much I wanted to die.”

“Do you want to die now?” Mark hears himself ask, knowing very well how unwise this question may turn out to be, not having a clue what he would do if Gavin replied yes to that question. But Gavin said “No.” followed by a long pause, silent as a blank sheet of paper. “Do you want to paint a new picture?” Mark eventually asks. Gavin quietly responds “Can I have some paints please?”

So Mark quickly sets Gavin up with some paper, paints - a choice of colours, brushes, water and some rags. Mark knows what he is doing when it comes to art workshops. He facilitates each session with materials that are fully compatible. The right paper for the paint and a selection of brushes that all work well together. That way his people would, at least, find themselves succeeding with the technical aspects of their paintings, giving them every chance to tell their story well.

No one knows that Gavin had been severely abused when he was a child. Gavin had buried this nightmare, this unexploded bomb, in his heart. Then Gavin’s mother suddenly died two years ago, and the experience had pulled the rug out from under him. He fell into a deep depression and has not been able to string two coherent thoughts together since. His sister Ellen also has no idea what really caused Gavin’s sudden mental breakdown, apart from the obvious loss of their mother. She loves her older brother, her only sibling, more than words can say, and this unconditional devotion is the only thing holding Gavin from giving up completely.

The drawings from the previous week resemble shreds of memories from his early childhood. He had drawn them in a kind of trance. They don’t show anything specific, but in it are the people who had made him feel so utterly worthless all those years ago. Looking at his drawings now is bringing everything back, just as though someone was switching on a light in the dark halls of his painful past. Dark clouds are gathering in the sky of Gavin’s tormented soul.

Mark sets up the painting stuff for Gavin in a flash. There is a large sheet of cartridge paper taped to the table in front of him. Gavin is already turning the lid on one of the tubes of acrylic paint, opening it to squeeze the contents onto the big palette. There is water to thin the paints and water to clean the brushes. In a trance of pain and rage Gavin unleashes all the energy of his trapped emotions onto the page. In a frenzy of red and black he begins to excrete the unwanted contents of his wounded heart and mind.

He shouts, cries and bangs. Mark is unsure if he should call one of the staff to help him, or if he should trust Gavin to work it out for himself. He settles for the latter and simply tries to keep the others entertained while Gavin faces his past.

Soon Gavin fills several sheets of paper with wild and angry strokes in dark and ominous colours. Mark struggles to find places for them all to dry - not all the paint ends up on the paper either. With trust in the process, and with Gavin’s obvious passion, all the trauma pours out onto the pages in front of him. Gavin gradually feels less and less angry and eventually stops.

For a long time he just sits there. Then, his sky clears, the sobbing subsides, and slowly a new and different series of paintings unfolds, so alive with harmony and creative energy that the other participants are drawn to silently watch in awe. With the enthusiasm of a summer fountain and the colour spectrum of an exotic tropical aquarium, bright expressions of life and joy cascade from Gavin’s painting. When he finally finishes and looks up, he is surrounded by smiling faces with tears in their eyes.

The setting sun now fills the room. Mark is tidying up the art-room. Staff come and guide patients back to their rooms or to their appointments with other therapy sessions, as they have their own demons to deal with. But for Gavin something changes forever. Not right away or overnight, but from this moment his heart feels freer. He consciously and deliberately decides to forgive the people who had treated him so cruelly. He properly grieves the loss of his mother, and his ability to remember gradually and fully returns. With the help of Ellen and his little black book, Gavin gradually recovers all the important pieces of his life - a life now full of creativity and love. Incredibly, he was able to use painting as a ritual to exorcise debilitating emotions from his soul.

A couple of weeks after that painting session in ‘St. Michael’s Hospital For The Mentally Ill’, Mark receives a visit from Ellen. She turns up just as he is about to disappear, once again, into his art room. They have a short and meaningful chat. Ellen thanks Mark most sincerely for the profound impact that he had on Gavin’s recovery. She hands him an envelope which obviously contains a card. Mark is delighted upon hearing about Gavin’s transformation and when Ellen leaves, he walks on into the art-room. He had always known about the untapped powers of art, and feels confirmed and validated. For him there is nothing more satisfying than to see how art can open windows of imagination and creativity, throwing healing light on shadowed lives.

But when Mark arrives home that evening he is greeted by a bunch of bills and payment reminders. Perhaps, he thinks, it is time to get a real job. He is only doing the art sessions at St Michael’s as a volunteer and, much that he loves it, and much that they appreciate having him there, it is not a paid job.

He turns to Ellen’s card to give himself a boost. To his surprise he finds that, as well as a card, there is also a cheque. While holding the still folded cheque in his hand he reads.

Dear Mark,

Massive, Massive Thanks

 for what you did for my big brother!

I’ll never forget it.

Gavin is back! He paints all the time now,

so what is left of our family is better than ever.

Our mum left us a fair amount of money but

it meant nothing without Gavin!

Please accept a big thank you from the both of us!

And don’t worry!

What you did for us is worth way more than this.

Love and very best wishes,

Ellen and Gavin

The cheque was made out in his name for the life changing amount of £20.000!