The Changing Shape of Art Therapy
New Developments in Theory and Practice Edited by Andrea Gilroy and Gerry McNeilly
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A Practical Art Therapy
Susan I. Buchalter
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Creative Advances in Groupwork
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Strategies from Music Therapy Mercédès Pavlicevic
Group Analytic Art Therapy
Gerry McNeilly
Foreword by Malcolm Pines
Jessica Kingsley Publishers London and Philadelphia
Sandyford songs, administered by Ten Ten Tunes (ASCAP) and Hornall Brothers Music Ltd. All rights reserved. Used by permission. Words on p.161 from ‘Song of being a child’ by Van Morrison and Peter Handke. Music by Van Morrison. © Copyright control (50%) /Universal Music Publishing Limited (50%). Used by permission. Excerpts on p.208 and pp.211–2 from McLaughlin, M. (1999). Reproduced with permission.
First published in 2006 by Jessica Kingsley Publishers
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Copyright © Gerry McNeilly 2006 Foreword copyright © Malcolm Pines 2006
Cover illustration: Valerie Armstrong
Illustrations on pp.170, 174, 182, 193, 198, 215: Patrick McAlister
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Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
McNeilly, Gerry,
1951-Group analytic art therapy / Gerry McNeilly ; foreword by Malcolm Pines.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN-13: 978-1-84310-301-1 (pbk. : alk. paper) ISBN-10: 1-84310-301-X (pbk. : alk. paper) 1. Art therapy. 2. Group psychotherapy. I. Title. [DNLM: 1. Art Therapy--methods. 2. Psychotherapy, Group --methods. WM 450.5.A8 M4778g 2005]
RC489.A7M3556 2005 616.89'1656--dc22
2005019372
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN-13: 978 1 84310 301 1
ISBN-10: 1 84310 301 X ISBN pdf eBook: 1 84642 457 7 Printed and bound in Great Britain by Athenaeum Press, Gateshead, Tyne and Wear
To my mother, Annie, who struggled
against great odds in her lifetime
Acknowledgements
I want to acknowledge the following people who were part of my pro-fessional development: Bruce Males, who first introduced me to art therapy; Agusta Neff, Risa Brown and Margaret Riley at Foyle Hospital, Derry; my art therapy teachers, John Evans, Felicity Weir and Peter Wey, and my fellow art therapy students from 1975 to 1976. I am especially indebted to Janie Stott who was with me in my first years as an art therapist. In group analysis: Jeff Roberts, who first sparked the interest; Judy Barford and Jean D’Arcy for our early work in the therapeutic community; Drs Malcolm Pines (who also kindly agreed to write the foreword), the late Robin Skynner, Meg Sharpe and Vivienne Cohen; Patrick McGrath, who struggled alongside me in our training together, for his continued friendship and support; Patrick McAlister, my lifelong friend, whom I persuaded to sketch the drawings in this book, based on my descriptions of art work; Beau O’Donnell, for the early years; and Kay Bird, who was always a good critic. Jonathon Wood played a part in working as my co-therapist for a period. Part Two of the book would not have emerged without the influence of Dr Ruy Carvalho and the Portuguese Art Therapy Society. If I brought together all of these people in a group, I wonder what would happen. Finally thanks to Sara Taylor, for typing the manuscript and her helpful administration, and Rachael Warner, for her research input, not forgetting my sister Patricia, brother Peter and cousin Bernadette. A final note of thanks goes to Val Armstrong for painting the cover illustration based on an original idea of mine.
Contents
Foreword by Malcolm Pines 9
Part One: The Origins
11
1 How I started 13
2 Early formulations and developments 24
3 Practical developments 40
4 The group as a whole 49
5 The individual in the group: transference constellations 68
6 Transitions 91
Part Two: The Portuguese papers – new developments
103
7 Introduction: literature review and developments since1990 105
8 That which binds together can also pull apart: new
theory and technique 122
9 Openings 153
10 Cross-fertilization 176
11 The matrix, the pattern and the fullness of emptiness 201
Final remarks 217
REFERENCES 218
SUBJECT INDEX 223
Foreword
I agreed to write a foreword before I read this book. Reading the text has been illuminating, for McNeilly has shed new light on the depths of the group analytic enterprise. Hidden dimensions are revealed by the use of binocular apparatus provided by group analytic art therapy. McNeilly takes the reader on a journey from his Northern Ireland childhood, through musi-cianship, art therapy training and therapeutic community membership, and finally to his group analytic apprenticeship. The apprentice is now a master.
The reader will find a good exposition of the theory of group analysis, spotlighted with vivid phrases: resonance and intuition dualled with dynamic silence and wisdom; complexity and simplicity; the ‘simple’ inter-pretation is built on the grasp of theoretical complexity.
McNeilly adds to our understanding of Foulkes’ concept of resonance and, when he acknowledges the value of improvisation in formulating and delivering interpretations, he develops the principles and methods enunci-ated by Foulkes himself: that interpretations are given in an unfinished form that invites group members to take them over to elaborate for themselves.
The art therapy experience has shown McNeilly the pivotal points of each session that potentially bind or drive apart the latent opposing forces. The group analyst occupies a pivotal position, has the ability and task to affect the group dynamics, the focus constantly moving from polar positions. In preparing this foreword, I have studied this text carefully, finding much of value with which to comprehend the intricacies of our group analytic enterprise. Of those intricacies, McNeilly writes:
Paradoxically, psychotherapy is both a complex and a simple therapy. Existing theory ranges between the complex and the simple, more often the former. I am drawn to finding simple structures of under-standing and intervention within the therapeutic frame. I believe that this is possible only if there is a firm grounding in more complex theory. The simple psychotherapeutic interpretation draws upon historical
roots of theoretical complexity and the appliance of direct and subtle presentations.
I warmly commend this book to art therapists and group analysts alike. This is a rich, readable text that will stimulate thought and enable us to see more clearly the simple in the complex and the complex in the simple.
Malcolm Pines, group analyst and psychoanalyst, founder member of the Institute of Group Analysis and editor of the International Library of Group Analysis
Part One
Chapter 1
How I started
‘I come before you to stand behind you to tell you something I know nothing about.’ This was a saying that my father used when I was a child, but I never knew whether he made it up. I trust that this book will act in a similar way. It is before you, and as my work is complete I stand behind you. In telling you something, there are times when I have felt I know nothing, but I hope that what I offer is enough to describe group analytic art therapy in its theory and practice. I am sure that I am not alone, as most therapists will oscillate between knowing and not knowing.
Some of my earliest memories revolve around groups. During my child-hood, these groupings were the gangs I belonged to in which I became either the ringleader or the clown. On reflection, I can see I was happiest when I adopted archetypal roles, although I was ignorant of this at the time. When my schoolfriends called me professor, this was not in respect of my intellec-tual abilities but because I wore glasses.
In those early days, our street was our playground; the neighbouring streets belonged to other gangs, whom we either joined forces with or fought against. The shed at the back of our family house was often the meeting point for the ‘Harryville Gang’, with varying shades of innocent fun and mischief being brewed and set in motion. These group experiences allowed me to play out my exhibitionism and enthusiasm. Other activities such as the boxing club and the army cadet force were strong group experi-ences. In my early to mid-teens, on Sunday nights, groups of between 100 and 200 teenagers would embark on mystery walks into the surrounding countryside. Each week, a small core, of whom I was one, would make the decision for the mass regarding our destination. There was a struggle, because the person who made the decision always had to have a surprise card up their sleeve to make the trip worthwhile. This could have been anything from hide-and-seek in the local haunted house or a boys-and-girls chase. We would set up the chase in such a way that those who had romantic or sexual
ambitions had good chances of success. We used to call the trips ‘pants’, but I never did remember why – possibly because they filled us with expectation to begin with and exhaustion once it was finished.
Being a young teenager in the 1960s, and with an increasing interest in music, I was soon rocking and rolling with the excitement of the many new musical groups that emerged. By my seventeenth birthday, I had mastered four scales on my saxophone and become a musician. Much earlier, between the ages of seven and ten years, I recall going into public houses with my father and drawing portraits of the old men in there. I made what I felt was a fortune at the time and all the lemonade I could consume.
In trying to view these early experiences from a group analytic perspec-tive, I think that such strong group experiences had a containing capacity that helped me deal with my own childhood experiences. My artistic and musical strivings were, in part, a creation from, and reaction against, these early experiences. Many of the happy memories I have from my childhood were in relation to different groups. There was also an awareness that even though the pictures of my memory are placed in group settings, I still needed time to be on my own. At such times, I was seen to be rather odd, especially if I didn’t talk to anyone for a day or two. It is with these two aspects in mind that I will explore the balance of tensions between the individual and the group.
I recall with fondness my training in art therapy in St Albans, England. As this was my first step into the world of academia and art combined, I was unaware of what would develop over the next 30 years. Although I was unconscious of it, the question of myself as an individual with the images I produced in my artwork and the ‘group as a whole’ were beginning to formulate. In this context, the large group was that of my fellow students and the college staff.
The art therapy training course went some way towards looking at group dynamics, but this was confined mainly to experiential verbal groups, apart from one art group. With the other experiential art therapy groups, little or no attention was placed on the group processes. I will focus upon two aspects of those groups that I believe set me on course for working with groups and that ultimately contributed to my own group analytic approach. These two points were based on my experiences in these groups, which were led by two originators and renowned art therapists in England – a man and a woman leading different groups. Although much is owed to each of them, my own experiences left me with many doubts and questions. I recall sessions with
the male group leader when it was as if he wasn’t there. The value in this approach was that I had the freedom to tap into parts of myself that previ-ously had not been opened. I remember him walking around the room; when he approached me to talk with me about my work, I recall only short comments such as ‘That’s interesting’. I don’t recollect any conversation; I was often inquisitive about what he said to others. This technique could be seen as non-intrusive, but somehow I felt something was missing. There was an isolation and preciousness about it all. The artwork was seen to be the most important component, and verbal communication with the whole group was absent.
The second illustrative point was to be seen in the female group leader’s art group. This was a better group for communication, but this communica-tion was primarily channelled through her. In this setting, I found a freedom for expression of pictorial image. The leader had a gentle, non-intrusive manner. As far as I recall – difficult after 30 years – she structured her sessions by introducing themes. The strongest memory I have of one of these sessions was that I portrayed a dream and spoke about it. After putting it into words I recall a look of blankness (I assumed fear and disapproval) on her face, and then she walked away. I felt that I had been asked for something, and in responding I was left with an impression that it was too much for her to handle. The truth of my impression is irrelevant but both these group leaders with their valued techniques and qualities left me feeling that they had missed something.
My impression is that such forefathers in art therapy established them-selves primarily with a structure that I believe was founded on uncertainty. The uncertainty is in how they pioneered into a Victorian attitude to mental illness and handicap. I would hypothesize that a degree of suspicion may have existed in the creation of a therapy that focused on the power of the individual’s intrapsychic/interpersonal struggles in the production of the image through the art therapeutic process. Less attention was given to the spoken word and group communication in the early art therapeutic settings, as far as I know. Historically speaking, it appeared that some art therapists acted as go-betweens for the patient and psychiatrist. In these early days, and for some art therapists today, there was an elevation of the image through excessive interpretation from a psychiatric perspective.
I now turn to the birth of my views on groups, as derived from my own positive reactions to the group of art therapy students that I belonged to. Approximately half of the students lived on the same campus; this community
had the effect of bringing together the vibrant energy that was an intricate part of our group. There were many culinary, musical and creative activities in the groups. Then there were two major issues that brought us even closer. The first was in the winter of 1975, when one of our fellow students died suddenly in our midst. The second was the extremely hot summer of 1976, when our group seemed elated. These two points clarify the power of life and death forces in close proximity and their effect upon the same group. Although such memories have idealistic or exaggerated qualities, I feel that my art therapy student days were the first rewarding group experiences in art and learning.
These group developments led me then, almost by fate, into work in a therapeutic community. In developing my style, technique and theories, I had the new-found power of being an art therapist. I swung from the omnip-otent to the omniscient position, where I felt I understood the world with access to a cure. With my later group analytic training, I came to realize just how much power exists in groups. I became less engrossed in gratifying my own desires and gradually recognized that I didn’t have a monopoly on power; therefore, it wasn’t mine to give. Assumptions are often made about giving more power to the patient, rather than assisting people to locate their own power.
My theoretical formulations and clinical methodology first began taking shape within the confines of the psychotherapeutic community and then moved on to experiential groups with student art therapists and allied pro-fessionals. With this variety of settings, it became clearer over a period of 15 years that there were many universal processes within all the groups that I conducted. During that time, my work in individual art therapy and psycho-therapy also took form. I hope to show in Chapter 10 that there is much to be learned and cross-fertilized between individuals and groups.
My work as an art therapist has been enhanced greatly by my group analytic training; likewise, my verbal group analytic work has been enriched by the added dimension of image-making in the group. As this book is primarily about group art therapy, I have used sparingly examples and theo-retical exploration of my individual art therapy work. However, as Foulkesian group analysis sets the individual in the centre of attention within the group process, attention will be given to the individual within that context.
It is with some regret that I chose to write this book at a time when I am not practising primarily as an art therapist. Having held the position of director of a therapeutic centre along with further senior psychotherapy
positions, I do not have an abundance of pictures to reproduce in photo-graphic form for a book. When one works for many years in art therapy the shelves of the art room become laden with clients’ pictures and the good intentions of the art therapist to take snapshots for the elusive book that is always in the pipeline. When reality strikes, there are no pictures – only vague memories and written accounts.
It would be impossible to trace the many people with whom I have worked, whether as patients, clients or students, in the groups I have conducted. Any use I make of my experiences as I reproduce them here are statements about my views with theoretical implications. I have endeavoured to express myself in such a way as to safeguard the anonymity of those people I have known. These group experiences, although portrayed in a for-malized way, have been very personal to me. I thank those who have inadver-tently taught me through accepting me as their therapist or teacher. Although I have been able to use some actual illustrations relating to imagery produced by patients, a substantial number of these are fictional. However, these fictions are based upon real events, people and groups.
Now I want to move on to a more personal view of the history of British art therapy and where I have entered into this.
I hope that art therapists, group analysts and psychotherapists will benefit from this book. It is not my intention that it becomes a book of dogmatic technique. The book is based upon my own thoughts about group processes and dynamics as I have experienced them along with group analysis as its principal theoretical modality.
Historical review
The evolution of art therapy in the UK only came about in the relatively short period since 1942. I present here a brief account of its lifespan in order to focus at a later point on how my own theoretical and practical approach differs from how art therapy originated. The roots of art therapy are not as deep as those of psychoanalysis, the former tending to be surface-soil runners as a result of the many clinical fields of application they have moved into. I offer an early hypothesis (which I will address from different angles at different points throughout the book) that two types of art therapist have evolved:
· those who place their methodology foremost on the image,
viewed as a creative act with natural healing capacities
· those who place emphasis on the imagery as a psychological
projection or external manifestation of inner disturbance and relationship problems.
I would venture that with the onset of training courses in art therapy, and since the early 1970s, art therapists who emphasize closer links between both of these positions are evolving. This moves the focus to a more inte-grated approach of the two.
I do not intend to explore the causality of such splits within the brief of this chapter. As a result of my work and discussions with colleagues over the years, it would appear that some art therapists who have placed the emphasis on the art and symbolic side dismiss links with earlier psychoanalytic– psychotherapeutic models for fear of contamination, which is seen as debasing the whole creative/artistic life of the individual. On the other hand, the art therapist within the psychological model, with mixed alliances to early psychiatric–psychoanalytic origins, is perceived as explaining the imagery as ‘sick’ productions with access to the therapist’s interpretive tech-niques. In Britain today, I believe the trend is healthier, because the defini-tion of art therapy is more encompassing. There is a greater acceptance of the dynamic forces between art and therapy.
Returning to my analogy of art therapy being a set of surface-running roots, these have moved into hospitals, day centres, family centres, child guidance, prisons, schools, therapeutic communities, and many other clinics and institutions. The list of patients/clients with whom art therapy has been used is extensive. Although high praise is justified for the art therapy movement in Britain, I feel that the profession as a whole has suffered from a dilution of potentially exciting theoretical models, with a limitation upon new schools of thought emerging. In recent years, art therapists have given more consideration to a need to consolidate theory within their own special-ized fields. Art-therapy books have tended to take the form of collected papers by various authors, for example Dalley (1984), as well as single authors, for example Waller (1993) and Schaverien (1999)).
In earlier art-therapy papers, either there tended to be an adherence to the art side, with the study of symbolism and aesthetics, or the theory was presented as psychopathological images derived from case studies. Little was written about the intricacies inherent at the interface between the therapist and the patient/client. Transference and counter-transference were rare currency in print until the late 1970s. Between the late 1980s and today, the
British art therapy literature has come more into its own, with various theo-reticians and clinicians laying claim to particular schools of thought.
I have purposely presented a simple snapshot of primarily individual art therapy history from the two positions cited: the art expression being linked to aesthetics, symbolism and art activity as a healing agent in itself, and the art expression that conveys inner turmoil and relationship difficulties. I have resisted focusing upon the range of theoreticians and practitioners who have been central in these developments, as it would unduly lengthen the intro-duction.
Institutional aspects
At the beginning of the twentieth century, throughout the British Isles, large institutional buildings were erected to house mentally ill people. These large Victorian prison-like buildings were, on the whole, placed on the outskirts of major cities and towns. One of the purposes of this was to remove such people from society, but also the influence of nature was felt to have curative effects. These institutions could each accommodate over 1000 patients. Until the 1940s–50s, people with mental illness, mental handicap, autism, physical handicap and, at times, misdiagnosed mental impairment often were housed together. Some women were hospitalized for having illegiti-mate children. Not until the 1959 Mental Heath Act did different diagnoses begin to be considered to have their own criteria for treatment.
It was into this renaissance of treatments for mental illness and mental handicap that art therapists emerged in the mid-1940s, including such pioneers as Adrianne Hill, Edward Adamson, Dianne Halliday and Rita Simon. In my early days as an art therapist (the mid-1970s), the art therapy jobs in hospitals were few and far between. Although there is now a greater expansion into many clinical settings, the market is still limited for art therapy positions. Within psychiatric hospitals, art therapy departments were often found in some rather strange locations, such as a disused laundry or bakery, a cellar, an abandoned ward or an old shed in a distant part of the hospital grounds. Susan Hogan addressed this:
He [Michael Pope] described going on pilgrimages to the art therapy departments of many of the pioneers including Adamson, Weatherson, Glass and Lydiatt. He explained that as an impressionable young man, these figures assumed legendary status and there seemed something quite magical about the atmosphere and creativity in their art rooms.
Tucked away somewhere in the maze-like geography of the old psychi-atric hospitals, their studios were congenial, cluttered and colourful havens in a world of clinical routines and barren wards. (Hogan 2001, p.199)
Was the distancing of the art therapy (‘remedial art’ was an old term) depart-ment a sign of its being placed in an ‘out of sight, out of mind’ position? Or was it that the power of art therapy was experienced as a threat? Were people ‘sent’ to art therapy to get them off the ward? Or were people ‘referred’ to the art therapist as part of treatment?
Generally speaking, the art therapist today is in a much more secure position, both professionally and politically (art therapists are state regis-tered). In the structural planning of new departments, hospitals, clinics, psy-chiatric wings of general hospitals and prisons, the art-therapy room may be seen in the architect’s plans. Likewise, in the creation of new, and modifica-tions of old, therapeutic systems, the art-therapy medium is often at the forefront. The idea of a patient being ‘sent’ to art therapy is now a thing of the past, the old concept being that patients in psychiatric hospitals needed to be sent off the ward to occupy themselves.
Within the concrete structure of the art room, a balance of tensions is evidenced within the structural setting and the therapeutic conditions. A simple example may be illustrated. In my very early groups, which were conducted in a small room with no sink, water was supplied in buckets before the beginning of a session. The imagery produced often reflected the smallness of the room, with strong boundary lines being drawn. People used less paint; a feeling of poverty and making ends meet was evident in the imagery and ‘acting out’ would happen. This acting out took the form of people not attending sessions, running out of the room, seeing little conse-quence in trying to create in a room that reflected their internal mess. In our second, larger art room, the group’s attitude to art therapy changed, and much of what had occurred in the small room disappeared, became modified, or was easier to contain and work with. In the second room, a new sink was installed along with a clay area and a kiln. There was more personal space and better equipment, and a more serious attitude emerged. Patients and staff were now placing importance on the therapeutic process, and there was more of an equilibrium between the structure and the processes within it. The therapeutic setting is, therefore, an intricate, conscious–unconscious play between structure and process.
Some years ago, shortly after I trained as an art therapist, I was on a bus journey. In the seat in front of me, two schoolgirls of about 13 or 14 years of age were discussing what they wanted to do on leaving school. ‘I want to be an art therapist,’ said one. I smiled. She may now be reading this book. The route to my present position was never really planned until my group analytic training, which was an extension of my art therapy training. I left school at the age of 15, with no qualifications or ambitions, and started work in a factory on the following Monday, which lasted a week. From that point, everything seemed to happen by chance, but the group format in future decisions had its hold and was determined unconsciously.
Brief outline of this book
I trust that for those people who are acquainted with group analysis, as devised by S. H. Foulkes, the more common aspects will not detract from my links with art therapy. It has been necessary for students and those new to the field to restate well-known group analytic theory as developed in Chapter 2, where I have attempted to create dialogue between accepted Foulkesian theory and group analytic art therapy. In Chapter 3, I present a historical development of group analytic art therapy as it originated within the context of the therapeutic community. I hope that such an exposition gives substance to the development of theory and practice.
In Chapter 4, I move the focus on to the ‘group as a whole’, a term coined by Foulkes. Within this, I compare my earlier group theories and methods. I have also drawn from a number of my earlier publications to add further contrasts. Within this chapter, as with the others, I present clinical illustra-tions in order to give form to the theory.
In Chapter 5, although I am moving the focus to the ‘individual in the group’, I examine transference constellations along with the place of inter-pretation. In contrast to individual art therapy, what should be understood from the beginning is that individual art-therapy settings cannot be trans-posed wholesale to the group situation. The ‘individual in the group’ is a complex matter. Working with an ‘individual in the group’ and making use of the group context is more elaborate than an individual (pair) psychother-apy arrangement. In my clinical considerations I have described the start of a new group as on a par with an individual starting in therapy, as well as looking at the individual perspective of a new person entering an existing group.
In the latter section of Part One, I describe how a more sophisticated transition emerged (Chapter 6) and in Chapter 10 of how cross-fertilization between group analysis and group analytic art therapy came about. Part Two is built upon new developments since 1996. I intend to show how my theory and method have become more refined over time.
Chapter 7 is an exposition of the group art therapy literature to date. I have called Chapters 9–11 the ‘Portuguese papers’ because much of the newer material was initiated by my connections with colleagues in Portugal. Not only was there a new opening for me theoretically and professionally, but, as will be seen in Chapter 9, I attempt to open up further dialogue on one of group analysis’s key theoretical points – resonance – linking it, I think for the first time, to intuition and wisdom. This has allowed me to move more delicately into the areas of complexity, subtlety and simplicity.
Chapter 8 extends well-held views in British art therapy into the ‘triangle’ significance. Here, I attempt to move previous perspectives into a new three-dimensional appreciation and integrate this more with group-analytic approaches. Much of this chapter also addresses the dimensions of duals, polarities and oppositional forces.
Organic matters are our concern in Chapter 10, as I develop the ideas of cross-fertilization and grafting. Principally, this is about how such theoreti-cal matter is shown in the relationship between art and verbal group settings. It also considers the interconnectedness between content, process and struc-tural aspects of group analysis, although such areas are touched upon throughout the book. Within this chapter, I reconsider the ‘individual in the group as a whole’ as a single entity, thus grafting ideas previously separated.
In Chapter 11, I turn my attention to another established group analytic concept: the matrix. In keeping with the Portuguese influence, I expand the concept of the pattern, as developed by Eduardo Cortesão, who studied with Foulkes and was a pioneer of group analysis in Portugal. I am surprised that others have not, as far as I am aware, written about the connection between the matrix and the pattern. However, Pines (1991) has written a fitting tribute to Cortesão. The connecting line for me was my own conception of ‘full emptiness’. Although my own views do not carry the single-word precision (matrix) or the brilliance of Foulkes and Cortesão, I hope the reader will comprehend my aims in defining fullness of emptiness as a bond between matrix and pattern.
Finally, I want to make a couple of basic points. Throughout the text, I have used the masculine pronoun for the sake of brevity. I use the terms
‘verbal group’ to denote groups that use language primarily and ‘art group’ to denote group analytic art groups. ‘Structural’ or ‘structured’ art groups are those that are not group analytic in principle and practice and function through tasks or themes. I use the term ‘concrete images/imagery’ to denote paintings, drawings, sculptures, etc., which differentiates from verbal imagery. The terms ‘patient’ and ‘client’ in this book are on a par. The term ‘group member’ incorporates patients, clients and students.
Early formulations and developments
If Foulkes had known about this he’d have gone out and bought a paint brush.
D’Arcy (1976, private communication)
Introduction
I will begin by considering two theoretical perspectives. The first is based on the theories of Foulkes; the second expands these into group art therapy and group analytic art therapy. I intend to highlight the varying dynamics within groups that set language as the dominant feature and within groups that set the production of visual concrete images as a dominant focus. I am indebted to Harold Behr and Lisbeth Hearst for their kind permission to reproduce extracts from their paper on Foulkes’ work (1983). They presented it so clearly that I felt I could not improve on it. Extracts of Foulkes’ other writings will emerge throughout the book, but here I am throwing the reader in at the deep end of group analytic theory. I will present a consolida-tion of my previous papers that are already in print (McNeilly 1983, 1984, 1987, 1989).
Group analysis
Group analysis, or group analytic psychotherapy, represents a synthesis of elements drawn from psychoanalysis, social psychology, Gestalt psy-chology and general systems theory. The man who was chiefly respon-sible for bringing together these elements and formulating the basic assumptions, theoretical framework and clinical application of group analysis was S. H. Foulkes, a psychiatrist and psychoanalyst (Behr and Hearst 1983, p.1).
Foulkes was born on 3 September 1898 in Karlsruhe (Baden). He left Germany in 1933 to settle in England, where he died on 8 July 1976.
The earliest and strongest influence on Foulkes’ professional develop-ment was that of the neurologist Kurt Goldstein (Goldstein 1939) whose assistant he was for two years. Goldstein emphasized the impor-tance of the whole organism and its relationship to the total environ-ment. How much Foulkes was influenced by this view, and his applica-tion of it to the field of group analysis, can be seen from the introduc-tion to his monograph of 1948: ‘The healthy organism funcintroduc-tions as a whole and can be described as a system in a dynamic equilibrium…it has constantly to adjust actively to the ever changing circumstances and environmental conditions in which it lives’ (Foulkes 1983 [1948], p.1).
Certain concepts which are central to group analysis clearly have their origins in the holistic philosophy of Goldstein: the ‘group as a whole’ is at the centre of the therapist’s attention, and can be viewed as an ever-changing field of figure ground relationship in which, now one, now another aspect of a dynamic network comes to the fore. The part cannot be observed in isolation from the whole; the therapist also forms a part of the total field of interaction. The analogy of the group as an organism, a system in dynamic equilibrium, and the analogy of the nervous system as a network, an apparatus functioning as a whole, have both been incorporated as key constructs of group analytic theory.
Following on his association with Goldstein at the Neurological Institute in Frankfurt, Foulkes underwent training as a psychoanalyst in Vienna, and then returned to Frankfurt to take up a post as Director of the Psychoanalytical Institute there. …Foulkes propounded the view that the individual is not prior to society. He perceived the individual as born into a network of communication processes which profoundly affect his nature from the moment of birth. The individual and society are both abstractions which have become separate only for semantic reasons. The frame reference for the individual is the natural group in which he lives. The therapy group is a microcosm of society as well as, at times, representing the patient’s original natural group. (Behr and Hearst 1983, p.2)
In 1921, Freud wrote ‘Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego’. He was one of the first people to study group psychology in relation to the group leader. Foulkes pointed out that Freud’s two main groups of study were the army and the Catholic Church and in his work he was focusing on
the projection of the ego ideal, later to be equated with the superego, on to the leader:
He [Freud] did not attempt to explain the dynamic processes taking place in groups… Group analysis stresses the psycho-analytic model which perceives of mind as a dynamic system of relationships and com-munications in flux, rather than mind as a mental apparatus made up of goal-directed instinctual drives. Psychoanalytic viewpoints which stress the importance of complex internal and external object relation-ships are especially applicable to group analysis, with its emphasis on com-municative processes which transcend the individual.
A major input to the theoretical model developed by Foulkes comes from group dynamics developed by Kurt Lewin’s field theory, and the importance attached here to the group and its leader: the group analytic model of leadership preserves a delicate balance between the disruptive and the cohesive forces within the group, which Lewin related to the leaderless and ‘strongly’ led groups respectively. In fact, the group analyst, at least in the mature group, is unobtrusive in his leadership, and in this sense approximates more closely to the leaderless end of the spectrum than do other psychoanalytic models of therapy groups.
Out of the wealth of psychoanalytically oriented approaches to group therapy, it is possible to recognize three main treatment concepts: 1. therapy in the group, 2. therapy of the group, and 3. therapy by the group. Each of these three approaches has a distinct theoretical framework. The first one, psycho-analysis in the group, preserves the dyadic model of the psycho-analytic relationship with regard to each patient in the group and places the therapeutic responsibility fairly and squarely with the analyst. There is a deliberate discounting of group dynamics and a rejection of the social psychological perspective as introducing an unwarranted element of mystification into the treatment process. (Behr and Hearst 1983, pp.2–3)
In keeping with these definitions, I would like to present group art therapy equations to illustrate each approach. The first example is art therapy in the group, which I illustrated in Chapter 1 by describing my membership of a training group. The group is seen as a collection of individuals who are involved in their own artwork and who are visited throughout the session by the therapist. The dialogue, when it occurs, is between the dyad of therapist and group member. I see the dynamic structure that has been postulated in
psychoanalysis in groups as comparable. One difference may be that the art therapist would not necessarily align himself with the classical psychoana-lyst’s role. The art therapist’s role in this type of group approach, generally speaking, is based upon non-intrusiveness into the image-maker’s creative space. Facilitation and permissiveness are central to the art therapist’s role here, and the most important dynamic is seen to be with the image-maker and the image. The group, therefore, is set in the background.
In the second model, that of psycho-analytic treatment of the group (the so-called Tavistock model), it is the ‘group as a whole’ and the analyst which form the psycho-analytic dyad. The ‘group as a whole’ becomes the entire concern of the analyst, who directs himself essen-tially to the transference relationship. In this relationship the therapist’s talk is strictly defined as that of interpreting in the here-and-now the transference which the group establishes between itself and the analyst. (Behr and Hearst 1983, p.3)
There are some parallels with art groups structured around Gestalt therapy. In my experience, such groups use the complete imagery with a central aim or objective. The group leader promotes each individual to ‘go into’ their completed image in order to be in the ‘here and now’ and to adopt different ‘beings’ as part of the therapeutic process. For example, ‘Be the house – be the girl – be the tree – be the road,’ etc. The focus is similar to that of art therapy in the group in that one of the roles of the therapist is concerned with promoting the dominant interaction between the image-maker and the image. Although this is not a group analytic technique, this method goes some way towards an awareness of commonality within the group. Here, there is primarily the ‘leader of the group’, which maintains a group more in keeping with a Bion-type group (Bion 1961). As with the previous group type, the leader’s role is not of importance when questioning either what images are produced or the effect of the leader on the creation of the finished product. The benefit that Gestalt art groups may have is that with the chan-nelling of active imagination upon personal images, this may lead to changes of direction and resonances not initially foreseen. These techniques may be of great value to those groups of people who function best in a containing structure, i.e. adolescents, students and other groups formed according to common factors. However, I should say that my experience in Gestalt art groups is limited to past experiences some years ago. There may be new developments in technique and theory, so I apologize if my account is simplistic.
With the group analytic approach to art groups, the group is also struc-tured upon ‘figure ground’ and ‘here and now’ configurations, but in a more unconscious, free-flowing way. Because the images have not been called upon via a technical request – ‘Be the tree – what do you feel now as the tree? What do you feel with the sun in the background?’ – the dynamic roots will stem more from the unconscious. This would be in contrast to cognitive con-nections through active imagination.
The third approach, that of the Foulkesian group analysis, takes as its frame of reference the group itself, with the treatment of the individual through the group processes. This approach occupies an intermediate position between the other approaches, in its respect both for the dynamics of the group as a whole and for the individual, as a legitimate focus of therapy. (Behr and Hearst 1983, p.3)
Germane to these concepts is the notion of the individual as a nodal point in the network of his group. The infant–mother relationship is the first social relationship in the same sense as it is the first sexual and love relationship, and the family as a group is the earliest social environ-ment within which the individual defines his identity and gains a sense of group belongingness.
Every event involves the group as a whole. Man can only fully realise himself within the network of the group. Mutual understanding arises through a process of communication which occurs on all levels, from the deepest intra-psychic to the social. This communication takes place within the complex network of interpersonal relationships. Illness is therefore conceived as occurring within this network and must be treated in it. (Behr and Hearst 1983, p.4)
With the addition of a contribution by co-author Malcolm Pines, Behr and Hearst’s paper was expanded as a book chapter, which adds greater substance to the original publication (Gazda 1982). Although I shall address particular points of Foulkes’ terminology throughout the book, I suggest that one reads the chapter by Pines, Hearst and Behr in Gazda (1982, pp.132–78) for a more comprehensive account and also Foulkes’ original writings. On the whole, I follow closely Foulkes’ views when exploring group analytic art therapy in theory and practice. The earlier types of art group that I described give prominence to the individual and their imagery, placing the group in the background in lessening degrees or apparent insig-nificance. I will now discuss the group analytic art group in more detail.
Group analytic art therapy
The opening quote of this chapter was said to me by my friend Jean D’Arcy when she worked in one of my art groups in the therapeutic community. However, Foulkes did know about therapeutic art groups in 1945. I have only recently learned this by reading Susan Hogan’s book History of Art Therapy (Hogan 2001, pp.209–10). Hogan presents a valuable account of an art group session which Foulkes attended; this is worth reading but is too long to be reproduced here. Hogan reported that the session was not untypical and pointed out how the images acted as catalysts for discussion. She noted that Cunningham Dax visited this group but did not adhere to such methodology. Dax was influential and promotional for Edward Adamson, who, as I stated earlier, developed the individual, non-intrusive school: art as a form of healing.
In his book on the Northfield Experiment, Tom Harrison presents details on the art therapy undertaken there. Sergeant Laurence Bradbury’s input to the Northfield is acknowledged further in Harrison’s book with personal accounts about these early art groups. However, Bradbury stressed that ‘art is therapy’, declined the use of the term ‘art therapy’ and preferred not to use the phrase ‘art therapy’. (Harrison 2000, p.203).
How could Bradbury not be influenced by Foulkes in developing a group analytic model while in direct contact with Foulkes? Was Foulkes seeing the richness in the concrete imagery in using it covertly, or not? Possibly, Foulkes was too busy furrowing his own verbal channels in the early days of group analysis. However, I was able to locate one direct account of Foulkes’ involvement with an art group in Introduction to Group Analytic Psychotherapy (Foulkes 1983), under the heading ‘Another Trigger Action’. Foulkes draws on Sergeant Bradbury’s notes:
The group, though much larger than the previous week, were slow to respond to the drawings, and the paintings which M. showed caused little excitement. Even the most depressed of M.’s works were accepted with little interest, though everyone agreed with the drabness of the colouring in each case and no-one suggested that the pictures could be cheerful, despite the cheerful element in each. Pte. G., realistic and usually reserved, made a long, cynical and determined statement on the unresurrected dead – which appeared in one of M.’s drawings. None of the group opposed or seconded G.’s opinions, but though he appeared to be serious enough himself, the group was inclined to be amused… Practically everyone took part in the discussion excepting B. himself.
The group was not interrupted and ran on to tea time, i.e. two hours. Deviation caused by Maj. Foulkes’ remark: ‘You don’t think much of English women?’ after the subject had cropped up on one of the paint-ings.
It is interesting that Sgt. B. labels this as ‘deviation’. He was an artist in charge of the art classes and brought out beautifully the patient’s spontaneity in their paintings. (Foulkes 1983, pp.137–8)
Although Foulkes’ work is central to my findings, some of my formulations owe a debt to Bion’s writings, particularly his Experiences in Groups (Bion 1961). The classical psychoanalytical models of Freud and Klein and other ‘object relations’ (e.g. Winnicott and Balint) theorists will also be drawn upon. However, the framework of this particular type of art therapy is my own.
In reviewing my earlier papers I feel that many of their central concepts have stood the test of time, with regard to both my own development and that of the art therapy field in relation to groups. There is little in my original hypotheses that I have changed, apart from those areas that were perceived as antagonistic or critical. My group analytic training has led me to take a wider view of my own theories, making me less afraid to receive criticism or abandon that which was misleading or untrue.
Rather than adding major changes to my original views, I have expanded these into group analysis and, in turn, opened new doors that had not been approached through verbal groups. Progressively, I have adopted and discarded four main titles to explain my theoretical framework and technical application. These have been:
· group art therapy · group art psychotherapy
· thematic and non-thematic art therapy
· directive and non-directive approaches to art therapy.
The final model is now called ‘group analytic art therapy’. One of my main aims with these earlier papers (McNeilly 1983, 1984) was to highlight theo-retical and technical splits between practitioners rather than to make them greater. In some cases, there was a positive reaction; equally, however, a similar proportion of readers took offence, as they felt that what I was saying questioned long-established beliefs of art therapists using structured techniques.
Group analysts may already be aware of my paper published in Group Analysis (McNeilly 1984) which is a consolidated version of my earlier paper on directive and non-directive approaches to art therapy (McNeilly 1983). The term ‘non-directive’ is on a par with my present term ‘group analytic’ but no longer carries the same opposition to ‘directive art therapy’.
In my early years as an art therapist, I was the leader of a group and set topics for the group to follow. As this was within a psychotherapeutic community, I had to devise a new system (see Chapter 3) that was more in keeping with the whole community dynamics, which didn’t sit comfortably with directives. It was not appropriate to maintain the idea that an art group could function in the relative isolation of the art room with directive modali-ties, in contrast to the emotional currency of the whole therapeutic community setting. Nor was it enough to open the doors of the art room and facilitate an asylum mentality (a secluded safe room) as our forefathers did, removed from the dynamic issues of the whole therapeutic community. In these formative days I was in constant flux between how much I directed my groups through the various techniques I had learned while at college and, in contrast, the next stage of developing non-directive groups. I had not learned this more arduous and unpredictable task from my teachers or books. In fact, within our therapeutic community, Foulkes’ theories did not per-colate through to me for one or two years.
My motivation in directive art therapy was to provide a vehicle for the experience of intense feelings that could not be accommodated only by language. This directive, uncovering approach caused many conflicts for my groups and myself, with numerous consequences. These included catharsis of questionable long-term value, intolerance of the uncovered feelings and withdrawal or flight from the group by patients. What emerged was not all negative, but in retrospect I wonder about the validity of group responses resulting from such a strong controlling input from me. An overidealized aspect of what I was seeking was to gain access to unconscious material on demand. I believe that the reverse of this actually happened and that my current group analytic approach is far more productive. I think that in many ways the directive approach served as a safety net (McNeilly 1983, 1984) for me as a beginning art therapist and did not deal adequately with transference and counter-transference issues.
With the directive approach to art therapy, the therapist principally establishes a dyadic process between himself and the individual members of the group. I had read little in art therapy literature that dealt with
ships in the art group. On the whole, the lines of communication were between the therapist and the patient, focusing on the artwork and its themes. By providing the theme, the therapist comes to be seen as the provider or ‘good mother’. In my elaboration on the directive dynamics, I was exploring this with respect to dependency. Bion (1961), in his descrip-tion of the ‘dependent group’, highlights how a group establishes a strict discipline, whereby a patient is talking to a doctor and limits his conversa-tion to topics that maintain the ‘dependency basic assumpconversa-tion’. At the same time, this group contrives to demonstrate that the doctor does not know his job. The group continues, familiar and unchanging. A balance of tensions is established, which Bion considers to be an equilibrium between group mentality, group culture and the individual. The directive art therapist, who concerns himself primarily with the individuals and their artwork, may collude with them, thus creating a similar dependency fuelled by the method. The cross-relationships in such a group are minimal, with a search for approval going back to the figurehead (McNeilly 1983, 1984).
In my earlier views on the use of themes, I suggested:
The process of introducing themes into an art group is a forced entry into the group (in such groups that do not necessarily warrant such a directed technique), leading to ever-increasing demands from the members and severely restricting intra-group relationships… Conse-quently this over-idealized transaction from the individual member of the group towards the therapist sacrifices the dynamics of the inter-group relationships upon which the very existence of the group matrix depends. (McNeilly 1984, p.205)
Today, I am not convinced about my findings that themes constitute a forced entry. There are many groups and particular client groups, such as children, adolescents and groups formed according to a common factor such as anxiety management, where themes are beneficial in assisting the patients to reach a secure position. Also, my views on the sacrifice of group dynamics of the intergroup relationships have been modified to include only groups that are attempting to assist interrelations, but my initial views still apply to the therapist who introduces a beginning theme in a dogmatic manner without due consideration to the group’s existing culture. Therapists who set necessary themes for their groups and have no pressing concern for the dynamics of interpersonal relationships have to contend with different sets of dynamics. When working with patients who have potential for insight
and motivation for change, the use of starting themes given by the therapist should be questioned. It is not the theme that is in question, but its technical use.
For the remainder of this chapter, I will highlight specific theoretical developments of my own from their points of origin. I will expand upon these in later chapters. From my initial stance of directing groups and moving into newer, searching forms of art therapy, many questions arose: for example, why was it necessary for me to suggest starting themes for the groups I conducted? The answers came with the change to group analytic methods. My first step in preparing to abandon the use of themes given by me was to look upon my need as a way of imposing order. I wrote:
I feel strongly that the adoption of a theme is not primarily for the patient, but for the therapist. One could also see it as the child in the therapist, which to deal with his inexperience needs a structure in order to function and be valued as a professional. (McNeilly 1984, p.207)
In abandoning my earlier position of being the initiator of themes, I was appearing to renege on my therapeutic task. I was no longer the leader of the group, providing the recipe for the group procedure. In Foulkesian parlance, I was now the ‘group conductor’, a term Foulkes coined and that equated the group analyst to an orchestral conductor. One of Foulkes’ definitions of group analysis certainly helped me to bring order to my creative chaos. He says:
It [group analysis] grew out of and is inspired by my experiences as a psychoanalyst, but it is not psychoanalysis of individuals in a group. Nor is it the psychological treatment of a group by a psychoanalyst. It is a form of psychotherapy by the group, of the group, including its conductor. Hence the name: group analytic psychotherapy. (Foulkes 1986, p.3)
I was now groping in the dark while trying to create an approach similar to Foulkes’ definition. In order for me to establish my new methods, I had to devise a structure that would facilitate the art groups group analytically. Simply speaking, I brought group analytic principles into the core therapeu-tic community programme by promoting a ‘themeless’ use of the art groups. Compared with the directive theme-setting approach, or the free-floating expression by individuals who at other times used the art room in their own way, it eventually became a more powerful and focused therapeutic medium.
In considering my imposition of themes in my earlier years, what was of interest was the particular choice of theme at a given time and what caused me to focus upon it. Often, it would have been thought out clearly in relation to the community dynamics, and there was a value in this that was hard to give up, as there was often a sense of achievement. However, a sense of failure ensued if things didn’t go to plan. There was great pressure on me from the patients to come up with motivating and interesting themes every week. I struggled on with directing groups with my ingenious themes, but the longer it persisted the more contrived I felt I was becoming in the first two years. I continually had to justify my professional position by what was seen and heard to be coming from my lips. When I sat with the group during the verbal part of the session, and in a mechanical fashion went from one person’s image to the next, I felt very much like the art-therapy forefathers I spoke of in Chapter 1, who did the same thing to me with their ‘floating visits’ in the art group sessions. With the eventual adoption of the group analytic method, it felt so invigorating; it was as if caution was thrown to the wind. Even now, when I go into an art group, my pulse increases with trepidation.
Direction
In its simplest form, direction is inherent in the process of any therapeutic intervention. Simple questions such as ‘How can therapy help?’ and ‘How can I change?’ and doubting statements such as ‘There is no hope!’ are all concerned with existing and new directions in people’s lives. Retracing my earlier formulations, along with my therapeutic practice, the dynamics of direction were crucial but in need of much revision.
My initial formulations upon group analytic art therapy may have been perceived as offering no direction at all to an individual. Foulkes stated that in a group interpretation, individuals will pick up on that with which they resonate the most, and hence the direction evolves more naturally. In recent years, I have become more comfortable in giving individual comments in the group, but I still believe that one should always have the group dynamic in mind. I still limit making categorical individual interpretations, as this would perpetuate the notion that the group analytic art therapist is the key holder of the ‘right’ interpretation. Previously, I resisted responding and reacting to the individual, believing that it would increase the ‘dependency basic assumption’ (Bion 1961). To individualize in a group may result in dynamics of envy, of feeling special or victimized by the conductor and perception of
the conductor’s real and fantasized power. This highlights my disagreement with that part of Foulkes’ basic law of group dynamics, which speaks of respect for individuality (Foulkes 1983, pp.29–30), as it does not accommo-date fully the destructive and negative issues in the group. Morris Nitsun coined the phrase ‘anti-group’: ‘My own interest has increasingly been in the negative and destructive attitudes that arise in relation to the group itself ’ (Nitsun 1991, p.7). In discussion with group analytic colleagues, there is a view that Foulkes did not address destructive forces adequately.
Now what has all this to do with directiveness or non-directiveness? The idea of a directive and non-directive art therapist is outmoded and should be abandoned. Philosophically speaking, non-directiveness does not exist. Time goes forward and to live is to go forward in a direction. Even a choice, consciously or otherwise, to opt out of the system or the wish to regress has a directional aim of going back or sideways to escape or to find lost hope in order to go in a more gratifying direction. Whosoever speaks or, at times, is silent in a group is directing it.
One answer may lie in moving the focus away from building theoretical models upon:
· directive models – theme settings with controlling therapists · non-directive models – group dynamics, in which the individual
is sacrificed for the good of the group and the therapist stays in the background too much.
We should give more attention to direction in art groups (inclusive of thematic/structured art groups), staying in tune with the natural frequency of the group’s direction and also to charting new directions that emerge in the group process. There is a need for a revision of ideas about directive and non-directive art therapists. The two stances can be parallelled in a belief that direction is unavoidable – it is how to get somewhere that is the differ-ence. Even when I sit through a group in total silence, it is not because I have the intention of being non-directive. It is because the group is going in a compatible, analytical and meaningful way and does not need me to introduce new directions. Groups may find it difficult to accept their healing capacities, especially if there is a tendency to project strong superego attrib-utes on to the therapist. The silent therapist is then seen as disapproving; if he sees the group as mature and healthy, then he may be perceived as conde-scending. When I do speak in a group, either on the individual’s imagery or on total group process, this is directive – it can be no other way. It may or
may not carry a message of my agreement with the existing group direction. The group now has choices – they can accept and change course if that is desired. If the statement from me is one of illuminating things from another angle, all that is required is to sidestep and see things differently. The group may welcome my comments as they may feel stuck. Some responses to the therapist’s statements include resistance, increasing the intransigence, or the group going on its merry way and leaving the conductor feeling alien. There is also the fact that the conductor just hasn’t got a clue as to what is happening and his words seem to be there as a way of earning his keep. It is important to know when to shut up. One last point I will make about different art therapists is that the titles refer only to a minor starting component; the more meaningful similarities and differences are often left unexplored. Possibly, there is a need to separate them in order to have a nurturing of specialities.
Turning now to some key points in group analytic terminology, which I addressed in earlier papers (McNeilly 1983, 1984, 1989), I would like to discuss briefly two areas: matrix and the resonance. I have expanded these ideas significantly in later chapters, but first I offer a few brief comments on structural aspects of the matrix while equating it later in anatomical terms (pp.37–8).
With verbal groups, the matrix is constructed with the following:
· What is seen: numbers of people in the room and its contents,
chairs, central coffee table, the therapist
· What is partly seen: mannerisms, body language, proximity of
group members to one another
· What is not seen: individuals’ thoughts, unconscious, memories,
internal associations, reactions to others.
The fit between these three areas gives emphasis to the strength or weakness of the group matrix.
With the art group, the same principles apply. However, there are addi-tional dimensions to these three categories:
· What is seen: this is increased by a potentially different room and
extra materials for expression that activate the other senses. Paint, clay, water and crayons evoke reactions to touch and smell; people may copy things in the room; they may taste paint and clay rubbed on the lips or from chewing the brush end or
pencil. The large array of materials within the physical matrix establishes and maintains the dynamic matrix above the
foundation matrix. I will describe these terms in due course. An additional component is that the individual has to create his own space to be held or shared within the group for the creation of the images. The parallel in verbal groups would be silences in which people withdraw to paint their own mental pictures. As far as I am aware, Foulkes did not use the term ‘physical matrix’, although he would have considered a number of the points raised with his concept of the conductor acting as a ‘dynamic administrator’ in practical matters of conducting the group (Foulkes 1986, p.99).
· What is partly seen: this is as in verbal groups, but some elements
may not be seen while everyone is busy creating their images. For example, one doesn’t see a formulation of a memory or thought that has been activated through a scribble or chewing a paintbrush. More difficult to see is how a smell that is within the room leads a person back to an earlier experience or memory, and then the subsequent formulation of a picture.
· What is not seen: the extra dimensions of media help us to
accommodate that which may not be seen in verbal groups and which becomes lost in silences and silent assumptions. For those who do not create an image or who end up with a blank sheet, this brings a new form to the analytic group. That which is not seen in the verbal group can be assumed to be either present in non-verbal communication or silence. With the added dimension to the group of pictorial imagery, much of what would go unnoticed can now be located in how the images are created (or not) and in whether the image is created in a particularly structured way, is abstract or is apparently meaningless to its creator. For further reading on this, see McNeilly (1989).
When I spoke previously of the matrix as a physical anatomical equation, I was referring to how the perceived body shape of the group matrix changes while containing its skeleton and vital organs. In rethinking the physiologi-cal parallel with the matrix, I would like to offer a new adaptation to the concept of resonance. Resonance is one of the central catalysts within the dynamic matrix. In the past, I studied the matrix and resonance separately. I
now see resonance on a par with being the cardiovascular and nervous systems of the group body or matrix.
My earlier commentary on the matrix was more descriptive of the dynamic matrix. What can and cannot be seen in the foundation matrix is more complex. Therefore, the deeper layers within the foundation matrix resonate, waiting to be summoned to the surface via some common catalytic triggering process. The paradox here is that this apparently silent structural process is, in effect, extremely loud (or full) when it presents itself in the conscious arena of the group (see Chapter 11).
Resonance
I have called resonance the ‘Language of Dynamic Silence’ (McNeilly 1983, p.84) because it is akin to a silent and symbolic language. I believe it is also paradoxical in nature – how can language be silent? With this in mind, an equation can be drawn with Foulkes’ views on the autistic symptom of neurosis, when he says: ‘The language of the symptom, although already a form of communication, is autistic. It mumbles to itself secretly, hoping to be overheard; its equivalent meaning conveyed in words is social’ (Foulkes and Anthony 1984, pp.259–60).
Roberts (1984, pp.211–19) highlights resonance as a concurrent dynamic in art groups as opposed to a consecutive contribution in solely verbal groups. In the group analytic art group, members can create pictorial images; each contributes to or emanates from a central power. Consciously, each member either does his own work or copies; while this is occurring, a common pool of experiences is being formed. Issues under the surface are waiting to be sprung. What in the end appears to be resonance, I would equate with a magnetic field. Primarily, the concept of the magnetic field is that the magnetic power lies with the two surfaces being attracted to each other, rather than the power force ‘being within’ and pushing towards each other. I have developed this analogy to resonance elsewhere, when I was exploring fusion and confusion in individuals and groups (McNeilly 1987, unpublished work). I suggested that resonance was the power drive within the magnetic force field and that fusion was the enactment of the resonant drive and draw (push–pull) of magnetic objects. In Chapter 8, I shall expand these ideas concerning the attraction of opposites, polar balances and encounter-alienation.
Conclusion
A conclusion is an act of stopping, which is not my intent here. Nevertheless, there is a degree of stoppage in closing one chapter before moving to another. Looked at another way, a line of enquiry has various stages and levels. Therefore, I hope that my enquiry in this chapter has shown how the early stages of theoretical evolution have moved, along with the practical applications. In the next chapter, I illustrate in more detail just how this practical evolution developed.
