Art Therapy

Because getting creative is the other missing piece in your wellness puzzle

Photo by Debby Hudson on Unsplash

“The arts” are often spoken about as enrichment — something that adds colour once the serious business of life has been taken care of. Nice to have, but not essential. But neuroscience tells a different story.

In the book Your Brain on Art: How the Arts transform Us, Susan Magsamen, a researcher specialising in the science of learning and creativity, and designer Ivy Ross, make a compelling case that engaging with art — and crucially, making it — is not a luxury but a biological necessity. What was particularly striking to me is that the brain appears to respond differently when we make something versus when we simply consume it. Passive viewing has benefits (see below) — but active creation recruits deeper networks.

Through research and studies they have proven that creative activity helps regulate the nervous system, lower stress, improve mood, and increase our capacity for attention, empathy, and meaning-making. It activates reward pathways, calms threat responses, and supports cognitive flexibility.

Put simply, getting creative (which could be anything from painting and pottery to knitting or gardening) is so potent because it engages many different biological systems and parts of the brain at once — sensory, emotional, cognitive, and motor. We are not just soothed by the act of making; we are integrated. Body, mind, and emotion coming back into conversation with each other.

But as mentioned, even visiting a gallery, museum or theatre makes a difference. Large-scale population studies in the UK have shown that people who regularly engage with the arts — even as little as once or twice a year — have a significantly lower risk of premature death, with more frequent engagement associated with even greater longevity benefits! In other words, creative and cultural participation doesn’t just make life richer. It appears to help make it longer.

And yet, somewhere along the way, for adults, the practice of creativity has become something we outsource — to professionals, to institutions, to people we believe are intrinsically “talented.” “I’m just not that creative” is often said with the same certainty as a medical diagnosis. A door quietly closed. But creativity is not a personality trait. It is a fundamental of being human. We are biologically wired for it. Since the dawn of time man has revelled in mark-making as an expression of identity. But just because certain forms have been deemed ‘good’ or worthy of adulation, doesn't need to exclude the rest of us from having a go.

This is something Julia Cameron, the artist and writer best known for The Artist’s Way, has spent decades gently insisting upon (I’m currently working through her follow up, Walking in this World: The Practical Art of Creativity). In her work, creativity is not about producing something impressive, let alone commercial. It is about listening, responding, and staying in relationship with oneself. Most creative blocks, she argues, are not a lack of ability but a residue of early judgement — a comment at school, a comparison, a moment when expression was mocked.

The result is not that we stop being creative. We simply stop allowing ourselves to be.

When that happens, we don’t just lose art. We lose a way of processing experience. We lose a means of emotional expression — a way for feelings that are difficult to name, organise, or verbalise to find form instead. Making art allows emotion to move through the body and onto the page, the surface, or the object because the neural systems involved in creativity sit in close relationship to those that process emotion, sensation, and memory. When we create, we bypass purely verbal thinking and give shape to what might otherwise remain locked inside. So if we don’t allow our innate creativity expression, we also lose a tool for emotional digestion, for play, for exploration without outcome. And in a culture already heavy with optimisation and performance, that loss really matters.

“What the arts do to our brains and bodies allows us to give voice to important messages, reveal our emotions, drive innovation, spark creativity, raise ethical and moral issues, and shepherd in a new era of humanity.” Your Brain on Art

So how can I make space for creativity at home?

Once we accept how vital creative expression is to our emotional and neurological wellbeing, the question becomes a practical one: where does it live at home? For, if there is no space for making art in the home, then art is unlikely to be made at all — no matter how good our intentions. And yet, that space does not need to be a dedicated studio, a spare room, or anything remotely idealised. It simply needs to exist.

This is a central premise of my forthcoming book, currently being written, in which I explore the home as an emotional landscape shaped by seven archetypes — different ways our spaces can support our inner needs. One of these is the Studio: not a professional workspace or a place of productivity, but an archetype concerned with creativity, exploration, and emotional expression in process. The Studio can be a corner of a table, a shelf with materials ready to hand, a notebook left open rather than tucked away. Its power lies not in its scale, but in its enabling permission.

When space is made for creativity in this way, art stops being something that requires preparation, justification, or confidence. It becomes part of everyday life — a way of thinking, feeling, and making sense of experience as it unfolds. And that, perhaps, is where its real power lies. Which brings us back to the question most people quietly ask: all of this sounds lovely, but how do I make art a daily practise?

Let’s make art a daily habit!

This is where initiatives like Art2Life and #the100DayProject are so instructive — not because they promise artistic mastery, but because they remove intimidation from the act of making.

Nicholas Wilton’s work at Art2Life consistently reframes art as process rather than product. Curiosity over confidence. Showing up over showing off. The emphasis is not on being “good” but on staying in relationship with materials, marks, colour, time. It is art as a living conversation, not a performance review.

Similarly, the #100DayProject (officially starting this year on 22 February) is powerful precisely because it is modest. One small act, repeated daily. Its guidelines suggest you pick something to do that takes no more than 5-10 minutes. If it’s too complicated, you won’t keep it up — it could be a page of doodles while you drink your morning cuppa, some embroidery, making a pom pom, or a sketch from a photo penned on your commute.

At its core, I believe that “art” (however we choose to define it) is a willingness to begin badly and continue anyway. Because when we make art, whether at the kitchen table, in the margins of a notebook, or on the train, we are not indulging ourselves. We are regulating our nervous systems. Think of it as a form of sensory literacy; rehearsing presence; or practising being human without the pressure to optimise the result. So just as we accept that exercising is good for us, so too must we begin to realise that art is too. If not more powerfully for its mind-brain-body connection.

“You have a daily art practice that is as vital to you as exercise and meditation routines. Art, you now understand, isn’t only a hobby, it’s a conversation with yourself, a way to connect your mind, body and spirit and to support your health and wellness.” Your Brain on Art

And in a world that increasingly asks us to perform, produce, and prove, the simple act of making something for no reason at all may well be one of the most quietly radical things we can do. Perhaps that’s what art has always been for?

As for me, I’m committing to creating 100 tiny landscapes because these are my favourite things to paint. Probably based on photos, or maybe just from my imagination, I’m trying not to constrain myself before I begin. I have no real goal apart from maybe to get better at painting trees. And that’s only going to happen with practise. Why not give something a go too? Let me know.

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