Art is essential to the human capacity to tolerate uncertainty
An interview with Nana Zhvitiashvili, curator and art psychotherapist who has facilitated the professional collaboration between British and Russian art therapists
Nana Zhvitiashvili is a curator, art historian, an art psychotherapist and family therapy practitioner with more than fifteen years of experience working in the National Health Service and the private health care and charity sectors in London. After more than ten years at the State Russian Museum in Saint Petersburg, Nana Zhvitiashvili steered her professional trajectory towards art psychotherapy by earning a qualification in the field from Goldsmiths College, University of London. In the early 1990s, she belonged to the generation of young curators who felt empowered by the changes happening in post-soviet Russia. It was Zhvitiashvili’s activity that played a key role in the State Russian Museum becoming one of the first museums in Russia to redefine its role with the aim of being more inclusive and accessible for people living with disabilities. Those innovations that were implemented in the museum’s Education Department back then are still being developed today.
Zhvitiashvili is a member of The British Association of Art Therapists and is actively involved in its subgroups (“Creative Response – Art Therapy and Loss”, and “Museums and Art Therapy”). She has facilitated the process of professional collaboration between British and Russian art therapists, introducing innovative elements of British practice to Russian practitioners. During the following conversation, we repeatedly touched upon the cross-cultural aspect of the psychotherapy field in both countries, as well as on issues concerning the current global state of emergency in both health and culture and how it has affected the direction of art psychotherapy as the world faces this collective trauma.
To start, could you outline the path that led you to art therapy, seeing as your initial professional activity was in the traditional field of art curation?
It all started in the late 1980s in Saint Petersburg, where I was working as a curator at the State Russian Museum. In 1991 I curated “Through Different Eyes”, a major exhibition of artworks by people living with various disabilities. When we started collecting the artworks, we discovered a disguised reality – people with different disabilities were totally hidden away from society and marginalised. As in the early 1990s I belonged to the generation of young curators who felt empowered by the changes happening in post-Soviet Russia, I thought that the museum could enable these people to have a voice.
That was the time of Perestroika, a time of many social-economical changes happening in the country: the rise of nationalism, political conflicts in society, a high level of unemployment, etc. There was an intense distrust of the mega-narratives of the Soviet era that had led to a problematisation of the museum as a central tool in regulating cultural politics. Our generation felt responsible for initiating a radical shift in the understanding of the need for wider integration of people on the margins of our society. Museum curators in Russia and in other countries started to re-think the idea of representation of marginalised people in a public space, to reflect on new ways of interpreting museum collections, and to address the issue of engagement. It was basically a reconsideration of some of the fundamental philosophies upon which museums in Russia operated.
It was really interesting that this exhibition not only gave voice to people who had been marginalised for decades in the Soviet Union, but it also provoked very heated debates in society about how these voices can be heard – how these people can be empowered to deliver their own personal narratives. The outcome of this exhibition was the formation of an art therapy programme (within the Educational department at the State Russian Museum), which aimed at widening inclusion and access to the museum. We tried to engage people who were living with learning disabilities and mental health conditions.
In 1991 I met my colleague Olga Platonova, who was a psychologist, practising methods of art therapy. We formed a partnership and started the first inclusive museum programme in Russia, named “Step towards”. Obviously, we encountered many challenges on our way because there were no ready “recipes” on how to establish an art therapy programme in the museum – it was a trial and error process. We started to work with different groups in the museum, such as people with learning difficulties, people with visual impairment, and orphans. And we thought very carefully about how to do it collaboratively and in a way in which we are not imposing our own ideas, but listening to the people coming to us. So that’s how the first art therapy programme began at the museum and its legacy is still very resonant in many museums across the country!
But then I realised that I lack knowledge and expertise in the specific area of art therapy, and I decided to go and train in the UK as an art psychotherapist. Later on, I did additional training in systemic family therapy and group analysis. This dual expertise and experience of working as a museum curator and as an art therapist helped me to continue museum-based art therapy work in the UK with oncology patients.
When you received your qualification in art psychotherapy, it was the beginning of the new millennium (2003). How was this profession perceived at the time in Russia?
Art therapy is still quite not as established in Russia as it is in the UK. I suppose that at that time (the early 2000s), it was viewed as something new and unknown – there was no proper training, no evidence, no research. However, the Association of Art Therapy, which promotes education, research and professional development in art therapy, was established in 1997 in Russia. That was a positive move! If we talk about museum-based art therapy, it was probably viewed with a degree of scepsis because many museums were very critical of this idea – why should museums take on responsibility and offer art therapy to people? That is not the museum’s role; that is not the museum's place! Since then, slow and steady progress has been made – the discourses of inclusion and well-being have become dominant in the museum community and many cultural institutions now engage hard-to-reach audiences and offer well-being programmes. In my opinion, museums have advanced so much in this field, but this area of practice still requires a lot of research to be done.
How has the importance of museum-based art therapy and art therapy as a profession changed up to the present day? Compared to the UK, at which stage is Russia?
As I mentioned before, inclusion is very mainstream in the museum community now, and people really think about it as a part of their professional ethos. But obviously, we need to consider many factors. If people are going to offer art therapy in a museum, they have to understand the purpose of the work, what kind of professionals they will be employing, how to evaluate the outcomes, and what is the long-term commitment to this type of project. We can see a lot of diverse museum-based art therapy projects in the UK, for example: the cross-sectoral project initiated by art therapists Ali Coles and Fiona Harrison for young adults with severe mental health difficulties – a collaboration between Glocester Foundation Trust and museums in Glocester; as well as the project between Oxleas NHS Foundation Trust and Tate Britain gallery, which is aimed at producing art-based information prescriptions to support people with borderline personality and their carers.
Art therapy in the UK has changed in the sense that it has become more widely recognised as an effective intervention. In the last 20 years, since the Art Therapy Practice Research Network was established (as part of BAAT), there has been a lot of essential research delivering evidence on the efficacy of art therapy in mental health, education, bereavement and other areas. It is interesting to see how art therapy services have integrated the voices of service-users: it is about how we share power with our clients, and how we create contexts in which co-production of knowledge with our clients can be achieved.
In the last 20 years, since the Art Therapy Practice Research Network was established (as part of BAAT), there has been a lot of essential research delivering evidence on the efficacy of art therapy in mental health, education, bereavement and other areas.
In Russia, art therapy has become a little bit more established. I’ve taught several courses in Moscow and Saint Petersburg over the last ten years, and I am happy to say that these types of postgraduate programmes now offer academic rigour and effective opportunities to practice art therapy in different contexts. There is the annual festival of integrative creative therapies which was established ten years ago by my colleague Varvara Sidorova and her team. It has been an amazing platform for cross-cultural dialogue and the exchange of ideas between creative therapists across the world. In my opinion, when political tensions are high, there is still a possibility for like-minded professional people to be connected in a meaningful way.
You recently contributed to the book “Art Therapy in Museums and Galleries: Reframing Practice” (2020) edited by Ali Coles and Helen Jury. Could you elaborate on your work in the book? What was its keynote?
I think this book is quite seminal because it brings together case studies across the world on how art therapy works in the museum field. In my chapter, I talk about some of the key factors which, in my experience, may define the success of this type of project.
In this chapter, I talk about the importance of cross-sectoral collaborations and partnerships: how we negotiate shared goals and expectations when working with hospitals and schools, and also how we make use of diverse skills of people from different professional backgrounds.
I reflect on the importance of interpreting museum collections from multiple perspectives as it offers more opportunities for meaning-making in the therapy process. Reflective practice is also noted – the way we reshape established approaches of the museum towards people with disabilities or people living with mental health illnesses, and how we maintain a curious stance and not make assumptions about the people we with work with. I suggest that identifying evaluation tools and not relying on just anecdotal evidence is essential in museum-based art therapy practice. I also talk about my individual perspective as an art therapist and as a museum curator, and how sometimes these two positions feed off each other: curators, just like therapists, engage people, but they do it by creating narratives and communicating ideas through objects. Museums no longer project their authority onto the people, but they validate people’s emotional and cognitive experiences in relation to museum artefacts. Museums can be seen as containers of material and non-material values that provide opportunities for exploration, and this idea is resonant with a therapeutic concept of containment as a safe space where difficult feelings and stories can be examined.
Museums can be seen as containers of material and non-material values that provide opportunities for exploration, and this idea is resonant with a therapeutic concept of containment as a safe space where difficult feelings and stories can be examined.
What steps have museums in Russia currently taken in this direction of inclusion?
There has been a really huge shift in understanding what inclusion is in the museum field, and the museum community is wholeheartedly embracing this discourse of inclusion. In 2017 The Russian National Committee of The ICOM (International Council of Museums) launched the long-term programme “Inclusive Museum” aimed at developing the best practices of socialisation and creative rehabilitation of people with disabilities. They produced educational materials, organised festivals and events, shared best practices. This initiative had a huge impact and, as a result, we can see how many museums in Russia adopted an inclusive approach by either establishing a dedicated department or employing a trained person to develop inclusive programmes.
You have facilitated the process of professional collaboration between British and Russian art therapists, introducing innovative elements of British practice to Russian practitioners.
This is the project we did a while ago in collaboration with the British Association of Art Therapists and the British Council in Russia. We started a two-year training course for 20 people (postgraduate students) that was based on the British model of art therapy education, combining theory and experiential learning. This collaboration was not only about educating those 20 people (who have been practicing art therapy in Russia ever since), but also about starting a dialogue and learning from each other. As a result, we published the book “Art Therapy. Dialogues: Russia – Britain” (2008, Saint Petersburg), introducing practices from both countries.
In this context, I would like to ask about cross-cultural differences and similarities.
When we talk about cross-cultural differences and similarities, we have to think about how we interact across borders and differences – geographical, political, cultural, and social ones. And how we relate to “the other”: this involves focusing on how we are viewed by others, and how others’ views of us organise the way we create meaningful conversations. It is also about being aware of our blind spots and staying reflexive and curious.
Regarding cross-cultural differences and similarities and the project mentioned above – yes, it was very much based on the British model of art therapy education, but it was a process of mutual learning. Art therapy operates in different cultural, political and social contexts in Russia and in the UK, so we had many discussions with our British colleagues about the specifics of it. For instance, we reflected on the well-established traditions of psychological practices in both countries. Sometimes, we are afraid of talking about differences, but if we take a risk and examine our position in relation to Otherness, we can dismantle many biases and prejudiced ideas.
There is a very useful concept in systemic practice called SOCIAL GRACES, an abbreviation of the following characteristics: gender, geography, race, religion, age, ability, appearance, class, culture, ethnicity, education, employment, sexuality, sexual orientation, spirituality. These characteristics might define who we are and how we interact. It is really helpful in terms of how we talk about similarities and differences between people and how we address visible and invisible biases when we encounter “the other”. Also, how we sometimes refuse to be reduced to one characteristic and embrace the multiplicity of our identity. So, I suppose when we talk about cross-cultural interactions, we have to think about different cultural contexts and how we create partnerships in a collaborative way: by using our cultural sensitivity in addressing “the other” in a respectful and non-reductive way.
How has this time in which the pandemic closed down everything affected the course of museums? What are things that COVID-19 has shed light on?
The pandemic has been, and still is, an event of enormous magnitude. The pandemic has impacted the very complex and multilayered ecosystem of the cultural sector in many ways – in terms of creativity, in terms of production, and in terms of access to cultural heritage.
At the beginning of the pandemic, statistics indicated the closure of 90% of museums across the world. But we know that museums play a vital role in sustaining resilience in society – the connection between museums and well-being has been well established and documented. Art therapy in museums, to some extent, is a case of maintaining or improving well-being. I feel that the pandemic has galvanised museums’ efforts in rethinking their role in helping people to maintain physical and emotional well-being, and in looking for innovative ways of engaging people. For instance, The National Gallery in London introduced slow-looking sessions during the first lockdown: people were invited into a safe online space to look at the art works from the museum collection and think about their own emotional and physical response. These sessions not only enabled viewers to enjoy art, but also offered a particular way of regulating some difficult emotions (anxiety, fear, panic) that might have been triggered by the pandemic. Similar online projects that aim at breaking the barriers of social isolation through group online sessions have been initiated by the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts. But the pandemic also reminded us of the inequalities that exist in different societies, for example, in terms of having digital access. Many museums started to offer online programmes, lectures, exhibitions, yet many people still have limited access to online content. Therefore, it is essential to promote access for everyone, especially vulnerable and marginalised people.
I feel that the pandemic has galvanised museums’ efforts in rethinking their role in helping people to maintain physical and emotional well-being, and in looking for innovative ways of engaging people.
Researchers talk about therapeutic and life-affirming practices in the museum context – that museums can foster a fulfillment of social identity, a sense of purpose, new skills and self-esteem. For example, in the wonderful book “Museums, Health and Wellbeing” (2013), Helen Chatterjee and Guy Noble elaborate on the concept of cultural participation and its health benefits by presenting several case studies and convincing research. However, it is still a debatable concept in the museum community.
Concerning the role of museums during the pandemic, it seems to me that the essential issue of health has become very central in our life, and museums can play an important part in offering wellbeing practices for people.
What does this crisis mean for art therapists?
In March 2020 many health professionals suddenly found themselves on the frontline, providing essential services. All of a sudden we had to go online – many therapists working for mental health services were instructed to provide psychotherapy and art therapy online within a matter of days. We also had to provide support for patients and their families who were experiencing the most serious consequences of Covid-19 illness and death – it was very dramatic! Others experienced abrupt endings with clients, particularly for art therapists working with children in mainstream education and the voluntary sector – in some cases, with no closure or access to follow-up contact. One of the challenges of this shared-reality crisis was that there were no experts nor was advice given to address this lack of closure and continuity, because nobody really knew what was going to happen – issues often did not stay static but continued to change and present new challenges to us. We were constantly in the process of reconsidering, reevaluating, and rethinking our practices.
I have to mention a quote in this conversation about the psychological impact of the pandemic. The researcher Mario Perini describes how a biological outbreak is often followed by a psychological outbreak of fear, suspicion, panic and stigma, which is, in turn, followed by social and politically sanctioned changes in cultural and social behaviour. He writes: “The fear of contagion and infectious epidemics has some very specific characteristics. One is the fear of the invisible, something that is among us but cannot be seen, because it is too little (like bacteria and viruses), too big (like pollution, radioactivity, the stock market, or an epidemic process), or homely and familiar, like air, water, food, the next-door neighbour, the members of our family. The core unconscious fantasy in the fear of epidemics is that ‘the enemy is among us or even one of us.’ [..] Its hallmark is a set of paranoid defences, involving split (between the guilty and the innocent, the pure and the contaminated) and projection of guilt and blame on individuals and groups supposed responsible for contagion”.
This is a very interesting quote that illustrates how we all have been thrown into this new era and now face major changes. In the UK, I think we are only now starting to see the consequences of this pandemic. As an art psychotherapist, I am currently working on a project that looks at bereavement during the time of the pandemic – how families experienced their grief while being deprived of the opportunity to see their loved ones in hospitals, or not being able to utilise support from their extended community of family and friends due to pandemic restrictions. There is heightened demand for therapeutic and counselling services because people’s mental and physical health has been significantly affected.
In the current health emergency, there is additional complexity as we work with and live through this new phenomenon of “collective trauma”. A trauma of this magnitude is difficult to comprehend; we’re still dealing with it and we do not know what the long-lasting consequences of that will be. The threat is not visible, yet we are required to moderate our behaviour and social interactions in ways that may trigger suspicion and activate projections of our fear onto others. But I have to mention some positive outcomes of this pandemic, such as the adaptability and creativity of many of my therapist colleagues who were able to transform their practice in a short space of time and make it more accessible for people by moving their therapy sessions online.
In the current health emergency, there is additional complexity as we work with and live through this new phenomenon of “collective trauma”.
It is completely new material for professionals and I expect there will be many future new findings as a result.
It is ongoing research. The work that we are now engaged in, whether it is face-to-face services or through online therapy, will in the future support our clients and colleagues with information on the impact of social isolation and confinement upon emotional well-being and mental health. Current research initiated by Glasgow University is looking at the impact of self-isolation and the predisposing factors that might heighten a risk of depression, anxiety and suicide; it is envisaged that there will be a growing need for extensive responsive counselling and therapy services during the long-term recovery period. People are now starting to comprehend and reflect on the consequences of this event.
Current research initiated by Glasgow University is looking at the impact of self-isolation and the predisposing factors that might heighten a risk of depression, anxiety and suicide; it is envisaged that there will be a growing need for extensive responsive counselling and therapy services during the long-term recovery period.
In your personal point of view, is contemporary art really a suitable environment for self-exploring, self-discovery and healing?
That’s a very interesting question, and I suppose this debate has been going on for a while. I would direct you to the most recent article by my colleagues Elisabeth Ioannidis and Helen Jury. They recently did a project at The National Museum of Contemporary Art in Athens, in which they looked at engaging people with mental health conditions in conversations about contemporary art. We know that looking at artworks might be helpful in facilitating thoughts and feelings. Their paper examines how these artworks by contemporary artists became evocative as transformational objects that could bring about change in a person’s life. In the context of this project, a group of people discussed selected contemporary art pieces and established links between them and their personal life narratives. At the end of the project, participants reported that focused discussions about contemporary art in the museum supported their cohesive sense of self (how we shape our identity), a sense of universality (how and where we belong), and the importance of relationships (how we can be validated by other people, or validate our own experiences and voices).
I think that contemporary art invites us to be active in the process of perceiving and interpreting it, rather than being passive contemplators. Some researchers regard museums as protective places for therapeutic and transformational experiences. Contemporary art offers us what Winnicott would call “potential space for play” – a space where we can experiment with ideas, play with our creativity, and form new connections. In a way, contemporary art (and museums as well) can become a “symbolic third” between an individual and the cultural sphere.
I think that contemporary art invites us to be active in the process of perceiving and interpreting it, rather than being passive contemplators.
There is the following premise: “Art is not essential for life/survival, but it is essential for living.” How would you paraphrase or add to this?
My perspective would be that art is essential in terms of our human capacity to tolerate uncertainty, which can then be transformed into a new vision. It can enable us to think outside the box and manage the complexity of our inner and outer worlds; art can also help us in generating new ideas, which is something that can’t be imitated by artificial intelligence.
In relation to museum-based art therapy and its potential, museums document, organise and store objects – they are in tune with our basic human need to make order out of chaos. Museum displays are often organised by a linear sense of time: for people who are traumatised, museums may offer a way of creating a cohesive narrative, and therefore traumatic memories can also be organised in a psychologically manageable way. For instance, Bessel van der Kolk, a psychiatrist and researcher in the field of post-traumatic stress, puts it this way: “The different sensations that entered the brain at the time of trauma are not properly assembled into a story”. Therefore, by looking at, reflecting upon, or making art, we may help someone give expression to their traumatic experiences as well as help them make sense of them and organise them. On a somatic level, with slow-looking, group discussions about art, and art-making in response to art, we use our body’s own coping reactions and other methods to mindfully support the regulation of powerful effects such as fear and anxiety. I believe art has proven over centuries to be an amazing activity for us to engage with.
