Amicus Curiae
If I had to provide a full and accurate accounting of the academic influences on my artistic life, the list would include not only teachers, but students. And, the list of students would not be limited to classmates, but would include non-classmates and grads who had been—at one time or another—enrolled at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago. It was a delight, then, to read the following quote, originally written by a student at The School, and copied here from a story published by The Chicago Tribune:
“As therapists, we don’t censor what clients bring to the sessions. We must stay impartial. Often, we encounter clients’ cultures, upbringing, experiences, values and belief systems that are very dierent (sic) from our own. Sometimes we can also work with clients’ experiences/backgrounds that are ‘too close to home’ and we need to deal with our own complicated feelings, internalized racism/ableism/homophobia/supremacy and countertransference, etc. … Can you keep it professional and still empathize with clients even when the content of their art upsets or triggers you?”
A citation is provided at the end of my remarks. The words in quotation marks were extracted by the Tribune journalist from “a preface to the assignment.” The writer quoted by the Tribune writer is a “teaching assistant” (my quotes), and evidently a Graduate student, learning by teaching, in the Department of Art Therapy. The comment is glaringly the view of one who is not yet a professional, but who has been granted the duty and responsibility of a subordinate, in an academic organizational hierarchy.
It is an important distinction. Unlike the general Fine Arts student, who is free to enroll in minor elective courses required for graduation in a particular discipline, in order to earn a diploma in Art Therapy, specifically, this student must follow department guidelines. Art Therapy is psychology. It is not creativity. It dissects creativity. The school-certified practitioner owns her earned Graduate credentials.
The grad student cited in the Tribune article is already qualified to practice, as far as I'm concerned, wanting nothing but the sheepskin. Granted, the diction of the statement is that of a student, a person who has not yet the polish from being a member of professional bodies, of attending post-graduate seminars, of opportunities to speak to conferences, published articles in peer-reviewed journals, and most important of all, the endorsement of a leader in her field.
This last qualification is the pinnacle of achievement in the field of inter-personal psychology. The writer-grad student of the quotes already holds it, like a key, in the palm of her hand: “countertransference.” To gain full access, she must now engage the services of a practicing psychoanalyst, a mentor. I am not being sarcastic when I say psychotherapy is not a chat session. My only hope is the graduate is capable of practicing what she preaches. Indeed, the grad student may have got the right answer by diligent study—or even by cheating—for all it matters. How the young psychologist got it is not important. The fact is, she has it.
The same can't be said of every practicing professional psychotherapist. I could give a few examples of my own. It takes me just one visit to find out if the practitioner has it: “Please sit down,” and “Do you wish to schedule another visit?” -is all I expect to hear. Neither am I being cavalier. I deal with the same hardships in life as everybody, but (unlike most people), I don't “transfer” it to my friends and loved ones. I consult an expert.
Let me give one specific example of my own. A page copied from my autobiography file. Briefly, I had leased an apartment in a new town. It was economical. The place was a planned community of four-unit dwellings, separated by lawn and a driveway, etc. It looked like a modern suburban housing tract in Chicago. It did not look like Cabrini Green Projects, which, as events unfolded, is what it proved to be. To make a long story short my unit was burglarized.
I learned my lesson. Don't economize on your dwelling place. I relocated to my subsequent, and current, address 16 years ago. Then, after a few years of peace of mind, I found myself worrying, when away from home, that I had failed to lock the door! I reminded myself that I had replaced the deadbolt with a premium Medeco lock, had changed the door knob, and even the screen door lock. At the same time as I was experiencing irrational anxiety, I knew it was caused by the burglary of my previous apartment.
This is the crazy part: half-way en route to work I was unable to contain my anxiety and, many times, returned home to discover I had, in fact, securely locked my door. I felt like a fool. No, I realized, that's not my problem. I suffered from subconscious thought processes beyond my conscious control. I called a therapist I had consulted when I was a new arrival, but before the burglary. She was booked, she said, but gave me a referral to a colleague.
I was unable, at first, to speak my mind to the new therapist. Do you know the feeling? It feels like a hand covering the mouth, or, like the throat gripped in a choke hold. I equivocated, as if I had something to hide. She grimaced. After a few sessions I relaxed, and confident that I would not shock, unburdened myself of the offense. Her grimace turned to a look of concern. I was emboldened to tell the nightmare I had about a burglar. I expressed resentment, which spoke to imaginary social contradictions between myself, and the burglar.
At the next visit, my therapist admitted to having (so far) unfounded fears of her own children failing to lock the door of their home when she was away. What had been, previously, a me/you situation, was instantly resolved into “we.” Without delving into the particulars of “our” case, I will say it was clear to me that further consultation was not needed. It reminded me of what my mother told me as an adolescent. It was, I supposed, what all mothers tell their adolescent kids. I had not thought about her warning for a long, long time...
At the tail end of every scientific submission for peer review is a one-paragraph conceptual summary. What does it all mean? Thus: The subconscious mind is like clay. I find the subconscious mind to be like Plasticine, a non-hardening, modelling putty which can be formed, mashed and kneaded, and formed anew indefinitely. Let it serve as an analogy for therapeutic discovery, the metaphysical moment when the abstract idea hangs motionless in the midst of the void between analyst and client, an enigmatic thing of contemplation for both.
(source) “Lawsuit: Student alleges antisemitism, discrimination at School of the Art Institute” Angie Leventis Lourgos, Chicago Tribune (web site) January 08, 2024