European Journal of Psychotherapy & Counselling
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The self portrait, a powerful tool for self-therapy
Cristina Nuñez
To cite this article: Cristina Nuñez (2009) The self portrait, a powerful tool for
self-therapy, European Journal of Psychotherapy & Counselling, 11:1, 51-61, DOI:
10.1080/13642530902723157
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Published online: 15 Apr 2009.
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European Journal of Psychotherapy and Counselling
Vol. 11, No. 1, March 2009, 51–61
The self portrait, a powerful tool for self-therapy
Cristina Nuñez*
Artist-photographer and Self-portrait Facilitator
(Received 31 October 2008; final version received 15 December 2008)
In this paper, it is argued that in the digital era, self-portraiture enables
anyone to produce a work of art instinctively, without knowing anything
about photography, and more and more people today feel a strong urge
towards self representation. Facing the camera lens and releasing the
shutter immediately takes us to our first essential process of the definition
of the self: the recognition of our image in the mirror. By objectifying our
‘dark side’ in a photograph, we can separate ourselves from what we dislike
and open up a space for catharsis or renewal. During a self-portrait
session we can start a dialogue between our thinking mind and our ‘gut’ to
draw from an inexhaustible source of meanings, which must be expressed.
The self-portrait can be incredibly empowering. By forcing us into the
Now, it can help us perceive and express our essential humanity in
a photograph. The decision to represent oneself can provide what is termed
here a ‘state of grace’: the feeling of centeredness that occurs in moments
of creative work in which the emotions are naturally retained because
our higher self is in command. This paper is an outline of the author’s
thoughts on the therapeutic use of self-portraiture and the personal nature
of the narrative is reflected in the use of the first person.
Keywords: self-portrait; identity; art; art-therapy; empowerment; self-
awareness
El autorretrato, una herramienta para la auto-terapia
En este artı́culo, se mantiene que en la era digital, auto-retratar-se permite
a cualquiera crear una obra de arte instintivamente, sin saber nada de
fotografı́a, y además, hoy en dı́a la gente siente un fuerte impulso hacia la
auto-representación. Ponerse delante la cámara y liberar el obturador,
inmediatamente nos lleva a nuestro primer proceso esencial de la definición
del self; el reconocimiento de nuestra imagen en el espejo. Deshumanizando
nuestro ‘lado oscuro’ en una fotografı́a, nos podemos separar de lo que no
nos gusta y abrir-nos a un espació para la catarsis o la renovación. Durante
la sesión del autorretrato podemos empezar un dialogo entre nuestra mente
pensante y nuestro ‘gut’ para dibujar desde una fuente inagotable de
significados que han de ser expresados. El autorretrato puede ser muy
*Email: cristina@[Link]
This article is an expanded version of one which appeared in ILLYWORDS magazine,
Issue No. 24 in July 2008.
ISSN 1364–2537 print/ISSN 1469–5901 online
ß 2009 Taylor & Francis
DOI: 10.1080/13642530902723157
[Link]
52 C. Nuñez
poderoso. Forzándonos en el ‘ahora’, puede ayudarnos a percibir y
a expresar nuestra humanidad esencial en una fotografı́a. La decisión de
representar-se a uno mismo puede proporcionar lo que se dice aquı́ como
un ‘estado de gracia’: el sentimiento de sentirse el centro, el cual ocurre en
momentos del trabajo creativo en el cual las emociones son retenidas
porque nuestro self mas alto esta al mando. Este artı́culo es un resumen de
los pensamientos del autor en el uso terapéutico del auto-retrato y del
carácter personal de la narrativa reflejada en el uso de la primera persona.
L’autoritratto, un potente strumento per l’auto-terapia
In questo lavoro si sostiene che nell’era digitale, l’autoritratto permette
a chiunque di produrre istintivamente un’opera d’arte, senza saper nulla di
fotografia, e sempre più persone oggi sentono un forte stimolo verso l’auto-
rappresentazione. Guardare dentro la macchina fotografica e rilasciare
l’otturatore ci porta immediatamente al nostro primo processo essenziale
di definizione del sé; l’identificazione della nostra immagine nello
[Link] in una fotografia il nostro ‘lato oscuro’, siamo in
grado di separarci da ciò che non ci piace e aprire uno spazio per la catarsi
o per un rinnovamento. Durante una sessione di autoritratto possiamo
cominciare un dialogo tra la nostra mente pensante e il nostro ‘stomaco’ al
fine di trarre da una risorsa inesauribile di significati che necessitano di
essere espressi. L’autoritratto può essere incredibilmente empowering.
Mediante il forzarci nel qui ed ora, può aiutarci a percepire ed esprimere
la nostra umanità essenziale in una fotografia. La decisione di auto-
rappresentarsi può fornire ciò che è qui definito come uno ‘stato di grazia’:
la sensazione di centralità che soggiunge in momenti di lavoro creativo
dove le emozioni sono naturalmente trattenute poiché il nostro più alto sé è
in comando. Questo lavoro traccia i pensieri dell’autore riguardo all’uso
terapeutico dell’autoritratto e la natura personale della narrativa si riflette
nell’utilizzo della prima persona.
Das selbstportrait, ein kraftvolles werkzeug für die therapeutische
arbeit mit sich selbst
In diesem Artikel wird argumentiert, dass das digitale Zeitalter Menschen
ermöglicht, aus dem Bauch heraus Kunst zu produzieren, ohne irgendetwas
von Fotografie zu verstehen, und dass immer mehr Menschen den Drang
zur Selbstrepräsentation verspüren. Selbst vor der Kameralinse zu
stehen und den Auslöser zu betätigen leidet einen grundlegenden
Selbstdefinitionsprozess ein: Das Wahrnehmen unseres Bildnis im
Spiegel. Die Objektivierung unserer ‘‘dunklen Seite’’ durch die Fotografie
ermöglicht uns eine Trennung von dem was wir an uns nicht mögen und
öffnet somit den Raum für Katharsis und Erneuerung. Wir können etwa
während einer Selbstportrait-Sitzung ein Zwiegespräch zwischen
unserem rationalen Anteil und unseren ‘‘Gedärmen’’ führen, das sich aus
einer schier unerschöpflichen Quelle von Bedeutungen und
Sinngebungsprozessen speist, die ausgedrückt werden müssen; mehr noch,
werden wir ins ‘‘Hier und Jetzt’’ hineingedrängt, was uns dabei helfen kann,
unsere grundlegende Menschlichkeit im Foto zu erkennen und auszu-
drücken. Die Entscheidung des Selbstausdrucks per Fotografie kann dazu
dienen, was in diesem Artikel als ‘‘Zustand der Gnade’’ bezeichnet wird:
Eine Anmutung der Zentriertheit, die in Momenten kreativen Schaffens
entstehen kann, wenn unsere ‘‘höheres Selbst’’ die Führung über unsere
Emotionen übernommen hat. Dieser Artikel stellt einen Entwurf der
European Journal of Psychotherapy and Counselling 53
Gedanken des Autors dar zum therapeutischen Nutzen des Selbst-
Portraitierens und des persönlichen Charakters jener Narrative, die mithilfe
der Benutung der Ersten Person reflektiert werden.
With the self-portrait, anybody can produce a work of art
In the digital era self-portraiture enables anyone to produce a work of art
intuitively, without knowing anything about photography. For several years
I have been helping children, adolescents and adults from all walks of life to
make self portraits using my own camera, or letting them use their own small
digital cameras or cell phones. I give them the necessary directions so that their
attention is drawn to their inner life and emotions, which I consider the raw
material for art. Then I leave them alone to work. Everyone, as they release the
shutter, expresses an innate determination to affirm their existence, their
awareness, even if unconscious, that they are making art1.
A photographic work of art as I understand it is an image that encompasses
multiple and sometimes contrasting meanings: it deals intimately with the
human condition, it contains a rich diversity of stimuli to thought and feeling,
it has a special relationship with time . . . all within a single harmonious
configuration of visual and formal elements (Nuñez, 2008). The work of art
will remain in the hearts and minds of posterity, because anybody who chooses
to can relate to it in a profound way: it is universal.
According to Edmund Capon and Sandy Nairne, ‘creativity and the
concept of artistic freedom are frequently implied’ (Bond & Woodall, 2005,
p. 7) in the self-portrait: this is me, I am a creative being. It is a very dense and
solemn statement, which immediately produces a sense of shared humanity
with the viewer. Anthony Bond considers ‘self-portraits as representations of
artistic creativity’ and ‘as a second self or alter ego of the creative subject’.
‘Their true purpose’, he adds, ‘may be the projection of the idea of selfhood
from the artist to the viewer’ (Bond & Woodall, 2005, p. 12). Alfred Gell argues
that self-portraits ‘act like a person, a surrogate for the artist.’ (Gell, 1998
pp. 99–102). In my experience, an image of the self means I am creating my
own image, thus I am the creator of this image, even if in some cases these are
collaborative self-portraits: when left alone, they will decide what to do and
how to express their humanity, regardless of my directions.
In 2004 my youngest daughter just after we had taken a self-portrait
together with her sister, said ‘Mom, now I want to make a picture of me alone’.
She chose the setting, took her clothes off and picked the leopard cushion
seemingly to express her African roots. I placed my Rolleiflex on the tripod,
and just wound to the next picture after each shot. She was 3 years old at the
time, the age in which children begin to feel like individuals, separate from their
mother. She had just come back from her three-month trip to Senegal with her
dad. Her sister and I are white and her father is black, so she probably feels
different from us all. I thought it was essential for her to make a solemn
statement of her existence. I see the brown of her skin (Africa is warm) and
the blue of the wall (Europe is cold) as confirming the union of opposites.
54 C. Nuñez
Her body looks older and seems to express both the strength and tiredness
of a child who has been living in such different continents. Of course this is my
own interpretation, but as I see it, the self-portrait work of art speaks the voice
of the unconscious. At 3 she did not consciously plan this expression but it
wasn’t accidental. There was something essential to be said and she intuitively
knew she had to take action to express it.
She didn’t take any more significant self-portraits for a while. Then at 7,
again just after coming back from Senegal, she shot another series. The most
powerful picture is the one in which she was wearing her Senegalese trousers.
Here again she was intuitively talking about being different, being half-African,
half-European, and having learned to create her own inner roots.
M., a friend’s son who is three-and-a-half, took a series of self-portraits in
one day, responding to my invitation. I set the camera, gave him the cable
release and left him alone. The series of pictures show a very interesting
evolution: in the first one he looks vulnerable to me (but his little hand is
strong), he doesn’t look into the camera. Then he does look and decides to
climb up a tree, excited about his increasing power. And in the last one that day
he looks much older. He seems to have acquired some kind of unconscious self-
awareness and wisdom.
M’s pictures helped me realize that by making a self-portrait series
in a short time we can actually go through a very interesting inner process
of self-knowledge, and that this process is completely natural and intuitive,
even if unconscious.
But why is it that a three-year-old child responds so strongly to the camera
eye? What exactly is the effect of the camera eye and the shutter release? If this
were an adult, I would think it’s the idea of being immortalised that inspires
solemnity: we usually want to look our best! But young kids are not conscious
of this, so what else is there? According to Jacques Lacan, the child’s
first identification with his own image in the mirror is a crucial moment for
the perception of himself as an individual, and the matrix of every other
identification. So facing the camera lens and releasing the shutter can
immediately take us to that first essential process of the definition of the self.
Thanks to digital technology, more and more people today are taking self-
portraits. Flickr, YouTube, MySpace, Facebook and so on, are packed with
them, especially by adolescents and young people. I consider mobile phones as
a surrogate identity of the owner, but also an object for entertainment: apart
from games, the camera provides a means of expression, which adolescents
intuitively love to use. In 2005, my daughter’s friend S. was going through
a very tough period. His parents had separated and his father had gone to live
in China. He and his mother were living in somebody else’s house and at school
he was really struggling. Without my knowledge or guidance, he started to take
self-portraits spontaneously with his mobile phone, using the rapper gesture
‘respect’ – an open hand with two middle fingers united – respect for himself, of
course. He is now a very smart and strong young man, emotionally stable and
responsible. Watching him grow and looking at his work I understood that the
self-portrait can be self-healing for others too.
European Journal of Psychotherapy and Counselling 55
Triggering the creative process
The practice of the self-portrait can be incredibly empowering. It means using
photography to look inside ourselves. To work on our inner world as a way
of opening or deepening our unique creative process, which can be developed
with any form of artistic expression, or even life itself. To start a dialogue
between our thinking mind and our ‘gut’ to draw from an inexhaustible source
of meanings which must be expressed.
I imagine the ‘guts’ to be the region where all creativity comes from.
A meander of intestines, warm fluids and microscopic life, an environment
something akin to the primordial soup from which life on earth originally
sprang. It is also the reproductive area both for men and women, where
children are conceived, grow and are born. The centre of our body, the hara,
is the source of all life energy according to some oriental cultural practices
and beliefs. In the meanders of our guts we treasure our deepest emotions and
memories, even those forgotten or dormant. The self-portrait experience can
trigger a healthy ‘movement’ in our guts, liberating emotions or needs, which
must be expressed recurrently throughout our whole lives. It can free us to be
who we really are.
I met M and C just once at a friend’s house in Tuscany, where I invited
people to take their self-portraits with my camera. C had just had a stroke. He
walked stooping forwards, his grave eyes fixed on the ground, and he never
spoke to anyone. M was continuously telling him what to do, and he would just
obey. C insisted on taking their self-portrait, she didn’t like the idea. In the
pictures he suddenly stood upright and stared at the camera. He immediately
responded to the solemnity of the self-portrait by showing his determination to
communicate his inner strength. In the photos they became husband and wife
on an equal footing and found a way to express their communion on their 13th
wedding anniversary.
Inner dialogue in front of the camera
Facing the camera lens can be an opportunity for a unique experience
and a deep non-verbal dialogue. The human eye scrutinises the mechanical
eye, gazing into the bottomless pit in search of an image that captures
my vision of myself. It looks both inwardly and at the outside world, present
and future (Nuñez, 2008). Shot after shot I live through all my different
personas, searching in my unconscious for something I still do not know of
myself. I am focused on my interiority, even though the camera will mainly
register my outer appearance. I may judge myself, or control my behaviour
so that the image will be more acceptable. Whatever I do, I always succeed:
even if I pretend or hide, the picture of me pretending or hiding will be
significant.
Facing the void, the unknown, the feeling of being lost, is a precious state.
I might suffer, it might be painful, but it is immensely creative. By touching the
void, the emptiness where I am unable to create, I reset my ‘guts,’ wipe them
clean like a blank canvas. The secret is to look inside, face it, photograph it, get
56 C. Nuñez
lost in it. It is a kind of meditation. Introspection is essential to find inspiration
and fill my mind and heart once more with new ideas and projects.
Eckhart Tolle in ‘The Power of Now’ writes: ‘All true artists . . . create from
a place of no-mind, from inner stillness’ (Tolle, 1999, pp. 19–20), ‘a state of
absolute presence in the Now . . . that intensely alive state that is free of
time, free of problems, free of thinking, free of the burden of personality’
(Tolle, 1999, p. 42). The self-portrait, by forcing us into the Now, can help us
perceive and express our essential being in a photograph.
When I look at my 20 years of self-portraits I realize that the woman in
the photographs is not exactly me. I was a very nervous and dependent person,
but in my self-portraits I look like I am now: a more calm and reflective person.
Have I become like my self-portraits? Do these pictures show my true essence,
which was covered by the cloak of personality?
Art therapist Shaun McNiff states:
My artistic images help me to become more like them, to incorporate their
expressive and imaginative traits. Rather than approaching images negatively, as
indicators of what is wrong with me, I prefer a more imaginative attitude that
views the image as a step ahead of the reflecting mind, as a guide who shows me
where I can go and what I can be. (McNiff, 2004, p. 67)
The self-portrait experience is like peeling away the layers of an onion. Little by
little all the superficial aspects of myself fall away, so I can then express my true
essence.
The triple role of the self-portraitist
Anthony Bond states (Bond & Woodall, 2005, p. 12) that, through the act of
looking, the self-portraitist acquires a triple identity: author, subject and
spectator at one and the same time, and it is this that gives the self-portrait
its communicative power. The author draws the attention of the spectator, as
though whispering in their ear ‘this concerns you’. The invitation is to immerse
ourselves in the intricate dynamic of identities and relations between the
three roles, an exchange which ensures the author’s immortality in the hearts and
minds of posterity (Nuñez, 2008). The empathic experience between the artist
and the viewer makes the self-portrait a significant way to immortality in art.
According to Joanna Woodall (Bond & Woodall, 2005, p. 18), the self-
portraitist possesses an intrinsic power and freedom of action, which is akin
to that of the gods. As Michel Tournier has said (Tournier, 1986, p. 145), the
self-portrait is the only possible image of the creator (and his gaze) at the very
moment of creation (Nuñez, 2008). Many artists have painted themselves
representing Christ or divine figures, Albrecht Durer, etc. The self-portrait, as
Anthony Bond puts it, ‘constitutes the artist as a sovereign individual:
everything is ultimately subject to the creative ego’ (Bond & Woodall, 2005,
p. 12). Our creative self has something of the divine, because when we create
we have such a deep connection with ourselves that we can even anticipate
the times and foresee what human beings will be and need in the future.
This should be the artist’s social role.
European Journal of Psychotherapy and Counselling 57
Compulsive representation of the self: the autobiographical
self-portrait project
Following Rembrandt and Van Gogh, more and more people today feel
a strong urge towards self-representation, to leave a lasting image of themselves
which will outlive them. This need may be felt more urgently at certain
moments of our lives when our identity is in question, or it may respond to the
deeper compulsion of the artist who, as Bob Dylan says, is in a constant state
of becoming: every seven years we change all the cells in our body and with
every major change we must re-programme our identity (Nuñez, 2008).
The self-portrait experience in an autobiographical project will contain the
essence of the self and its unique evolution in life: difficult emotions, qualities
and defects, dreams, relationship dynamics, success and failure. We might have
the perception of seeing many faces we do not recognise, but with time we
might understand their meaning.
As an activator of the creative process, the self-portrait project can become
a sort of ‘mother’ project, giving expression to raw material for new creative
projects or ideas. Each time our identity is challenged by major changes in
our lives, we must come back to our guts to re-activate the channel of
communication with the mind, activate the ‘gut movement’ to find the new
emotions/ideas/issues that need to be expressed. During work on the mother
project or once it is finished, new ‘child projects’ will emerge for a period until
the mother has exhausted her fertility. Then we will have to go back to our guts
for a new mother project.
The catharsis of performing the self
The self-portrait is also a particularly powerful way of expressing problematic
feelings and emotions. By objectifying ‘the dark side’ in a photograph, we
separate ourselves from what we dislike and open up a space for catharsis or
renewal. The barriers to our essential Being fall away (Nuñez, 2008). In 2004,
a very difficult year for me, I took self-portraits regularly almost once a week.
I shot a picture of myself crying and 20 minutes later a series of me dancing.
Later on, I took enraged self-portraits to release the tension before an
important meeting or job, risking strange looks from my neighbours or passers-
by. The making of the image becomes a kind of punching bag, providing
a sense of liberation and further material for introjection, making it easier
for us to accept ourselves as we really are and immediately increasing our
self-esteem.
Frida Kahlo used the canvas in the same way, ‘as a cathartic release
of emotion’ according to Jean Ivy in ‘The Exploration of the Self: what artists
find when they search in the mirror’:
Kahlo created some fifty-five self-portraits as a kind of therapy to face the most
troubling events of her life; her leg crippled from polio, permanent injuries from
a bus accident, abortions, and botched surgeries. In person, Kahlo dressed in
long, rich fabrics and covered herself in jewellery, she hid her deformities beneath
an austere persona. In her portraits she could come out from hiding and reveal
58 C. Nuñez
her troubles in paint. In that sense, her self-portraits are both tragic and
triumphant. Just as Rembrandt could look at himself in the mirror at the end
of his life and accept his ageing body and face, Kahlo could accept and feel
comfortable revealing her afflictions. But unlike Vincent van Gogh who searched
for an answer in his self-portraits, Frida Kahlo knew the answers. (Ivy, internet)
Besides looking inside, every self-portrait is always a form of performance.
As Anthony Bond states ‘It is virtually impossible to not to self-consciously
construct your own image’ (Bond & Woodall, 2005, p. 39). All our action, our
acting, is inevitably mediated by how we want others to see us. Performance in
art is based on the concept of the relationship between the artist’s mind and
body, with the collaboration of the spectator. Yet there remains a space, an
intense inner dialogue of self-perception, self-questioning, judgement, thought
and acceptance, which I believe is independent of the other’s gaze. It is
a wonderfully powerful process, which needs no words because the creative
process and the work of art itself contain everything and have no need to be
translated to hit the target.
The decision to represent oneself can provide what I call a ‘state of grace’:
the feeling of centeredness that occurs in moments of creative work in which
the emotions are naturally retained because our superior ego is in command.
There is a positive tension and detachment in which action is flowing freely.
If we want to express strong emotions in a self-portrait and they will not come
naturally, we have to start acting, we have to perform. The important thing
is not to be ‘real’ but to abandon ourselves, lose ourselves, to the performance
and the emotion. And the images will certainly carry some significant truths.
Something unexpected will happen and the experience will culminate in the
work of art, which will continue to talk to us in time.
Performance also means stepping outside of oneself, imagining oneself as
someone else. I once asked a young Swedish drug addict to take a self-portrait
representing a character he liked. He chose Aragorn, the king in ‘Lord of the
Rings’, who feels inadequate to his role at the beginning, but becomes the king
in the end. He took his self-portrait, transforming himself completely and
expressing a huge charisma, a super partes quality and love for ‘his people’.
This beautiful picture showed him that he actually possessed these qualities.
He hung the picture on his bedroom wall, and one year later he stopped taking
drugs.
Young Japanese artist Tomoko Sawada has published a wonderful little
book called ‘ID 400’ in which are presented passport photos of herself as
four hundred different women. Here is the astonishing plasticity of the ego,
as Stefano Ferrari points out in his book, ‘The Mirror of the Ego – Self-portrait
and Psychology’, ‘the Promethean need to be and to try everything . . .
to identify oneself with new personalities, to become the other’ (Ferrari,
2002, p. 14). And again, ‘this drive, this urge to recognise and express the
multiplicity of identities which coexist within each of us is a defining
characteristic of our times’ (Ferrari, 2002, p. 114).
European Journal of Psychotherapy and Counselling 59
The body of the artist
In the self-portrait, the body of the artist can convey the pure expression
of human needs and thereby serve the community. Sophie Calle puts her own life
into an artistic performance by anonymously asking a detective to follow her or
working as a cleaning woman in a Venetian hotel. Jo Spence turned her calvary
with breast cancer into a work of art with a social and political intent, publishing
a manifesto about the freedom of showing one’s own ugly body in a work
of art. Jenny Saville shows her grotesque and monstrous body as a political
statement against the idealisation of the perfect body by the media. Korean artist
Kimsooja films herself as a panhandler in the middle of the street in her photo
and video work – ‘the needle woman’ who unites east and western cultures.
The naked body can act as a symbol for human interiority and intimacy,
immersing the viewer in the psychological dimension. What is normally hidden
can come to light in a work of art. Moreover, nakedness can help express
the essence of the self and bring the artist closer to his/her own childhood,
to the primal relationship with mother. The flesh opens the doors to birth,
procreation, sexuality, metabolic functions (like eating and defecating) and
death, all of which inspire myriad emotions and thoughts, which can easily
be present in the picture. Taking self-portraits of one’s own naked body is
certainly an effective way of plunging into one’s own subconscious mind and
unknowingly expressing a rich vein of psychological material.
Inner image vs. outer image
Many of us fear the camera lens. In most cases I believe this stems from
a problematic relationship with our own image the gap between how we see
ourselves (which remains more or less unchanged from adolescence or infancy)
and the image that we see in the mirror. For Roland Barthes photography
neither represents nor reflects reality, rather it gives it meaning. We are not our
self-portrait, we are much more. That is what makes the self-portrait such
a valuable tool in reuniting our inner and outer images, a way of using our
actual bodies and faces to discover our real selves (Nuñez, 2008). It is also
a way to give ourselves the attention we need and to give others something
intimate. When we feel lost or ill-defined or unimportant, we instinctively
understand self-portrait as a powerful tool to reverse the situation, to stir the
guts, to energise and vivify our existence.
The self-portrait, through the act of pressing the shutter, contributes
to the union of the inner and outer image of the self, of the mind and body,
of the different aspects of the self, because while we release the shutter we say
yes to our whole self and thus we accept it completely. The self-portrait
experience is a voyage into our unconsciousness, it can be shocking or
surprising, but never really damaging, since the acceptance it carries produces
an essentially positive outcome.
60 C. Nuñez
The artistic process is therapeutic
Barthes also said that what we see in an image is subjective. Each one of us will
see a different punctum in an image, which gives the power to the picture.
But not all photographs will give a substantial meaning to reality, becoming
universal. Only works of art do so. When responding to photographs, we
should make a clear distinction between two cases: when the photo is simply
showing us an object (where we respond to the object), or when the photo
is a work of art (we respond to the picture itself).
This is why in my workshops we work on the perception and choice of the
work of art, using a series of precise aesthetic and conceptual criteria
(multiplicity of meaning, sense of time, dialogue between the elements in the
picture, presence of an icon, etc). Working with my self-portrait method, most
sessions usually produce at least one work of art. We don’t need to dwell on the
other photographs, which talk about things we know already. The work of art
speaks the voice of the unconscious: it is so meaningful and communicative
that we only need to hang it on the wall for the job to be done. This is art’s
healing capacity.
In reality art and therapy are intimately connected. Most artists feel a need
to produce a work of art in order to feel better and their raw material are
emotions (ideas spring from emotions or needs), or even troubles or inner pain.
The decision to create art can come from the need to express emotions, to
define identity or to fulfil a sort of social mission (we have something to say,
and this must be said). Looking at what has been done, the artist can perceive,
introject again the new message and the work will continue to talk to him,
it will contain his experience. Troubles and inner pain can increase the need to
create and communicate not only in artists, but in all human beings. If it is true
that today technology and the self-portrait allows anybody to produce art
without any expertise, then people who suffer from mental pathologies have the
opportunity – if necessary with an artists’ initial guidance – to produce great
art, since the deeper they suffer, the more intense and universal their work can
become. Shaun McNiff points out ‘how emotional states profoundly influence
expression, how art may be an expressive lifeline in periods of crisis, and
how difficult times and emotional upheaval offer a gate of access to the
archetypal flow of artistic expression and its medicines’ (McNiff, 2004, p. 47).
In producing art, besides channelling and transforming pain and thereby
raising their self-esteem, mentally disturbed patients can immediately perform
a valuable social role: by expressing present and future human needs, they
inspire us to remain connected to our inner selves, in a society largely – and
unhappily – focused on materialism and economic growth.
The self-portrait experience is even more closely connected to therapy.
First of all because we are the subject of our own work of art – we can’t escape,
we are at our most vulnerable. Secondly, because the inner dialogue we have in
front of the camera (or mirror in painting) is the same inner process of all our
therapy at length – self-perception, self-questioning, judgement, thought and
acceptance- and thirdly, because the multiple meanings of the self-portrait
work of art contribute to unifying the different aspects of the human being.
European Journal of Psychotherapy and Counselling 61
According to Tolle, ‘the ego perceives itself as a separate fragment in
a hostile universe, with no real inner connection to any other being, surrounded
by other egos which it either sees as a potential threat or which it will attempt
to use for its own ends’ (Tolle, 1999, p. 150). So freeing ourselves from the ego
means uniting instead of separating, uniting our inner and outer image, and the
different aspects of the self.
To complete the process, however, it is necessary (I would say
indispensable) to communicate this discovery to others. The artist, the self-
portraitist, by his constant effort of introspection, separates himself from the
outside world. This is often the root of his existential suffering, something that
more and more people experience nowadays. By intimately sharing our work
with an audience we have the chance to free ourselves from the confines of
the ego and, as in Zen, become one with the cosmos.
Note
1. To get a clearer picture of how my method works in practice and see some of the
images referred to below, please visit [Link]
References
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Bond, A., & Woodall, J. (2005). Self Portrait, renaissance to contemporary. Catalogue to
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Calle, S. (2002). Double jeux. Arles: Actes Sud.
Dylan, B. (2005). Chronicles. London: Pocket Books.
Ferrari, S. (2002). Lo specchio dell’Io, autoritratto e psicologia. Bari-Roma: Laterza.
Gell, A. (1998). Art and agency: An anthropological theory. London: Clarendon Press.
Ivy, J. The exploration of the self. What artists find when they search in the mirror.
Retrieved March, 2008 from, [Link]
Lacan, J. (2007). Ecrits: The first complete edition in english. London: W.W. Norton
& Co.
McNiff, S. (2004). Art heals: How creativity heals the soul. Boston, MA: Shambhala.
Nuñez, C. (2008). The self-portrait experience. Retreived, January 1, 2008 from, http://
[Link]/projects/illywords/ENG/HTML/magazine_eng.htm
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