What Actually Happens in an Expressive Arts Session? |

If you've landed here, you might be intrigued by expressive arts therapy but unsure what you'd actually be signing up for. Maybe you're picturing yourself being handed a paintbrush and asked to "paint your feelings" while someone watches and interprets. Maybe you're worried you'll be judged for stick figures. Maybe talk therapy hasn't quite reached the thing you're carrying, and you're wondering if there's another way in.

Let's get concrete and demystify the process.

First, what expressive arts therapy is (and isn't)

Expressive arts therapy uses creative processes such as drawing, painting, movement, writing, music, drama, and ritual as a way to explore what's happening inside you. It's still therapy. We still talk. We still set goals, track patterns, and build skills. The art is simply another language, one that often reaches places words can't get to on their own.

What it isn't: an art class, a performance, or a test. There's no grade and no right answer. I'm not going to look at your drawing and tell you what it "means." You're the expert on your own images. My role is to guide you through the creative practices, help you make sense of what comes up, and support whatever steps you want to take next.

And one more thing I want to say clearly: you do not need to be creative, talented, or even comfortable with art to benefit. Expressive arts therapists have a phrase for this: low skill, high sensitivity. What matters isn't technique. It's paying attention to what you notice, what you feel, and what surprises you as you create. Some of the most powerful sessions I've witnessed started with someone saying, "I haven't drawn anything since third grade."

Where this approach comes from

Expressive arts therapy took shape in the 1970s at Lesley University in Cambridge, Massachusetts, through the work of Shaun McNiff, Paolo Knill, and their colleagues. What made it distinct was the idea of working intermodally, moving between art forms instead of staying with just one. A session might begin with movement, shift into drawing, and end with a few written lines.

I trained in this tradition at the California Institute of Integral Studies, where Natalie Rogers, a pioneer of person-centered expressive arts, once taught. Rogers observed that creative forms feed each other: how we move changes how we draw, and what we draw changes how we feel and think.

The arc of a typical session

Every session is shaped around the person in front of me, but most follow a gentle rhythm with a few phases.

1. Arriving and checking in

We start the way most therapy sessions start: talking. How has your week been? What's on your mind? What's showing up in your body today? This part might last ten minutes or most of the session, depending on what you need. Nothing super creative happens until you're ready.

2. Settling into the body

Before we make anything, I'll often invite a short grounding practice. That might be a few slow breaths, noticing where your feet meet the floor, or a small stretch. My background in yoga shapes this piece. The goal is to shift out of "thinking about" your experience and into actually noticing it.

3. The creative invitation

This is the part people are most curious about. Based on what you've shared, I'll offer an invitation, never a demand. A few examples:

If you've been describing a heavy, stuck feeling, I might ask, "If that heaviness had a color and a shape, what might it look like?" and offer oil pastels and paper.
If you're caught in a loop of overthinking, we might try a few minutes of free writing where your pen doesn't stop moving.
If you're feeling disconnected from yourself, we might explore a simple gesture or movement that matches how you feel right now, and then one that matches how you'd like to feel.
If there's a relationship you're struggling with, we might build a small collage from magazine images that captures it.

You can always say no, change the invitation, or switch materials halfway through. Declining is valuable information too.

I also pay attention to your energy that day. If you arrive exhausted, we might start with something soft and low-effort, like pastels or writing just three words. If you're buzzing with anxiety or frustration, something more physical often helps, like shaping clay, tearing paper, or finding a movement that lets the tension out.

4. Making (the quiet middle)

While you create, I'm present but not hovering. Some people like a bit of conversation; many prefer quiet. This stretch is usually five to twenty minutes. People often tell me this is where something shifts. The hands start doing something the mind hadn't planned, and a feeling surfaces that wasn't accessible in conversation.

If your inner critic shows up, whispering that it looks messy or childish, that's welcome too. We treat that voice as information, not a verdict. Noticing when and how it appears is often part of the work.

5. Reflecting together

When you're finished, we look at what you made together. I'll ask open questions like:

What do you notice when you look at this?
What was it like to make it?
Is there a part that draws your attention, or one you'd rather not look at?
If this image could speak, what might it say?

There's a concept in expressive arts called decentering. Instead of staying fixed on the problem, we step for a while into the world of imagination, where there's more room to play and experiment. When we return, the problem often looks a little different, and new options appear that weren't visible before.

This is where the art becomes a bridge back into words, often with more clarity or feeling than when we started. Sometimes a single detail, like a color you didn't expect to choose or a shape pushed into a corner, opens up a whole conversation.

6. Closing and carrying it forward

We wrap up by naming what feels important to take with you. Sometimes that's an insight, sometimes a small practice for the week, and sometimes just the experience of having expressed something that had been held in. You're welcome to take your artwork home or leave it with me.

I also make sure you don't leave feeling wide open. If something big came up, we'll take time to settle and ground before you go, so you can return to your day feeling steady.

How this fits with other approaches

Expressive arts isn't a replacement for evidence-based care. It works alongside it. In my practice, I integrate creative methods with approaches like DBT (Dialectical Behavior Therapy) and IPSRT (Interpersonal and Social Rhythm Therapy), especially with clients navigating depression, anxiety, and mood disorders. A collage might help you recognize an emotional pattern; DBT skills help you respond to it differently. The two strengthen each other.

Who tends to find it helpful

Expressive arts therapy can be a good fit if you:

Feel like you've "talked it all out" but still feel stuck
Find it hard to put emotions into words
Tend to intellectualize your feelings
Carry experiences that feel too big or too tender to speak about directly
Are a teen, or a parent of a teen, looking for a less intimidating way into therapy
Simply want therapy that engages more of who you are

When it may not be the right fit (yet)

I want to be honest here: expressive arts work tends to go best when you have some basic ways of grounding yourself, since creative work can stir up strong feelings. If you're in an acute crisis, we'd focus first on stabilization and safety. Creative work can come in when you're on steadier ground. That's part of why I pace the creative invitations to where you are, rather than jumping straight to the deep end.

Common questions

Do I need any art experience? None at all. The process matters far more than the product.

Will you analyze my artwork? No. I won't tell you what your art means. We explore it together, and your interpretation is the one that counts.

Do I have to do art every session? No. Some sessions are mostly conversation. Creative work is always an invitation, never a requirement.

Can expressive arts therapy happen over telehealth? Yes. Many creative practices translate well online. You can use simple supplies at home, like paper, pens, or even your phone for sound or photography.

What materials do I need? For in-person sessions, I provide everything. For telehealth, a few basic supplies are plenty, and I'll suggest what might be helpful.

If you're curious, that's enough

You don't have to know exactly what you're looking for or feel ready to "be creative." Curiosity is a perfectly good place to begin.

If you'd like to explore whether expressive arts therapy is right for you, I offer both in-person sessions at my Wheat Ridge office and telehealth across Colorado and California. You can schedule a consultation or call (720) 381-4110.