🌱 What We’re Inspired By: Jameel Arts & Health Lab

🎵 What We’re Listening To: Los Andes, by Hermanos Gutiérrez

📚 What We’re Reading: Dream Count is a 2025 novel by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Looking at Demographics

Speaking of 2026, one interesting article we’ve gained insight from is the visual data story Demographics of US Museum-Goers in 2026 by Diamond Alexander for the American Alliance of Museums (AAM). Who goes to museums, anyway? What demographic is historically underserved?

Biggest News: EU Declares Culture a Health Priority

On June 18, the European Parliament, European Commission, and Council of the European Union signed a joint declaration: “Europe for Culture - Culture for Europe” which made culture a strategic EU priority for the first time. It recognized culture’s health impact as one of twelve key principles. The declaration draws on a “Culture for Health” report from member-state experts. This was covered in depth in a piece published just two weeks ago (Sept 17, 2026) on The Conversation, syndicated by Phys.org. Finally, museotherapy is now moving from grassroots pilots into formal EU health policy territory.

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Other threads pulled from that same piece include:

Training/credentialing is formalizing: Since 2024, Claude-Bernard Lyon 1 University has offered a university diploma, Prescription Culturelles: Santé et Arts (Cultural Prescriptions: Arts and Health), taught in French and coordinated by Nathalie Bondil, a neurologist, and a clinical psychologist signaling the field’s move from experimental practice toward an academic/theoretical framework.

UK: A quantitative study across seven museums in central London and Kent, part of the “Museums on Prescription” initiative for older adults, found museums can meaningfully improve psychological wellbeing over time (Sage Pub DOI Link)

France: An Inserm study (the French national health/medical research institute) in Caen is measuring museum visit benefits across different population groups. This gives the field state-research-backed evidence base rather than just museum-led pilot data.

Continuing Updates

Aside from this, the Shanghai "Museum Healing Alliance" (launched July 22, 2026) we mentioned in our Q1 wrap up remains the most recent big institutional development for museotherapy in the last half of this year. It's since been expanding to include the Duolun Museum of Modern Art, libraries, botanical gardens, and universities.

Recent Conferences & Gatherings of Note

"The Healing Museum: Panel & Reception" at the Queens Museum

This September, the Jameel Arts & Health Lab hosted the 2026 UNGA Healing Arts Week, their annual city-wide NYC activation timed to the UN General Assembly. This specific event was a panel and evening reception that marked the announcement of a forthcoming policy brief, presented by a collaboration between Jameel Arts and the WHO. It makes the case for museums specifically as valuable public health and community wellbeing infrastructure worldwide.

As part of the annual Healing Arts New York activation produced by the Jameel Arts and Health Lab during the UN General Assembly, a round table discussion on the role of museums to promote individual and community health was held at the Queens Museum. Moderated by Christopher Bailey, the founder of the WHO Arts and Health program, the round table was attended by scholars, artists, health system leaders and museum representatives from around the world, including the Guggenheim, the Smithsonian and the Nation Museum of Catalonia among others. The round table discussed the history and trajectory of health related programs in museums and served as a launching point for the upcoming policy brief on the subject.

Jameel Arts & Health Lab’s mission is coordinating global scientific research on arts-and-health effectiveness to drive policy across all 193 UN member states. Be sure to check out their website, in particular the interactive map of activations.

Upcoming Conferences

The Scientific Conference of Museum Therapy

We cannot believe this one has missed our radar for so long, but it only underscores why we continue to do this research: there is so much research going on in the museotherapy world internationally. We have been needing one place for all of this information to gather (for researchers to build together) so the field of museotherapy can move forward.

This 8th iteration of the conference is titled “Museotherapy and Dementia: The Role of Museums in Shaping the Well-being of People with Dementia.” It seeks to answer the questions What role can museums play in the lives of people with dementia? How can art, engagement with heritage, and specially designed activities support their well-being?

The conference is organized by the National Museum in Kielce and serves as a forum for meeting and exchanging experiences among those who create and implement museum and cultural programs aimed at people with dementia. Participants will explore how museums can create dementia-friendly spaces, address the needs of those affected, and build relationships grounded in mindfulness, respect, and presence.

The deadline for submissions is October 18, 2026

Conference Dates: November 3-4, 2026

BAAT Annual Conference (British Association of Art Therapy)

"Sustaining Care: Art Therapy for Workforce, Communities and Individuals" happens Nov 7, 2026, London. BAAT also runs a dedicated Museum and Gallery Special Interest Group (MaG SIG), the most direct museotherapy link in the UK field body. IMI will be joining remotely for this one!

One of the confirmed parallel sessions is "Community-based art psychotherapy in museum settings" with Julia Cort, art therapist at the Horniman Museum. That's a concrete UK museotherapy case study on the program, alongside a keynote from Daisy Fancourt (the same researcher who keynoted Greece's Art on Prescription conference in March) on arts and health evidence, and findings from a randomized controlled trial from 2025 on group art therapy for healthcare workers presented by Megan Tjasink.

AATA 2026 (American Art Therapy Association)

AATA’s 57th annual conference, expected 1,000+ attendees, the largest art therapy gathering of the year. In-person Oct 14–17, 2026, Charlotte, NC. The Virtual portion will be Nov 14–15, 2026, hosted on AATA’s virtual platform.

Specifically, we’re looking forward to hearing from the Museums SIG and from Unnur Ottarsdottir’s paper “Joint Mirror Drawing and Crossdrawing in Art Therapy and Museums” directly connecting art therapy practice to museum settings. We’re also looking for to her adjacent session “Why the Arts Matter: The Gallery as a Community Hub.”

If you are in the museum, art therapy, or museotherapy world and you are hiring, feel free to drop a line. If you’re a graduate student or someone looking for a job in the field or want to get involved with IMI, please don’t hesitate to do the same.

Please start with telling us a little about yourself, your path to working with museums, what that experience has been like for you, and where you're hoping museotherapy will go.

I came to museums first as an artist. My foundation is contemporary art and time-based practice.

My artistic practice became more outwardly participatory, and I began to realize what the invitations carried: trauma, memory, identity. Years of teaching youth-focused art programming had not prepared me to hold what I was asking participants to enter. That was the full push to pursue clinical training, and in 2021 I finished my MA at Loyola Marymount University.

To be 100% honest, I don’t remember exactly when I first heard about museotherapy, but I began researching it intentionally in the spring of 2022, before I was fully licensed. At that time, doing clinical work in museums felt like a no-brainer to me. During that research I contacted several museotherapy pioneers, the first being Stephen Legari. His work at the Musée des beaux-arts de Montréal has been an important reference point for museum-based art therapy at institutional scale. He was generous with his time and helped me think more carefully about how I was entering the field.

The first place I tested an early version of the model I was developing was not a museum. In December 2022, I led a walking tour, reflection, and discussion workshop around Joseph Young’s Topographical Map in downtown Los Angeles, as part of Illuminate LA, an LA County Department of Arts and Culture initiative designed by Anuradha Vikram. The workshop was free and open to the public. What happened in that workshop shaped the pilot I ran six weeks later at LACMA, at the invitation of Chelo Montoya. At that time, because museums have such a long history of programs that look very similar on the surface, I wanted the difference to be structural: a clinician facilitating, community guidelines set at the start, and Westmont Counseling Center co-presenting.

I adapted the model for the Wignall Museum of Contemporary Art in 2023 and 2024 at the invitation of Rebecca Trawick, and in February 2026 Suzanne Hudson invited me to facilitate a museotherapy session as part of her Art, Therapy, and the Problem of Repair consortium at the Getty Research Institute.

Each iteration moved the model. The site, the artwork, the participants, and the ethical demands of each encounter changed what it could be. The distinction I now hold between a therapeutic experience and psychotherapy is something I arrived at across those iterations. I did not bring it with me.

As for where it will go, because museums already know how to build safeguards around what they value, I hope they build frameworks for programs that ask participants to do more than look: mindfulness in front of a specific artwork, inside an exhibition, or in the museum generally. Those invitations can open something in a participant.

And for me, I am at the first pass of my inquiry. Some configurations are clear: using a museum’s digital archive, screen-shared inside a virtual session, within a private clinical container. Others are blurrier: who else is in the room, what the institution knows, what happens afterward to what gets made. I am making a compass for those decisions rather than a rule for them, and I keep checking myself there because I want the practices to stay in relation without collapsing into one another.

You describe keeping contemporary art, museotherapy, and clinical art therapy in “careful relationship rather than collapsing them into one another.” What does that distinction look like in practice? Where do you draw the line, and what’s at risk if it blurs?

The terms matter because each one carries different responsibilities. Contemporary art can hold ambiguity, authorship, material, and participation. Clinical art therapy requires a treatment relationship, informed consent, confidentiality, documentation, and ongoing clinical responsibility. Museotherapy, as I practice it, uses artworks and museum spaces for deep looking, somatic awareness, and creative response, without becoming psychotherapy unless the conditions for therapy are actually present.

For me, the line is the treatment relationship. In a museotherapy session or participatory artwork, I am not diagnosing, creating a treatment plan, keeping a clinical record, billing insurance, or entering an ongoing therapist-client contract. The encounter may be therapeutic. It may move something. But care, pacing, grounding, or emotional response do not automatically make it therapy.

If that line blurs, there is a risk to my license and professional obligations, but the larger risk is to the participants. Calling something therapy can imply a depth of assessment, confidentiality, continuity, and follow-up that a public encounter may not actually provide. If the encounter activates grief, memory, anxiety, or a physical response someone did not expect, I do not want the frame to promise a clinical container that is not there.

Even inside clinical work, the setting changes the container; privacy is shaped by the room, the institution, who might walk in, and what the site can realistically hold. That has made me more careful about moving clinical work into museums or galleries. The setting has to support the clinical relationship, not simply host it.

In a therapy setting, the container is already built. In a public setting, someone has to build one. And once we know what an encounter can activate, we cannot design as if we do not know.

Themes like memory, displacement, adoption, and cultural rupture are deeply personal territory. How do you navigate making artwork, as you did in your recent exhibition The sky broke when I was allowed to fly., from that material in a way that feels honest without becoming extractive of your own or others’ experiences?

I try to begin from permission and from knowing that not everything has to become visible. The work comes from personal and familial material, but that does not mean all of it is available to the artwork, or to the viewer.

And for me, honesty is not the same as confession. My confessional spaces are my friendships and relationships, my private writing, and my own therapy. The artwork has another process. I write. I make. I listen back. I wait. I cross out, erase, translate. I let things linger and allow them to form and shift before they become public.

When I went to Monterrey to meet my extended biological family for the first time, I told everyone I was making artwork; my biological father had also helped explain that to my family before I arrived. I was clear it would not function like a traditional documentary. A voice, memory, or story might be present without being identifiable or directly readable.

For example, my first interview with one of my brothers, before the first trip to Monterrey, was long and open. When I listened back, my grandparents’ demolished house was what stayed with me, so that became the focus of the next interview. The rest of those conversations still shape the work even though they are not publicly legible. Material can remain present without being exposed.

aún sin título was a 5-hour facilitated gathering shaped by museotherapy and somatic practice. I co-facilitated it with traci kato-kiriyama. The works developed during the gathering were integrated into the exhibition, The sky broke when I was allowed to fly., through its run.

The participants made their own work in aún sin título, so I kept going back to them: what gets shown, how it is installed, how they are credited. Those were their pieces and every decision about them was still theirs. Consent was and is still ongoing. The difference between the work developed during aún sin título and the work I made in the exhibition is authorship. My family did not make artwork. They gave me time, stories, and access to a family I had never met. The material is theirs. The work is my experience of encountering it.

You talk about structuring encounters with “enough care, pacing, and consent” so the work doesn’t become extractive or performative. Can you walk through what that structuring actually entails? What does consent look like in a five-hour participatory piece?

The model I developed begins by slowing down. It asks people to notice what the body is registering before language arrives, then to think, wonder, and respond in whatever way the moment asks. For aún sin título, care and consent started before anyone entered the room, and did not stop there.

I was responsible for the initial conditions: the environment, the pacing, the invitation, and the frame. I could design for what the encounter might need, but I could not control what participants would bring, withhold, make, or change. It was a potluck. I asked people to bring something of themselves to share: something they liked, something tied to their sense of identity, something that tasted like their kitchen, or something from a restaurant they loved if they didn’t cook. Materials were plentiful and listed in advance so people could think about what they might want: 2D supplies, cyanotype paper, vellum, craft paper rolls, clay, two flatbed scanners, a printer, audio recording equipment, a ring light, and a pico projector. During the gathering, I made rest and de-stimulation materially available through low seating, an area rug, cushions and throws, a weighted blanket, an eye mask, and a place to withdraw. Rest needed to be as legible an option as making.

The application process was not a clinical screening, but it borrowed from informed-consent practices. The form named that the gathering would engage cultural loss, displacement, identity, and potentially activating material. It also asked about readiness, questions, access needs, existing support, and an emergency contact. A clinical intake asks those questions to determine whether someone is right for the treatment; I was asking what was already in place around them, because the gathering would end and was not ongoing care. I wanted people to arrive informed, and I wanted to know what the room might need.

Consent was not one checkbox. It was layered and ongoing. Participation, documentation, whether someone’s work could enter the exhibition, how they wanted to be credited, and acknowledgment that the gathering was not a replacement for therapy were separate decisions. People could ask questions before committing, opt out of documentation, and decide later whether their work entered the exhibition.

That consent continued after the five hours ended. I stayed in communication with participants about what they wanted shown, how they wanted it installed, and how they wanted to be credited. When work was installed, I sent photographs and invited notes.

Inside the room, everything was optional. People could participate, pause, rest, leave, not share, not enter a space, make something, not make something, or simply sit with what was happening. I said repeatedly that there were no supposed-to’s. Feeling something was welcome. Feeling nothing was welcome. Feeling everything was welcome.

I did not make my own work during the gathering. For aún sin título, I was tracking the room and staying available. When one participant wanted to offer an invitation to the group, we clarified the structure together and presented it as optional. It changed the sequence, because the structure had enough form to hold people and enough openness for a participant to shift what happened.

Consent also meant respecting refusal and rest. One participant had a strong response to a piece before the gathering began and later chose not to enter that installation space during an exercise. They still participated from outside it. Later, they fell asleep on the rug and cushions. I did not treat their rest as disengagement or failed participation.

It is important to me to avoid forced vulnerability. For aún sin título, I did not want people performing openness, trauma, cultural loss, or emotional availability for the exhibition. The structure had to make room for response without demanding disclosure. That is what care, pacing, and consent looked like in practice: not controlling the experience, but making sure people were not abandoned inside it.

aún sin título blurs the line between public program and artwork. Why was it important that this be a work within the exhibition rather than a program attached to it, and what changes when you make that distinction?

My exhibition in May 2026, The sky broke when I was allowed to fly. / Se rompió el cielo cuando me dejaron volar., was the first time my work as an artist, clinician, and museum-based facilitator operated as one body of work. aún sin título was not a public program attached to the exhibition. It was a work within it. Participants moved through deep looking, somatic awareness, and creative response, and what they brought into the room entered the installation and changed it.

I am still working against the word “workshop,” even though I sometimes use it because institutions understand it. My objection is not that workshops are lesser. It is that the word can carry expectations of instruction, production, critique, or a shared movement toward making something better. A form keeps carrying its expectations even when we say we are doing something else. aún sin título was not organized around any of those goals. There was no skill to master, no object to improve, and no requirement that participation produce anything. Rest, refusal, silence, incompletion, and not-making were legitimate forms of participation.

Public programs can be experimental, responsive, and consequential. aún sin título changed the exhibition’s form, authorship, and conditions. It did not interpret the work or bring people to it. It altered what the exhibition became.

That mattered because aún sin título belonged to the exhibition’s logic. The whole show was concerned with partial access, distributed authorship, memory through others, unstable evidence, and the refusal of resolution. The gathering created a way for other people to enter those conditions through their own experiences of cultural disconnection, rupture, displacement, or not-knowing. Their responses were not illustrations of the show. One participant re-ordered fragments of letters they had written coming out to their homophobic father, mounted them on the wall, and let them run down onto the floor into my veladoras.

Another folded paper cranes into a kraft archive box that sat on the borrowed bricks; over the run the box tipped, and a brick came to rest inside it, on the cranes. Their work became part of the exhibition itself.

What changes across the frames of artwork and program is not the value of the encounter but the expectations around it: who is present, what they consented to, what happens with what gets made, who is understood to be an author. Those expectations are set by the frame, not only by the activity.

The same routing happened during the run of the exhibition. I built an activation into the work La cerámica tiene memoria: people watching a World Cup match together during gallery hours, inside the frame of the piece, with the residue of that watching staying in it: miniDV and audio documentation, residue left in archive boxes, changed seating arrangements. It was not meant to be promoted. The original idea was that the gallery and I would invite people directly. But through a miscommunication the activation ended up being announced publicly instead. It became easier to receive as an event; its tie to the work was lost. That was an ordinary institutional response to something that looked like programming. Nobody decided to reframe it. The category was already there and the work slid into it.

The exhibition was co-facilitated with traci kato-kiriyama and built for adults disconnected from cultural heritage “in all of its varied forms.” How did that collaboration shape the design, and what did “disconnection from heritage” come to mean across such a varied group of participants?

traci kato-kiriyama understood the role, boundaries, and care architecture, but chose not to pre-experience the sequence or prompts. She wanted to enter the gathering the way participants would, without knowing what was coming. I trusted that choice because I already knew how she holds space, and because her relationship to community, performance, language, and material is different from mine. She also has longstanding relationships within Little Tokyo, where LA Artcore is located. That mattered.

The collaboration changed the room because the room needed more than one way of holding. I brought somatic attention, consent, and clinical attention to pacing, response, and what the room might need. traci brought another way of opening a space, through presence, voice, and movement.

She entered the sequence alongside participants rather than rehearsing it in advance, so her responses emerged in relation to what was actually happening. We complemented each other because we were not doing the same thing.

The gathering was for adults disconnected from cultural heritage in varied forms, not only for adoptees. I am an adopted person, and adoptees have a specific relationship to cultural disconnection, but the room held many forms of distance: adoption and international adoption, migration and diaspora, language loss or distance, family rupture, assimilation, mixed identity, not-knowing, chosen distance, and experiences shaped by queerness or gender where inheritance, family, body, and belonging may not line up cleanly.

People could recognize one another without having the same story. Commonality did not require equivalence. Someone could hear something in another person’s experience and think, not “that’s exactly me,” but “I know something about that kind of distance.”

So yes, “cultural heritage” expanded, but it also became unstable in a useful way. It stopped being only about nationality, ethnicity, language, or tradition. It became about what is inherited, withheld, refused, chosen, lost, embodied, remembered by others, or never fully available. That instability belonged to the work. It did not need to resolve. It needed to stay open enough to hold what entered the room.

Participants’ somatic looking, writing, and object-based work were ultimately installed into the exhibition, physically shifting it. What was it like to relinquish some authorial control over the show’s final form, and how did the exhibition change once their work entered it?

Relinquishing control was part of the point of aún sin título. I built the piece so that something could happen that I could not fully predict. I let go of control, but not responsibility.

One participant used my old MiniDV camera during the five hours. When I watched what they had made, it felt like more than documentation. It was an intimate record of the time we had shared, and I knew a fixed monitor was not where it belonged.

I tested the footage with a Pico projector and headphones, sent the artist photographs of what I was considering, received their approval, and installed it that way. Viewers could pick up the projector and move through the exhibition, projecting the footage onto the floor, ceiling, walls, other works, and other bodies. The record of the gathering could move through the space instead of sitting fixed like evidence.

Another participant’s work needed a different process. I proposed an installation, photographed it, and sent it to them. They annotated the photograph and sent it back: tape this back up here, hang or leave in the box, tape or hang, hang, hang.

Next to one element she had written keep as is. Next to another, a note that the paper had been trying to replicate a dry clay piece, which I had not understood and would have installed wrong. I followed their marks. The label credits the work to her, installed in collaboration with me, because that is what happened.

The exhibition was already built through the voices and memories of my family, and aún sin título extended that distributed authorship to the people who entered the room. Works that had not existed when the exhibition opened began appearing beside mine, changing the installation’s density, rhythm, and internal relationships.

The show became less like a fixed arrangement and more like something accumulating through encounter.

The exhibition also changed because the residue of the gathering stayed: the rug, floor cushions, throws, pillows, and the traces of people having been there. The space continued to hold the presence of those five hours.

People often want a finished piece. I am more interested in something being finished enough. Finished enough to hold. Finished enough to receive. Finished enough to change.

I do not know that the exhibition became less mine. I think it became more itself.

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An interview with Dr. Hana Joo, art therapist and designer whose doctoral research developed a model for museum-based social prescribing in Korea.

Corrections to this article were made on September 24, 2026 by Brooke Christensen: The name of the museum in the title was corrected to the full name of Suwon Museum of Art, and in the korean context, two phrases were removed.

Art in this article provided by Dr. Hana Joo

Follow Dr. Hana Joo’s work here

This interview is part of an ongoing series exploring how art therapy lives beyond the clinic, such as inside museums, public institutions, and shared cultural spaces. One of the goals of this series is to center international voices, particularly since many international museotherapy and museum-based art therapy programs are more established than they currently are in the United States.

For this conversation, I spoke with Hana Joo, an art therapist and designer based in Seoul. She teaches graduate art therapy at Hongik University and service design at Seoul Women’s University, and her doctoral research built an operational model for museum-based social prescribing, tested through two empirical studies and refined through a Delphi panel of art therapists, curators, service designers, and health and welfare administrators. That framework now runs as an ongoing collaboration between Hongik University, the city of Suwon, and the Suwon Museum of Art.

A brief note on language: Hana responded to these questions in Korean, and both Korean and English versions are published here so the interview is accessible to readers in both languages. Genertative AI via Anthropic’s Opus model was used for translation. Please consider supporting us, so in the future we can hire humans to provide translation for our international interviews.

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What follows is a conversation about designing care into public space. About cortisol tests that contradicted the questionnaires. About figures who started out small and expressionless and ended up dancing in the rain. And about what a trained art therapist adds to a room that a museum educator already knows how to hold. Please enjoy this written interview!

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Brooke Christensen: After majoring in art therapy, you pursued a Ph.D. in Design at Hongik University. This is not a typical path. What motivated you to frame this research through the lens of ‘design’?

Hana Joo: While studying design as an undergraduate at Hongik University, I learned to analyze and understand user experience, which naturally led me to question how we can truly understand and support people’s minds and behaviors within their social environment. This reflection guided my journey toward becoming an art therapist working with clients’ inner worlds, diving deep into human psychology and healing through expressive arts.

Working as both a designer and an art therapist sparked an integrative research question: “Can we build an inclusive, diversity-respecting, and safe therapeutic holding environment outside the closed space of a traditional therapy room?” To me, design and art therapy have never been separate or distinct domains.

As illustrated in Figure 1, the dynamics of art therapy—moving from rapport building (exploration) to problem definition, therapeutic intervention and media application (implementation), and insight and sublimation (meaning integration)—align 1:1 with the design process. Ultimately, if art therapy facilitates microscopic healing on an individual level, design serves as a vital language and framework that expands that therapeutic process into the public realm.

To put it another way, if an art therapist acts as a Therapeutic Container holding a client’s emotions within a session, design provides a Holistic Frame—encompassing space, media, movement pathways, roles, relationships, community engagement, and policy—enabling that healing experience to take place safely in public environments like museums and local communities.

Christensen: Was there a specific moment or experience with participants that convinced you this work could function as a public service rather than a one-off program?

Joo: The seed of this idea began in 2010 at the Queens Museum in New York, while co-planning and facilitating a museum art therapy program for children with developmental disabilities and their families alongside my supervisor, Michelle, and my colleague, Mitra. Watching children and parents step outside traditional clinical spaces into an open museum environment, feeling psychological safety and connecting through expressive media, revealed the latent potential of museums as healing spaces.

This conviction grew even stronger in 2015 during the Share & Empathy project at the National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art (MMCA) in Korea, designed for seniors with dementia, their families, and caregivers. What I witnessed on-site was that healing resided not merely in the artwork or media themselves, but in the relational healing born of genuine human connection.

“It is my first time visiting a museum, and it feels truly heartwarming to be welcomed like this and to express my story through art.” — Participating Senior

“I always lived in constant tension due to changes in my mother’s behavior. But seeing her smile brightly while looking at artwork and creating things together in the museum helped me lay down my emotional burden and find comfort.” — Family Member / Caregiver

In a museum environment where cultural dignity is preserved for everyone, participants were transformed from ‘patients’ into ‘active agents who enjoy and create art’. This made it clear that emotional connection and healing through art must take the form of a structured public service so that it can serve as a continuous safety net in participants’ daily lives rather than ending as a single-event program.

Christensen: Social prescribing has been discussed for a long time in the UK and Canada, but was introduced relatively recently in Korea. Beyond mere translation, what kind of conceptual ‘translation’ was necessary for this concept to be understood within the Korean institutional context?

Joo: To adapt NHS-based social prescribing from the UK to Korea, we needed to reinterpret the concept of a ‘clinical prescription’ into ‘community-based connection and everyday care intervention’.

As art therapists in the US and UK know well, the word ‘prescription’—rooted in a medical model—can inadvertently make the general public feel burdened by illness or treatment, invoking social stigma. In Korean society, while psychological barriers to visiting hospitals or counseling centers for mental health have lowered over time, they remain significant.

Therefore, rather than framing social prescribing as a ‘medical directive issued by a physician,’ we translated it into Community Art Therapy—an effort to foster emotional well-being using art therapy techniques and media in the welcoming, aesthetic environment of a museum.

By fostering collaboration between public health/welfare centers and public art museums, clients previously confined to clinical spaces were gently guided into cultural and artistic healing. Restoring therapeutic agency to both clients and the local community through this structural shift was the crucial key to convincing Korean institutions and the public.

Christensen: Prior research shows that more than half of existing social prescribing studies focused on older adults aged 65 and above. You intentionally focused on young adults; why did you feel this shift was urgent?

Joo: As an art therapist, my focus on young adults came from realizing that despite experiencing deep psychological isolation and emotional distress, this group exhibits the highest levels of ‘therapeutic resistance’ and ‘fear of peer stigma’.

While most health and welfare resources in an aging society target the elderly population, young adults suffering from isolation, depression, and suicide risk have been overlooked in a blind spot of care. Young adulthood involves the vital developmental task of building self-identity and social relationships, yet many lack opportunities to build Emotional Literacy—the ability to recognize and regulate their emotions amid high competition and isolation.

Furthermore, because young adults are key to sustaining a healthy society in the future, preventive education is essential to help them care for themselves before reaching a crisis point. I concluded that ‘preventive therapeutic intervention’ prior to clinical visits was urgent. Providing a sensory, non-threatening space like a museum where young adults can safely express their inner selves and regulate emotions through non-verbal, symbolic media is the most timely and effective art therapy approach to this crisis.

Christensen: You measured salivary cortisol alongside psychological scales and projective drawing tests. What evidence did physiological indicators provide that self-reported scales alone could not capture?

Joo: Combining physiological indicators (salivary cortisol), self-report psychological scales, and projective drawing tests (such as PPAT/DAPR) allowed me, as both a researcher and clinician, to achieve objective results through data triangulation. Physiological indicators helped overcome the inherent limitations and social desirability bias of self-report surveys.

In Korean culture, participants often tend to offer positive responses to evaluators or researchers. For instance, one participant reported a significant reduction in stress on the post-test Perceived Stress Scale (PSS). However, their salivary cortisol levels actually increased, and their projective drawings showed emotional contraction—such as diminished coping resources or omitted facial features. Without cross-validating projective and physiological data, we might have mistakenly categorized this intervention as ‘effective’. This multi-angled analysis allowed us to place the participant in a ‘group with minimal short-term intervention effect’ and adjust future intervention strategies accordingly.

Additionally, physiological metrics prevented us from unilaterally misinterpreting cortisol elevation as purely ‘increased stress’. Cross-referencing the data with time-matched baseline cortisol values for Korean adults revealed that cortisol elevation within a normal range actually signified positive life arousal rather than distress.

This physiological activation aligned with drawing test results, where facial expressions became richer and relational elements with the environment and others expanded. Physiological indicators thus provided solid evidence of how art therapy interventions impact a client’s mind-body system, showing that multi-faceted measurement is essential for accurate analysis.

Christensen: What was the most unexpected finding in your research? Were there any outcomes that differed from your initial expectations?

Joo: My doctoral research involved two empirical studies: a primary pilot study (30 university students, 3 hours at an art center) and a secondary operational study (62 adults, 5 sessions at 2 hours each in collaboration with a museum). Going into the research, I anticipated that most participants would show stress reduction after the program, but the empirical results told a different story.

The most striking discovery across both studies was that participants naturally divided into three distinct categories:

1. Everyday Prevention Group: Individuals with healthy coping skills who could immediately use the museum as a space for ongoing self-care.

2. Selective Intervention Group: Individuals with high baseline stress who showed remarkable therapeutic gains after intervention, including physiological relaxation and emotional relief.

3. Non-Responder / Non-Change Group: Individuals whose psychological and physiological changes were minimal through short-term museum interventions alone, indicating a need for custom, long-term engagement and self-understanding.

Segmenting participants using the design concept of user personas—rather than treating them as a monolithic group—enabled us to design tailored preventive counseling strategies. It reaffirmed the clinical truth that a single program cannot heal everyone, while offering clear evidence for identifying target audiences and mapping out subsequent Service Pathways—determining who can benefit from daily cultural engagement versus who requires referral to specialized health and welfare services.

Christensen: For art therapist readers, what actual changes did you observe in the participants’ drawings? Were there qualitative changes in images that numerical data could not capture?

Joo: Expressive vitality and symbolic transformation—which numbers cannot capture—are precisely what art therapists look for most. Subtle emotional dynamics uncaptured by quantitative scales are often vividly revealed on paper. In the physiologically and emotionally activated group, pre- and post-tests of the Draw-a-Person-in-the-Rain (DAPR) test showed remarkably distinct qualitative shifts:

• Pre-test Drawings: Participants used only a small portion of the paper, drawing small, expressionless figures with very limited or hesitant coping resources (such as tiny umbrellas or rainboots).

• Post-test Drawings: Figures proactively claimed the entire space, standing confidently in raincoats, smiling brightly, or dancing in the rain with open umbrellas. Furthermore, symbolic re-interpretations of rain emerged—such as lotus leaves, frogs, and water droplets—transforming rain from a stressful stimulus into a vibrant, living environment.

This spatial expansion and playful symbolism in drawings matched post-session behavioral observations, where participants laughed, conversed, and enjoyed community connection.

These qualitative changes served as milestones beyond simple test scores, illuminating participants’ inner desires and opening doors toward self-understanding and healthy relational awareness. Based on this analysis, we delivered personalized reports to participants and supported them in connecting with daily cultural environments and self-care groups.

Christensen: You defined museum art therapy as an intervention aimed at development and well-being, distinguishing it from symptom-alleviation-centered clinical therapy. How do you maintain this boundary in practice, especially when clinical needs arise during a session?

Joo: Having worked as an art therapist and supervisor in clinical psychiatric settings, as well as in cultural institutions like the MMCA and the Queens Museum in New York, I have come to realize that hospitals and museums are not disconnected worlds; they exist along a single continuum of healing.

When launching museum art therapy alongside researchers and students at Hongik University, a trainee once noted: “I thought museum art therapy would be easier than a hospital, but practicing it feels like a dynamic, profound field that requires a therapist equipped with comprehensive clinical and educational experience.” That observation was spot-on. Fostering development and well-being in a non-clinical space does not mean stripping away clinical depth; rather, it demands subtle boundaries anchored in deep clinical insight.

During an open-studio group session, a participant became overwhelmed with emotion while creating art and burst into tears. Silence fell over the room, and the flustered trainee looked to me for guidance. At that moment, a fellow participant warmly reached out with empathy:

“It’s okay. I cry for no reason sometimes, too.”

This illustrates the unique therapeutic strength of an open museum setting. Before a therapist steps in to control the situation with rigid clinical protocols, the sense of safety cultivated among the professional facilitator, the group, and the welcoming space naturally fosters shared empathy and community bonds.

While Korean participants can generally be cautious about exposing their vulnerabilities, the museum environment itself helps soften personal defenses. Instead of fixating on pathology or clinical interventions when unexpected situations arise, therapists act as orchestrators—shaping the boundaries of space, media, and group dynamics so that expressions are safely contained without regressing into severe distress. A therapist who respects clinical boundaries can safely hold a museum as a therapeutic space open to all.

Christensen: Museum educators are already excellent facilitators. What unique competency does a trained art therapist bring, and how do you explain this difference to museum professionals?

Joo: Today, ICOM defines museums as inclusive, diverse, and sustainable institutions. Consequently, traditional museum domains like exhibition, conservation, and education must collaborate across multidisciplinary fields to create meaningful opportunities for public participation.

Museum educators are outstanding professionals who deeply understand museum identity and the educational value of exhibitions, expertly guiding visitor engagement. What a trained art therapist adds to this environment is clinical sensitivity to read non-verbal emotional dynamics and the capability to construct a psychological safe zone.

While educators facilitate intellectual and sensory expansion through exhibition content, art therapists pick up on subtle psychological cues hidden behind shyness, silence, resistance, or emotional expression. When unconscious emotions or vulnerabilities surface through viewing or creating art, the art therapist’s expertise lies in safely reflecting these feelings while maintaining emotional stability.

When explaining this distinction to museum practitioners, I emphasize that these domains are not in conflict, but are partners along a single continuum dedicated to visitor well-being.

Art therapists are not here to replace museum education. When educators and art therapists collaborate, museums can expand beyond ‘spaces of knowledge and appreciation’ into ‘integrative healing spaces’ where emotional healing and personal growth occur hand in hand.

Christensen: Through a Delphi survey, 22 operational elements were finalized. Which element saw the greatest divergence of opinions among the expert panel, and how was that difference reconciled?

Joo: In establishing the 22 operational elements for museum-based social prescribing via the Delphi survey, the greatest divergence among experts (art therapists, museum curators, service designers, and health/welfare administrators) centered on two elements: Participant Co-design and Inter-agency MOUs.

First, regarding Participant Co-design: While service designers consider co-design essential to address user needs, clinical experts expressed concern that over-relying on participants could weaken therapeutic frameworks and diminish clinical effectiveness.

We resolved this by redefining co-design not as ‘handing over therapeutic decisions to clients,’ but as scaffolding—a process of pre-identifying participants’ physical/emotional accessibility, media preferences, and environmental needs to refine the intervention structure. This seamlessly merges user-centered service design values with a solid clinical foundation.

Second, regarding Administrative linkage with local health/welfare agencies (MOUs and collaborative systems): While all experts agreed 100% on the need for multidisciplinary collaboration, significant doubts were raised regarding feasibility due to administrative silos across education, clinical, and welfare sectors.

We addressed this by offering project-based, flexible governance guidelines rather than forcing rigid, institutional agreements immediately. Instead of being bogged down by macro-administrative hurdles, our operational framework takes a practical approach: building field-centered pilot projects to demonstrate success, which then serve as stepping stones to connect with local government welfare policies.

Christensen: You proposed operational models tailored for public and private museums respectively. How can this be realized in a small private museum with only two staff members and no health-related budget?

Joo: Even for a small private museum with just two staff members and no dedicated health or welfare budget, implementing museum art therapy and social prescribing is fully achievable by adopting a Resource-Linking Model utilizing the Local Community Ecosystem. Rather than straining internal resources, the strategy focuses on designing a mutually beneficial network with external partners. This strategy rests on three main pillars:

1. Securing Professional Talent via University Internships: Establishing MOUs with local graduate programs in art therapy. Prospective art therapists needing clinical and community practicum hours serve as program facilitators, giving the museum access to skilled staff while offering universities a high-quality field training site.

2. Funding via Corporate ESG and CSR/CRV Initiatives: Corporations frequently allocate budgets toward ESG goals focused on community emotional welfare and cultural inclusion. Small private museums can offer space and exhibition resources while securing corporate sponsorship to fund health and healing programs.

3. Participant Recruitment via Local Health & Welfare Center Outreach: For museums that struggle with direct participant recruitment, programs can integrate with existing outreach networks at local mental health welfare centers, dementia care centers, and social welfare agencies. These institutions assist with transportation and escorting while sharing the museum space as a healing sanctuary.

The strengths of small private museums lie in swift decision-making and an intimate, welcoming atmosphere. Even without a massive budget, applying the framework of a ‘community healing hub’ transforms small museums into warm, approachable everyday healing bases for the public.

Christensen: To readers in the US or Europe engaging with your framework, what elements of the Korean context should not be directly replicated?

Joo: The biggest differences between Western contexts (particularly North America or the UK) and Korea lie in Governance & Funding and the Entry Point for Mental Health Services. Rather than copying administrative procedures or policy methods directly, the Korean model should be reinterpreted to fit each country’s unique cultural and institutional soil.

First is the Governance Structure combining Top-down and Bottom-up approaches. In the US and Europe, field-driven, bottom-up initiatives thrive on donation cultures, private foundation grants, or institutionalized health systems like the NHS. In Korea, long-term sustainability requires public initiatives (Top-down also) tied closely to municipal public design, cultural welfare policies, and local government budgets. Transplanting Korea’s local-government-linked administrative model into Western systems that rely on private philanthropy or primary care networks may not fit reality.

Second is the Direction of Entry into mental health care. Where UK social prescribing originates in primary medical care (GPs) and expands outward to community cultural resources (’medicine-first connection’), the Korean model addresses local cultural and administrative factors—such as social stigma around mental health treatment and fee-for-service medical insurance structures. It is designed as a ‘starter in daily life,’ lowering emotional barriers through non-clinical museum spaces before hospital visits, and connecting individuals to clinical care or welfare as needed.

Ultimately, what Western readers should take from the Korean framework is the Integrative Design Principle that merges the emotional safety nets of art therapy with public space service processes. Flexibility is key to reconfiguring the framework around each nation’s health and cultural systems.

Christensen: Now that you have completed your dissertation, what projects are you currently preparing?

Joo: Following my doctoral dissertation, my work continues along two primary axes: Academic Sharing & Education and Real-world Implementation.

First, I am teaching graduate courses in art therapy at my alma mater, Hongik University, as well as service design courses at Seoul Women’s University. I am dedicated to nurturing future researchers and practitioners who will create social value at the intersection of design and art therapy. Additionally, I am writing a book to synthesize the trials, insights, and data I gathered as an art therapist and designer in Korea into an integrative perspective.

At the same time, I am actively executing practical governance so that research extends beyond academic papers into live community settings. Based on my doctoral research, a collaborative project among Hongik University (Art Therapy Major & Public Design Research Center), Suwon City, and the Suwon Museum of Art entered its second year following an agreement in April 2025, operating stably while advancing toward a refined social prescribing model.

In particular, this autumn, at the request of Suwon City’s Care Policy Division, the project expands to target ‘single-person households’—including young and middle-aged adults vulnerable to social isolation—to prevent depression and promote emotional well-being through museum art therapy. Driven once again by a multidisciplinary co-design team, we are bringing an academically validated framework into real local welfare administration, continuously shaping it into a sustainable public service.

Christensen: What advice would you give to students who want to work in this field but cannot find precedents in their home countries?

Joo: When I first started down this path, I did not begin with a grand sense of mission or lofty plans. I simply wanted to address realistic questions: “Could a wonderful space like a museum bring comfort to more people?” and “How can we help people step outside their homes, hospitals, welfare centers, and therapy rooms to meet others and experience a space of communication?” In seeking answers and sharing thoughts with people along the way, different fields naturally intersected, giving birth to new research.

If you feel lost due to a lack of precedents in your country, I encourage you to look for people around you who share similar questions—whether they are museum educators, local social workers, or policy makers. Even without a perfect system in place, start with small conversations where you can learn to understand each other’s language.

Then, try initiating a very small-scale project. It does not require a huge budget or formal institutional agreements. Try an art therapy approach with a few people in a small space, and observe how their expressions change. Those small experiences will accumulate into practical clues pointing toward your next step.

Precedents are not given from the start; they are forged step by step as we empathize with real-world needs and take modest action. You might feel anxious when the path ahead isn’t immediately visible. But if you stay true to your questions and take one step at a time, you will eventually find yourself walking alongside colleagues and companions headed in the same direction.

I will be cheering you on from Korea. Thank you.

Thank you for reading. I am grateful to Hana Joo for the time, care, and thought she gave to these responses, and for making them available to readers in both Korean and English.

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미술관을 처방하다

미술치료사이자 디자이너인 주하나 선생님과의 서면 인터뷰. 박사 연구를 통해 한국의 뮤지엄 기반 사회적 처방 모델을 설계했습니다.

이 인터뷰는 미술치료가 치료실 밖, 즉 미술관과 공공기관, 그리고 함께 나누는 문화 공간 안에서 어떻게 살아 있는지를 살펴보는 연재 시리즈의 일부입니다. 이 시리즈의 목표 중 하나는 국제적인 목소리를 소개하는 것입니다. 뮤지엄 기반 미술치료와 뮤지오테라피 프로그램은 현재 미국보다 해외에서 더 폭넓게 자리 잡은 경우가 많기 때문입니다.

이번 대화는 서울에서 활동하는 미술치료사이자 디자이너인 주하나 선생님과 나누었습니다. 홍익대학교 교육대학원에서 미술치료를, 서울여자대학교에서 서비스디자인을 가르치고 있으며, 박사 연구를 통해 뮤지엄 기반 사회적 처방의 운영 모델을 설계했습니다. 이 프레임워크는 현재 홍익대학교와 수원시, 수원시립미술관의 협력 프로젝트로 운영되고 있습니다.

공공 공간 안에 돌봄을 설계하는 일에 관한 대화입니다. 즐겁게 읽어 주시기 바랍니다.

브룩 크리스텐슨: 미술치료를 전공하신 후 홍익대학교에서 디자인 박사과정을 밟으셨습니다. 흔한 경로는 아닌데요, 이 연구를 ‘디자인’이라는 틀로 풀어가야겠다고 생각하신 계기가 무엇이었는지 궁금합니다.

주하나: 사실 홍익대학교에서 학부과정으로 디자인을 전공하며 사용하는 사람들의 이해와 분석을 배우면서, 어떻게 하면 진정 사회 환경 속 사람들의 마음과 행동을 이해하고 도울 수 있을지 고민했습니다. 그러다 보니 저의 여정은 미술치료사로서 내담자의 내면을 다루는 과정으로 연결되었습니다. 그렇게 인간의 심리와 표현예술을 통한 치유 과정을 깊이 탐구했습니다. 디자이너에서 미술치료사의 역할까지 수행하다 보니, ’치료실이라는 닫힌 공간 밖에서도 포용적이고, 다양성 존중을 실천하는 안전한 치유적 환경(Holding Environment)을 구축할 수 있을지’에 대한 통합적 연구로 이어지게 되었습니다. 저에게 있어서 디자인과 미술치료는 결코 분리된 각기 다른 영역이 아닌 것입니다.

[Figure 1]에서 보듯, 라포 형성(탐색) - 문제 정의 - 치료적 개입 및 매체 적용(실행) - 통찰과 승화(의미 통합)로 이어지는 미술치료의 다이내믹은 디자인 프로세스와 정확히 1:1로 대응합니다. 결국 미술치료가 한 개인의 미시적 치유를 다룬다면, 디자인은 그 치유의 장을 공공의 영역으로 확장해 주는 훌륭한 언어이자 틀이 되어줍니다.

다시 말해, 치료 장면 속에서 미술치료사가 내담자의 감정을 담아내는 치료적 용기(Therapeutic Container)의 역할을 한다면, 디자인은 그러한 치유적 경험이 박물관이나 지역사회라는 공공 공간 속에서 안전하게 일어날 수 있도록 공간, 매체, 동선, 역할, 관계뿐 만 아니라, 지역사회 참여, 정책 등등 총체적인 프레임(Holistic Frame)을 제공하여 수행을 돕는 것입니다.

크리스텐슨: 이 작업이 일회성 프로그램이 아니라 공공서비스로 작동할 수 있겠다고 확신하게 된 특정한 순간이나 참여자와의 경험이 있으셨나요?

주하나: 2010년 뉴욕 퀸즈뮤지엄(Queens Museum)에서 수퍼바이저 미셸(Michelle), 동료 미트라(Mitra)와 함께 발달장애 아동 및 가족을 위한 뮤지엄 미술치료 프로그램을 함께 기획하고 운영할 때 생각이 발화하기 시작했습니다. 미술관이라는 열린 공간에서 예술 매체를 매개로 치료 환경에서 벗어난 아이들과 부모가 심리적 안정감을 느끼고 소통하는 모습을 보며 뮤지엄에 잠재된 치유적 환경의 가능성을 확인할 수 있었습니다.

이어서 그 경험은 2015년 한국 국립현대미술관(MMCA)에서 치매 어르신과 가족, 돌봄자를 위해 기획한 <공유공감> 프로젝트에서 더욱 확고해졌습니다. 현장에서 목격한 것은 작품과 예술 매체만이 치유저인 것이 아니라 사람과 사람이 만나는 관계적 힐링 그 차체였습니다.

“미술관이 생전 처음인데, 나 같은 사람도 이렇게 환영을 받고, 예술을 통해 내 이야기를 표현할 수 있어서 참 따뜻합니다.” (참여 어르신)

“어머니의 행동 변화로 늘 긴장 속에서 살았는데, 미술관에서 작품을 보고 함께 무언가를 만들며 환하게 웃으시는 모습을 보니 저 역시 마음의 짐을 내려놓고 위로를 받았습니다.” (가족/돌봄자)

특정 대상만을 위한 것이 아닌, 누구나 함께할 수 있는 문화적 존엄성이 보장되는 뮤지엄이라는 환경에서 참여자들은 환자가 아닌 ‘예술을 향유하고 만들어가는 주체’가 되었습니다. 이처럼 예술을 통한 정서적 연결과 치유의 경험이 단발성 이벤트로 끝나지 않고, 참여자들의 일상적 삶에 지속적 안전망으로 작용하려면 체계적인 공공 서비스의 형태를 갖추어야 한다고 확신하게 되었습니다.

크리스텐슨: 사회적 처방은 영국과 캐나다에서는 오래 논의되어 왔지만 한국에는 비교적 최근에 도입되었습니다. 언어의 번역을 넘어, 이 개념이 한국의 제도 안에서 이해되기 위해 개념적으로 어떤 ‘번역’이 필요했다고 보시나요?

주하나: 영국의 NHS 기반 사회적 처방을 한국에 적용하기 위해서는 ‘임상적 처방’ 개념을 ‘지역사회 기반의 연결 및 일상적 돌봄 개입’으로 재해석하는 작업이 필요했습니다.

미국과 영국의 미술치료사들도 잘 알다시피, 의료 모델 중심의 ‘처방’이라는 단어는 자칫 대중에게 질환이나 치료에 대한 부담감, 즉 사회적 낙인을 경험할 수 있습니다. 특히 한국 사회에서는 정신건강 문제로 병원이나 상담소를 찾는 것에 대해 심리적 문턱과 거부감이 과거에 비해 낮아졌을지는 몰라도, 여전히 높습니다.

따라서 우리는 사회적 처방을 ‘의사가 내리는 의료적 지시’로 다루기보다, 미술관이라는 일상적이고 아름다운 공간에서 미술치료적 기법과 매체를 활용한 정서적 안녕을 도모하는 ‘지역사회 중심의 미술치료(Community Art Therapy)’의 프레임으로 번역했습니다.

보건소·복지관과 공공 미술관이 협력하여 특정 공간에만 머물렀던 내담자가 자연스럽게 문화예술적 치유 과정으로 들어오도록 유도한 것입니다. 치료적 주체성을 내담자와 지역사회에 돌려주는 이 구조적 전환이 한국 기관들과 대중을 설득하는 핵심 열쇠였습니다.

크리스텐슨: 선행연구 분석 결과, 기존 사회적 처방 연구의 절반 이상이 65세 이상 고령층에 집중되어 있었습니다. 선생님께서는 의도적으로 청년층에 주목하셨는데, 이 전환이 왜 시급하다고 느끼셨는지 말씀해 주시겠어요?

주하나: 미술치료사로서 제가 청년층에게 집중한 이유는, 청년기가 겪는 심리적 고립과 정서적 혼란의 깊이에 비해 이들이 가진 ‘치료적 저항’과 ‘또래의 낙인에 대한 공포’가 가장 높은 집단이기 때문입니다.

고령화 사회에서 대부분의 보건·복지 자원이 고령층에 집중되는 동안, 정서적 고립과 우울, 자살 위험에 노출된 청년들은 치료의 사각지대에 방치되어 있었습니다. 청년기는 자아 정체성을 확립하고 사회적 관계를 형성해야 하는 중요한 발달적 과업을 안고 있지만, 경쟁과 고립 속에서 자신의 감정을 인식하고 조절하는 정서적 리터러시(Emotional Literacy)를 훈련받을 기회가 부족했습니다.

또한 청년들은 미래에 건강한 사회를 유지할 주체가 되는 그룹이기 때문에 제때에 도움요청을 할 수 있도록 미연에 자신을 돌보고 관리할 수 있는 사전 교육이 필요하기 때문입니다. 그래서 이들에게 중요한 것은 병원 방문 이전의 ‘예방적 치유 개입’으로 판단했습니다. 미술관이라는 감각적이고 비위협적인 공간에서 비언어적·상징적 매체로 자신의 내면을 안전하게 표현하고 정서를 조절할 수 있는 장을 제공하는 것—이것이 청년층의 정신건강 위기를 다루는 가장 시급하고 효과적인 미술치료적 접근이 됩니다.

크리스텐슨: 심리척도 및 투사적 그림검사와 함께 타액 코르티솔 검사를 병행하셨습니다. 생리적 지표가 척도만으로는 말할 수 없었던 어떤 근거를 제공해 주었나요?

주하나: 미술치료 평가에서 생리적 지표(타액 코르티솔), 심리 척도(자기보고식), 그리고 투사적 그림검사(PPAT/DAPR) 등)를 함께 활용한 것은 연구자이자 임상가로서 ’데이터 삼각측정’으로 객관적 결과를 얻고자 함이었습니다. 생리적 지표는 자기보고식 척도가 가진 한계와 사회적 타당성 편향을 객관적으로 보완해 주었습니다.

한국 문화권에서는 평가자나 연구자에게 긍정적인 결과를 보여주려는 경향이 종종 나타납니다. 실제로 한 참여자는 사후 지각된 스트레스 척도(PSS)에서 스트레스가 크게 감소했다고 응답했습니다. 그러나 타액 코르티솔 수치는 오히려 상승했고, 투사적 그림검사에서는 대처 자원이 축소되거나 인물의 이목구비가 생략되는 등 정서적 위축이 관찰되었습니다. 투사적, 생리적 데이터의 교차 검증이 없었다면 이 참여자의 결과를 ‘효과가 있는’으로 오인했을 것입니다. 결국 다각적 분석을 통해 이 참여자를 ’단기 개입으로는 효과가 미비한 그룹’에 두고 향후 개입의 방향을 고려할 수 있었습니다.

더불어, 생리적 지표는 코르티솔 상승을 단면적으로 ‘스트레스 증가’로만 해석하는 오류를 막아주었습니다. 한국 성인의 동시간대 코르티솔 기준치 데이터와 교차 비교한 결과, 적정 범위 내에서의 코르티솔 상승은 단순한 스트레스가 아닌 ‘긍정적인 생활 활력(Arousal)’을 의미하는 것으로 파악되었습니다.

이 생리적 활성화는 그림검사에서 인물의 표현력이 풍부해지고 주변 환경 및 타인과의 관계적 요소가 확장된 점과 정확히 일치했습니다. 즉, 생리적 지표는 미술치료적 개입이 내담자의 신체-정서 시스템에 실제 어떤 역동을 일으켰는지 객관적으로 입증하는 단단한 근거가 되어 연구결과를 다각도로 측정하는 것이 결과를 정확하게 분석할 수 있는 토대가 됨을 알 수 있었습니다.

크리스텐슨: 연구 결과 중 가장 예상 밖이었던 부분은 무엇이었나요? 기대와 다르게 나타난 결과도 함께 들려주시면 좋겠습니다.

주하나: 박사학위 논문에서는 1차 시범연구(대학생 30명, 아트센터 3시간)와 2차 운영연구(일반 성인 62명, 뮤지엄 협력 5회기/회기당 2시간)라는 두 번의 실증 연구를 수행했습니다. 연구 전에는 프로그램 참여 후 스트레스 감소 효과가 참여자 대부분 있을 것으로 기대했으나, 결과는 예상과 달랐습니다.

가장 놀라웠던 발견은, 두 연구 모두에서 참여자들이 뚜렷한 3가지 유형으로 분류되었다는 점입니다.

1. 일상적 예방 그룹 : 이미 일상적 대처 능력이 양호하며, 뮤지엄을 지속적인 자기 돌봄 공간으로 활용 가능

2. 선별적 중재 그룹 : 높은 스트레스 수준을 보였으나, 개입 후 생리적 이완과 정서적 완화 등 현저한 치료적 효과

3. 무반응/비변화 그룹 : 단기 뮤지엄 개입만으로는 심리·생리적 변화가 미미하나, 자기이해 및 맞춤형으로 지속적 참여 권고

참여자를 단일 집단으로 보지 않고, 디자인 용어로 쓰이는 ‘사용자 페르소나’로 세분화하여 분석하고 이에 상담치료적 개입으로 예방 전략을 설계할 수 있는 소중한 발견이었습니다. 단 하나의 프로그램이 모두를 치유할 수 없다는 임상적 진실을 재확인하였으며, 그와 동시에 누구에게 일상적 문화예술을 권하고, 누구에게 보건·복지 서비스 및 전문적 돌봄을 연계할 것인가에 대한 대상자 발굴과 후속 서비스 경로(Service Pathway)를 설계하는 결정적 근거가 되었습니다.

크리스텐슨: 미술치료사 독자들을 위해 여쭙습니다. 참여자들의 그림에서 실제로 어떤 변화를 보셨나요? 수치로는 포착되지 않는 이미지의 질적 변화가 있었는지 궁금합니다.

주하나: 수치가 담아내지 못하는 ‘표현의 활력과 상징의 변화’야 말로 미술치료사들이 가장 유심히 살피는 부분일 것입니다. 임상 현장에서도 수치화된 척도에서는 포착되지 않는 미묘한 정서적 역동이 그림을 통해 선명하게 드러나곤 합니다. 특히 생리적·정서적으로 활성화된 그룹의 사전-사후 ‘빗속의 사람(DAPR)’ 그림에서 매우 현저한 질적 변화가 관찰되었습니다.

사전 그림 (Pre-test): 일부 종이 면적만을 활용하여 작고, 무표정 인물을 그리거나, 우산이나 장화 같은 대처 자원이 지극히 제한적이고 조심스러운 형태로 표현

사후 그림 (Post-test): 전체 종이 공간을 주도적 활용하며, 활짝 웃거나 우산을 들고 빗속에서 춤을 추듯 표현하는 등 우비를 입은 인물이 당당하게 서 있는 모습으로 나타남. 나아가 빗물 속의 연잎, 개구리, 물방울 등 비가 스트레스 자극이 아닌, 생명력 있는 환경으로 재해석한 상징 등장

그림에서의 이러한 공간적 확장과 유희적 상징은 참여 이후 서로 웃으며 대화를 나누고 공동체적 유대감을 즐기는 행동 관찰을 통해 정동이 일치하는 것을 알 수 있었습니다.

이러한 참여자의 질적 변화는 단순한 검사 결과를 넘어 내면에서 원하는 바가 무엇인지 보여주는 이정표가 되었고, 자신을 이해하고 주변의 관계에 관심을 갖는 계기가 되었다고 보고했습니다. 이 분석을 바탕으로 참여자 개개인에게 맞춤형 리포트를 전달하고, 일상에서 자기 돌봄을 위한 문화예술 환경과 참여 그룹에 직접 참여해볼 수 있도록 지원하였습니다.

크리스텐슨: 선생님은 뮤지엄 미술치료를 증상 완화 중심의 임상적 치료와 구별하여, 발달과 웰빙을 지향하는 개입으로 정의하셨습니다. 실제 현장에서 이 경계를 어떻게 지키시나요? 특히 세션 중에 임상적 개입이 필요한 상황이 드러날 때는 어떻게 대응하시는지요.

주하나: 정신건강의학과 임상 현장에서 미술치료사이자 수퍼바이저로 재직했고, 국립미술관과 뉴욕 퀸즈뮤지엄 등 문화기관에서도 일했습니다. 이 두 영역을 모두 경험하며 얻은 결론은, 병원과 뮤지엄이 인간의 삶에서 분절된 공간이 아니라 치유의 연속선상에 있는 환경이라는 점입니다.

홍익대학교에서 연구원 및 학생들과 뮤지엄 미술치료를 런칭할 때 한 수련생이 “뮤지엄 미술치료는 병원보다 쉬울 줄 알았는데, 막상 해보니 모든 임상과 교육 경험을 갖춘 치료사가 서야 하는 가변적이고 깊은 현장 같다”고 말한 적이 있습니다. 정확한 지적입니다. 비임상적 공간인 뮤지엄에서 발달과 웰빙을 다룬다는 것은, 임상적 깊이를 배제하는 것이 아니라 오히려 깊은 임상적 통찰을 바탕으로 현장의 유연한 경계를 설정하고 다뤄야 하는 일입니다.

실제로 오픈스튜디오 방식의 그룹 세션 중, 한 참여자가 미술 표현을 하다가 감정이 북받쳐 흘러넘치며 눈물을 터뜨린 적이 있습니다. 순간 공간에 정적이 흘렀고, 수련생은 당황하여 저를 바라보았습니다. 그때 낯선 주변 참여자가 공감하며 따뜻하게 말을 건넸습니다.

“괜찮아요. 저도 가끔은 이유 없이 눈물이 나요.”

이 순간이 바로 뮤지엄이라는 오픈된 환경이 가진 치료적 힘입니다. 치료사가 정형화된 임상적 개입으로 상황을 통제하기 전에, 뮤지엄이라는 비위협적이고 온화한 공간에서 전문적인 매개자와 참여 그룹 간 자연스럽게 형성된 안정감으로 공감을 공유하고, 이는 공동체 유대로 이끄는 것입니다.

한국 참여자들 특성이 대체로 자신을 드러내기 조심스러워하지만(모든 사람이 그렇지는 않음), 뮤지엄이라는 환경 자체가 개인이 가진 방어를 완화하는 역할을 합니다. 치료사는 개인이 가진 어려움, 증상과 치료적 개입에 머무는 것이 아니라, 돌발적인 임상적 상황이 발생했을 때 이를 안전하게 포용하되 세션이 심각한 퇴행으로 흘러가지 않도록 공간과 매체, 그리고 집단 역동의 경계를 정교하게 디자인하는 연출가가 되어야 합니다. 임상적 경계를 아는 치료사가 뮤지엄이라는 모두에게 열린 환경도 안전한 치유의 장으로 holding할 수 있습니다.

크리스텐슨: 뮤지엄 에듀케이터는 이미 뛰어난 퍼실리테이터입니다. 훈련받은 미술치료사가 더할 수 있는 고유한 역량은 무엇이며, 그 차이를 뮤지엄 실무자들에게 어떻게 설명하시나요?

주하나: 오늘날 ICOM은 뮤지엄의 정의를 포용, 다양성, 지속가능한 기관으로 정의합니다. 이에 따라 기존의 전시, 보존, 교육과 같은 학예 영역에서 새로운 정의를 실천하기 위한 전략으로 다학제적 영역과 협력하고 지역사회의 시민들이 참여할 수 있는 기회를 마련해 나가야 할 입장에 놓여 있습니다.

뮤지엄 에듀케이터는 박물관의 정체성과 전시의 교육적 가치를 깊이 이해하며, 관람객과의 소통을 이끄는 훌륭한 전문가들입니다. 훈련받은 미술치료사가 이 현장에 더할 수 있는 고유함은 ’비언어적 정서 역동을 읽어내는 임상적 감수성과 심리적 안전지대를 구축하는 역량’입니다.

에듀케이터가 전시 콘텐츠를 매개로 관람객의 지적·감각적 확장을 돕는 퍼실리테이션으로 주역할을 한다면, 미술치료사는 참여자의 수줍음, 침묵, 미세한 저항이나 정서적 표출 뒤에 숨겨진 미묘한 심리적 신호를 포착합니다. 작품을 감상하거나 창작하는 과정에서 유발될 수 있는 무의식적 감정이나 취약성이 드러났을 때, 이를 안전하게 반영하면서 정서적 안정감을 유지하는 것이 미술치료사의 전문성입니다.

뮤지엄 실무자들에게 이 차이를 설명할 때, 저는 두 영역이 대립하는 것이 아니라 ’관람객의 안녕을 위한 하나의 연속선(Continuum) 상에 있는 파트너십’임을 강조합니다.

미술치료사는 교육의 영역을 대체하러 온 것이 아닙니다. 에듀케이터와 미술치료사가 협력할 때, 뮤지엄은 그저 ‘지식 이해와 감상의 공간’을 넘어 정서적 치유와 인격적 성장이 일어나는 ‘통합적 치유 유대 공간’으로 그 외연을 확장할 수 있습니다.

크리스텐슨: 델파이 조사를 통해 22개의 운영 요소가 최종 도출되었습니다. 전문가 패널 사이에서 가장 이견이 컸던 요소는 무엇이었고, 그 의견 차이는 어떻게 조율되었나요?

주하나: 델파이 조사를 통해 뮤지엄 기반 사회적 처방에 필요한 22가지 운영 요소를 도출하는 과정에서, 전문가 그룹(미술치료사, 뮤지엄 학예사, 서비스 디자이너, 보건·복지 행정가)이 가장 이견이 컸던 지점은 ’참여자 공동 설계(Co-design)’와 ’이종 부처 간 협력 양해각서(MOU) 체결’이라는 두 가지 요소였습니다.

첫째, 참여자 공동 설계(Co-design)에 대한 이견입니다. 서비스 디자인에서는 사용자의 요구를 반영한 co-design이 필수적이지만, 임상 전문가들은 전문적 치료 구조나 개입 프레임워크가 약화되어 치료적 효과성이 떨어질 수 있다는 우려를 제기합니다.

이러한 담론은 공동 설계를 ‘치료적 개입의 모든 것을 내담자에게 맡기는 것’이 아니라, ‘참여자의 신체적·정서적 접근성, 선호하는 매체 및 환경적 요구를 사전 파악하여 개입의 구조를 세심하게 다듬는 프로세스(Scaffolding)’로 재정의함으로써 공동의 이해를 도모할 수 있었습니다. 임상적 프레임워크의 단단함 위에 서비스 디자인의 사용자 중심 가치를 유연하게 결합할 필요가 있는 것입니다.

둘째, 지역사회 보건·복지 기관과의 행정적 연계(MOU 및 협력 체계)입니다. 전문가들 모두 다학제적 협력의 필요성에는 100% 동의했으나, 현실적으로 교육, 임상, 보건의 행정 장벽(Silo) 때문에 공공 현장에서 체계적인 MOU 체결과 협력이 가능하겠는가’라는 실행 가능성에 큰 의문이 제기되었습니다.

이 문제는 단번에 거대한 제도적 협약을 맺으려 하기보다, ‘프로젝트 기반의 유연한 협력 거버넌스’를 단계적 가이드라인으로 제시하여 해법을 찾아가는 중입니다. 거시적 행정 절차에 매이기보다 현장 중심의 파일럿 사업을 통해 성공 사례를 만들고, 이를 바탕으로 지자체 복지 정책과 연계해 나가는 실용적 접근법으로 운영체계를 반영하고 있습니다.

크리스텐슨: 국공립 뮤지엄과 사립 뮤지엄 각각에 맞는 운영 모델을 제안하셨습니다. 직원이 두 명이고 건강 관련 사업 예산이 없는 소규모 사립 뮤지엄에서는 이것이 어떤 모습으로 구현될 수 있을까요?

주하나: 상주 직원이 2명뿐이고 건강·복지 관련 자체 예산이 없는 소규모 사립 뮤지엄이라도, ’지역사회 에코시스템(Ecosystem)을 활용한 자원 연계 모델’을 적용하면 충분히 뮤지엄 미술치료 및 사회적 처방을 구현할 수 있습니다. 자체 자원을 짜내는 방식이 아닌, 외부 기관과의 상생적 네트워크를 디자인하는 것입니다. 소형 뮤지엄을 위한 실행 전략은 크게 세 가지 축으로 작동합니다.

1. 대학 인턴십 및 실습 파이프라인의 전문 인력 수급: 지역 대학의 미술치료 대학원 및 관련 학과와의 업무협약 체결 방안. 임상 및 지역사회 실습 수련이 필요한 예비 미술치료사들을 뮤지엄 프로그램의 운영 인력으로 연계하면서, 뮤지엄은 전문성을 갖춘 인력을 확보하고 대학은 훌륭한 현장 수련 기관을 확보

2. 기업의 ESG 및 CSR/CRV 펀딩 활용으로 예산 확보: 오늘날 기업들이 지역사회 정서 복지나 문화 소외계층 지원 등 ESG 경영 성과를 위해 다양한 사회공헌 예산 집행. 사립 뮤지엄은 공간과 전시 자원을 제공하며, 기업의 후원을 유치하여 프로젝트성 건강·치유 프로그램 기획

3. 지역 복지관 및 보건소의 아웃리치 연계의 대상자 모집: 자체 관람객 모집이 어려운 경우, 이미 대상자 네트워크를 보유한 지역 정신건강복지센터, 치매안심센터, 종합사회복지관의 아웃리치 프로그램과 결합 방식. 복지 기관의 이동 및 인솔 지원을 통한 뮤지엄 공간을 치유 장소로 공유.

소규모 사립 뮤지엄의 강점은 빠른 의사결정과 특유의 친밀한 환경성입니다. 거대한 예산이 없더라도 ‘지역사회 거점 치유 공간’이라는 서비스 프레임을 적용한다면, 작은 뮤지엄이야말로 대중이 문턱 없이 찾을 수 있는 가장 따뜻한 일상적 치유 거점이 될 수 있습니다.

크리스텐슨: 선생님의 프레임워크를 접하는 미국이나 유럽의 독자들에게, 한국적 맥락 중 그대로 옮겨질 수 없고 단순히 복제해서도 안 되는 부분은 무엇이라고 말씀하시겠어요?

주하나: 서구(특히 북미나 영국)와 한국의 환경에서 가장 크게 다른 점은 ’행정 및 재정 구조(Governance & Funding)’와 ’정신건강 서비스에 접근하는 시점’입니다. 따라서 한국 모델의 행정 절차나 정책 방식을 그대로 복제하기보다는, 각 국가의 문화적·제도적 토양에 맞추어 재해석해야 합니다.

첫째, 탑다운(Top-down)과 바텀업(Bottom-up)이 결합된 거버넌스 구조입니다. 미국이나 유럽은 기부 문화, 민간 재단 펀딩, 혹은 NHS처럼 제도화된 보건 체계를 바탕으로 현장 중심의 자율적 시도가 활발합니다. 반면 한국은 지자체의 공공디자인 및 문화복지 정책, 지자체 예산 체계와 긴밀히 연동된 ‘공공 이니셔티브’가 동반되어야 지속 가능성을 확보할 수 있습니다. 민간 기부나 1차 의료 중심의 자원 전달 체계가 발달한 서구에서 한국의 지자체 연계형 행정 모델을 그대로 이식하는 것은 현실과 맞지 않을 수 있습니다.

둘째, 정신건강 개입에 도달하는 경로(Direction of Entry)입니다. 영국의 사회적 처방이 1차 의료(GP)에서 시작되어 지역사회 문화 자원으로 외연을 확장하는 ‘의료에서 출발한 연계’라면, 한국 모델은 정신건강 치료에 대한 사회적 낙인(Stigma)과 의료보험 수가와 같은 문화적이고 행정 제도적 특성을 고려했습니다. 병원 방문 이전 단계에서 미술관이라는 비임상적 공공 공간을 통해 먼저 정서적 문턱을 낮추고, 필요시 치료나 복지로 연결하는 ‘일상에서 시작하는 마중물’ 역할을 하도록 설계되었습니다.

결국 서구 독자들이 한국 프레임워크에서 취해야 할 것은 특정한 행정 양식이 아니라, 미술치료적 정서 안전망을 공공 공간의 서비스 프로세스와 결합해 낸 ‘통합적 설계 원리’입니다. 각자의 국가가 가진 보건·문화 시스템의 특성에 맞게 프레임을 재구성하는 유연성이 필요합니다.

크리스텐슨: 논문을 마치신 지금, 어떤 작업을 준비하고 계신가요?

주하나: 박사학위 논문을 마친 후 저의 작업은 크게 ‘학문적 공유와 교육’ 및 ’현장 중심의 실천적 확장(Real-world Implementation)’이라는 두 가지 축으로 이어지고 있습니다.

우선 모교인 홍익대학교 교육대학원에서 석·박사 과정 미술치료 강의를, 서울여자대학교 글로벌융합전공에서 서비스디자인 강의를 맡아 학생들을 만나고 있습니다. 개인적으로는 디자인과 미술치료의 융합을 통해 사회적 가치를 창출해 나갈 미래 연구자와 실무자들을 양성하는 데 주력하고 있습니다. 또한 그동안 한국 현장에서 미술치료사이자 디자이너로서 겪었던 시도와 고민, 데이터들을 통합적인 시각으로 풀어낸 단행본 출간 준비를 위해 글을 쓰고 있습니다.

동시에 연구가 논문 안에만 머물지 않고 현장에서 생명력을 갖도록 실천적 거버넌스를 적극적으로 수행하고 있습니다. 박사 연구를 바탕으로 구축된 홍익대학교(미술치료전공 및 공공디자인연구센터) - 수원시 - 수원시립미술관 간의 협력 프로젝트가 지난해(2025년) 4월 협약 체결 이후 현재 2년 차에 접어들어 안정적이 되면서, 좀 더 사회적 처방 개념으로 고도화하여 운영하고 있습니다.

특히 올 가을에는 수원시 돌봄정책과의 요청으로 대상층이 확대되어, 청년 및 중장년층을 포함해 사회적 고립 위험에 노출되기 쉬운 ‘1인 가구’의 우울 예방과 정서적 안녕을 위한 뮤지엄 미술치료 프로젝트를 다시 한 번, 다학제적 팀이 공동디자인으로 추진할 예정입니다. 학술적 검증을 마친 프레임워크가 실제 지자체의 복지 행정과 만나 지속 가능한 공공서비스로 정착해 가는 과정을 현장에서 또 한번 협력하며 새롭게 만들어가고 있습니다.

크리스텐슨: 이 분야에서 일하고 싶지만 자국에 아직 선례를 찾기 어려운 학생에게 어떤 말씀을 해 주시고 싶으신가요?

주하나: 제가 이 길을 처음 시작할 때 대단한 사명감이나 거창한 계획이 있었던 것은 아니었습니다. 그저 ‘미술관이라는 좋은 공간이 더 많은 사람에게 위로가 될 수도 있지 않을까?’, ‘어떻게 하면 집, 병원, 복지관, 치료실 밖으로 나와 사람들과 만나며 소통의 장으로 경험하게 할 수 있을까?’라는 현실적인 고민에 답을 찾고 문제를 풀고 싶었습니다. 그 질문에 답을 찾아가며 사람들을 만나고 고민을 나누다 보니, 자연스럽게 여러 영역이 만나고 새로운 연구도 시작하게 된 것 같습니다.

만약 자국에 선례가 없어 막막함을 느끼고 있다면, 먼저 나와 비슷한 고민을 하는 주변의 사람들을 찾아보시길 권합니다. 그것이 미술관 에듀케이터일 수도 있고, 지역 사회복지사나 정책 담당자일 수도 있습니다. 완벽한 제도가 없더라도 서로의 언어를 이해하며 나눌 수 있는 작은 대화부터 시작해 보세요.

그리고 당장 할 수 있는 아주 작은 규모의 프로젝트부터 시도해 보세요. 거창한 예산이나 기관 간의 공식적인 협약이 아니더라도 괜찮습니다. 내가 만날 수 있는 몇 명의 사람들과 작은 공간에서 미술치료적 접근을 시도해 보고, 그분들의 표정이 어떻게 변하는지 관찰해 보는 겁니다. 그 작은 경험들이 쌓여 다음 단계로 나아갈 수 있는 현실적인 힌트가 될 것입니다.

선례는 처음부터 주어지는 것이 아니라, 현장의 필요에 공감하고 작은 발걸음을 떼는 과정에서 조금씩 만들어지는 것 같습니다. 당장 눈앞에 길이 보이지 않는다고 조급해질 수도 있을 거에요. 하지만 스스로의 질문에 충실하며 한 걸음씩 걷다 보면, 어느새 비슷한 방향을 향해 걷는 동료와 사람들을 만나게 되는 시간이 주어지는 것 같습니다.

저 역시 한국에서 여러분을 응원하겠습니다. 고맙습니다.

읽어 주셔서 감사합니다. 귀한 시간과 깊은 생각을 나누어 주시고, 한국어와 영어 두 언어로 독자들을 만날 수 있도록 해 주신 주하나 선생님께 감사드립니다.

Museum wall labels are about ninety words long. Artist, title, date, medium, a sentence of context. They are not lying to you, exactly. They’re just leaving out the part where the painter was broke, or grieving, or on his thirtieth name change, or painting from a hospital bed, or being paid an absurd sum by a widow who wanted portraits of her forty-two cats.

That last one is real, and it’s week 7.

After Hours at the Museum: Stories & Studio is a sixteen-week virtual open studio built on a simple premise of spending real time with the story behind one work of art, then making something of your own while it’s still in your head. Not a copy of it but something that belongs to you, made in response.

Over the fall season we’ll sit with Rothko’s color fields, Hokusai’s great wave, Van Gogh’s night sky, Magritte’s man with an apple for a face, the two most parodied faces in American painting, Kusama’s dots, Klimt’s gold, Frida Kahlo, and Matisse making some of the boldest work of his life with scissors, from a chair, because he could no longer stand at an easel.

The stories are better than you’d think. Hokusai went bankrupt, lost his studio to fire, changed his name more than thirty times, and made the wave in his seventies, then wrote that if he could live to a hundred and ten, every dot he made would be alive. Rothko spent over twenty years teaching art to children in Brooklyn because he believed they made marks without stopping to ask whether the marks were any good, and that adults get trained out of it. Matisse called the cut-outs a second life.

There’s a thread running through all of them, and it isn’t talent. It’s people who kept making things under conditions that would have been a perfectly good excuse to stop.

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Why we build it this way

The hardest moment in any open studio is the blank page, the feeling of produce something, from nothing, in front of people, with no idea what’s expected. Beginning from an existing artwork changes that problem entirely. The work on the screen becomes the thing everyone is responding to, and it gives the group somewhere to look that isn’t each other’s hands. It’s a long-standing move in museum-based practice, and it holds. If you are a long time reader of museotherapy than you’re familiar with the science behind it.

Each session runs the same way: a interesting story, a low-stakes warm-up you make while you listen, an invitation to make art, and time at the end to talk about what came out of it, but only if you want to. Nobody is ever required to show their work or say anything about it.

The practical details

• Thursdays, 7-8:30 CT, on Zoom

• Beginning August 20th — come to one, come to all of them

• Open to any adult, 18+

• Free

• No art experience needed. No technique instruction and no critique, ever.

• No required materials

• Sharing is invited, never required.

Facilitated by me, Brooke Christensen, through PennWest University’s Art Therapy program.

REGISTER HERE

https://www.eventbrite.com/e/after-hours-at-the-museum-stories-and-studio-tickets-1997623617013?aff=oddtdtcreator

If you’ve been meaning to make something again and haven’t found the excuse, here are sixteen of them. Bring whatever’s in the drawer.

By far, one of my favorite museums in Paris is the Museé Rodin. Somehow, I stumbled on it at the perfect time of day (hint: it’s the afternoon, after a quick espresso). Once you check in, you are invited to stroll through the gardens. It’s a welcome intermediate space between the bustling street and the nearly silent interior (except the audible “oh, wow!” that escaped my body in every room).

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As we reach the midpoint of the year, the International Museotherapy Initiative remains at the center of this global conversation. We're connecting researchers, clinicians, and cultural institutions working to share knowledge and experience.

The IMI team will head to the North Texas Art Therapy’s Summer Mini Conference this weekend. Together we’ll be presenting What International Museum-Based Art Therapy Teaches Us About Where Healing Happens. Join us if you can!

Looking forward to continuing this journey together,

Minette & Brooke

Some recent museotherapy updates and links from around the web:

In April, Marywood University's art therapy program spotlighted museum-based practice in its curriculum, with Professor Abigail Oxford sharing how she has used vibrant gallery walls in memory care and hospital settings to help clients reminisce and connect with themselves and others.

The Horniman Museum and Gardens in London is currently wrapping up a multi-week art psychotherapy program using museum objects with adults living with social isolation and/or mental ill health. Small groups of up to 8 participants handle objects from the museum's collection, make art, and share in a therapeutic group setting.

The British Association of Art Therapists (BAAT) annual conference "Sustaining Care: Art Therapy for Workforce, Communities and Individuals" is currently in its early-bird registration window (ending June 30, 2026). It will feature a session specifically on "Community-based art psychotherapy in museum settings" presented by Julia Cort, an art therapist from the Horniman Museum

The 16th IEATA International Conference is set for June 20-22 in Beverly, Massachusetts.

The Expressive Arts Therapies Summit is set for August 23-27 in Sedona, Arizona.

The European Art Therapies Conference is set for Sept 8-11, 2026 in Pula, Croatia. The EFAT Conference is biannual and will continue in 2027, but t

The AATA Conference is set for October 14-17 in Charlotte, North Carolina followed by a virtual conference from November 14–15, 2026

Lastly, if you are in the museum, art therapy, or museotherapy world and you are hiring, feel free to drop a line. If you’re a graduate student or someone looking for a job in the field or want to get involved, please don’t hesitate to do the same. Let’s connect!

www.museotherapy.org

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Meet any art therapist and most will tell you that art therapists belong everywhere; Our work is an integral mental health profession, and we have something to offer every type of environment. In more recent years, this discussion has continued, and art therapists are making the case for bringing their work into museums citing the therapeutic factors of museum spaces (Silverman, 2009). Other example programs that have been successful contribute to this desire to bring art therapy into the museum space (Daugherty, 2022). On the surface, museum spaces seem ripe for meeting community needs, but what about the needs of the art therapist as an employee? 

Full-time work is difficult to come by in museums and is something art therapists are seeking. In my conversations at past American Art Therapy Association Conferences, in emails and phone calls, and in-person meetings, art therapists interested in museum work are seeking stability that full-time employment brings: insurance, steady paychecks, paid time off, and other benefits that can help them support themselves and their families. While I understand this desire, and it was certainly a motivating factor in me accepting my first role as a full-time museum-based art therapist, are art therapists and the way we work a good match for the museum environment full-time?

I’m going to preface this discussion by saying that I think amazing work can happen in museum spaces. They are ripe for personal reflection, and using existing works of art and artifacts as catalysts for personal growth- there isn’t anything better in my opinion. The discussion that comes next is more of a musing on some of the things I was not expecting that I, and others, have encountered when working in museums. This discussion is not one in literature that has been researched heavily, but rather a collection of thoughts I have absorbed over the years from colleagues. It is my hope to do additional formal research in the coming months on the experience of the art therapist in the museum, but for now, these composed thoughts will hopefully begin a fruitful discussion of the ways art therapists work in museums.  

Like I mentioned previously, I have had many discussions with art therapists working in museums and those who are interested in starting programs in these institutions as well as art therapists previously employed in museums. There are a few things that have come up on repeat that are worth noting: 1) a lack of understanding and support institution-wide for art therapy, 2) a general frustration regarding the impact donors are allowed to have on programming, and 3) the high level of burnout experienced in a very short time.  

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Let’s talk first about a lack of understanding and support. Many art therapists working in museums spend a lot of time educating the public and staff about the profession of art therapy and what it looks like in the museum. They share that art therapists are concerned with the meanings and connections guests or visitors make with works of art and are less interested in the artist’s intent and other scholarly information often presented on wall labels or in exhibition catalogues. As you can imagine, this is difficult for some individuals in the museum environment to grasp and support, as their work places emphasis on the exact opposite- those scholarly facts about the artist, the movement they were a part of, and materials used are of the utmost importance. In addition to this tension that arises, many art therapy programs are championed by one person. It might be a museum director, a curator, a director of education, or someone in charge of public programming, but this one person is often responsible for the existence of art therapy programming in their institution. Museums often have high turnover rates for staff, and when that champion leaves, art therapy programs often suffer, or at the very least are changed in drastic ways. This can leave art therapists feeling frustrated at all the work they did to become an integral part of the museum staff and have their programming supported by the museum and the community, just to have it disappear or change significantly when their art therapy champion leaves.  

How programs are funded is another concern amongst art therapists in museums. Most museums are funded in some capacity by donors. Some donors gift works of art while others provide financial support for the institution. In some instances, the funds provided by donors come with stipulations that impact the type of programming that can occur, the number of individuals served by the programming, or the artwork utilized during programming. This is especially problematic for art therapy programming in museums. Let’s go back for a moment to my time in graduate school. I was taught that everything we do is in service to our clients. According to the Art Therapy Credentials Board (n.d.), “Art therapists shall provide services which are in the best interest of the client and shall make their best efforts to support each client’s rights and maximize the therapeutic benefit for each client.” You’re thinking about self-disclosing- is that for you or for the client? If it’s for you, put that comment to the side; it’s not the right time to share. You feel like painting today- is that your need or the client’s need? If it’s your need, put the paint back and grab colored pencils, because that what your client needs. Art therapists do our best to put clients first, not our own agenda, and we would prefer not to place institutional needs above the needs of our clients. When donors are involved and have significant say in the types of programming provided in museums, art therapists as a part of this system are unable to put community needs first. There is some of this that exists in almost every job an art therapist has- it is not isolated to museums. Any job where an art therapist works with insurance companies is somewhat beholden to what they deem appropriate for clients; the number of sessions allowed or specific services provided or covered are dictated by the insurance companies, not the clinician providing the services and seeing firsthand the real needs of the client. So why would institution first or donor first allegiance be problematic in the museum setting if this type of thing happens everywhere art therapists work? In my experience speaking with other art therapists, employment at a museum is seen as a way to get out of the “system.” They believe they will be in full control of programming, without having the same restrictions placed on them like in community mental health centers when dealing with insurance companies. This can leave the art therapist feeling like the job they took at the museum is not what they thought it would be leading to frustration.

Combine these two points above with difficulty maintaining boundaries and you have a recipe for burnout. There is a sense of urgency always present in the museum environment. Emails that come through need answered yesterday, and there is almost always a more urgent need than what just came through not 2 minutes prior. Everything feels rushed, which was always a bit strange to me considering exhibitions are planned years in advance. When talking with other museum-based art therapists, there almost always is a connection made between the push for increases in programming, both the numbers of programs and the number of people attending those programs, and the lack of adequate staff to create and manage these programs that creates this sense of urgency. If museums don’t have enough new staff to cover increases in programming, this causes current staff to spend more and more time leading and creating programming, leaving the other administrative tasks they complete to be placed on the back burner. These tasks pushed aside are often completed at the absolute last second possible, thus enters the sense of urgency. Most clinicians are told to leave work at work as much as possible; complete your notes before leaving for the night and be sure to take a minute to decompress before tending to other roles in your life like being a spouse or a parent. This is almost impossible in the museum environment. Most art therapists I talk to that work full-time, and even part-time in the museum have the feeling of being on call. Emails are expected to be answered in the evening or on vacation if it’s urgent. This way of working contrasts with the things we often teach our clients about work life balance and leads to a blurring of boundaries and for a job to take the number one place in someone’s life.

Now, shall we attempt to answer the question I posed earlier? Are art therapists a good fit for the museum environment full time? The truth is, it depends on the priorities of the individual, but I do think we need to think hard before we push art therapists to be in every museum in the country. What I am going to propose is a different way of approaching the intersection of art therapy and museums. What if we push for art therapists as independent contractors? This allows the art therapist to have the most control over the type of programming they offer, all while avoiding some of the challenges of being immersed in the museum environment. These art therapists could partner with other non-profit organizations like recovery centers, eating disorder clinics, day centers for adults with cognitive challenges to write grants, create programming, and propose these ideas to the museum. Yes, this way of working has its challenges, and you still need an art therapy champion within the institution, but this way of working places clients, community, and art therapists’ needs in the center, with the museum playing a supporting role.

References 

Art Therapy Credentials Board. (n.d.). Code governing standards of practice, eligibility for and regulation of credentials, and disciplinary procedures. https://atcb.org/ethics-appeals-lp/code-of-ethics-conduct-and-disciplinary-procedures/ 

Ghadim, M. R., & Daugherty, L. (Eds.) (2022). Museum-based art therapy: A collaborative effort with access, education, and public programs. Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781003014386 

Silverman, L. (2009). The social work of museums. Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9780203862964 

Welcome back, we’re glad to send a belated hello to you in 2026.

As museums worldwide continue to expand their role from cultural repositories to vital healing spaces, this first quarter has brought exciting developments in museum-based art therapy and wellness programming. The field is experiencing remarkable momentum from groundbreaking research validating the therapeutic mechanisms of museum experiences to new institutional programs serving diverse communities. Whether you're a museum professional, art therapist, researcher, or advocate, here's what shaped the conversation from January through March.

Minette & Brooke

P.S. If you haven’t already, please take a moment to explore our newest addition: The IMI Podcast. In the season, Brooke hosts wonderful interviews with leading museum curators, educators, art therapists, and more. Paid subscribers have access to full, unedited interviews.

Some Recent Museum-Based Art Therapy Updates From Around the Web:

Arts on prescription is now officially active in Greece as a governmental initiative (hope you can read Greek!), following a Memorandum of Cooperation between the Ministries of Culture and Health, aimed at boosting mental health through cultural activities. The program, often referred to as “Art on Prescription” or Cultural Prescription, allows health professionals to refer individuals to structured, free-of-charge creative activities like dance, museum visits, and visual arts.

At the tail-end of 2025, an architectural study investigated the restorative benefits of art museum spatial structures in Japan by integrating Space Syntax Theory and Attention Restoration Theory (ART).Correlation analysis indicated that certain SVCs of art museums were significantly associated with restorative benefits.

A study on museotherapy with Chinese youth was published on January 16, 2026 in Frontiers in Psychology, examining emotional experiences of 81 university students during workshops at the Shanghai University Museum. The research identified a characteristic "W-shaped" emotion curve and found 83.33% positive emotional shifts among participants.

Dr. Kathryn Snyder published her research on museum-based art therapy from the perspective of museum professionals and the potential for art therapy in museum and cultural spaces.

The Museum Wellbeing Summit 2026 took place virtually on January 28-29, bringing together case studies from around the world on how museums support community health, including work with NEET youth, healthcare professionals, and addressing climate emotions.

The Museum of Cycladic Art in Athens will launch free wellness workshops for adults 65+ starting March 30, 2026. The eight-week program, led by a psychologist and art psychotherapist, explores themes including personal happiness, relationships, coping with loss, and resilience techniques through artistic activities like painting and clay work.

The New York Times article "An Overlooked Prescription for Happiness" by Jancee Dunn was published in February 2026. The piece features Dr. Daisy Fancourt, a professor of psychobiology and epidemiology at University College London who has studied the effects of arts on health for 15 years. Dr. Fancourt recognizes the arts as "the forgotten fifth pillar of health.” This article helps bring museotherapy and arts-based wellness into the mainstream health conversation. The article specifically mentions museums as therapeutic spaces and provides practical advice for incorporating arts into daily life. This also comes in conjunction with her new book “Art Cure: The Science of How the Arts Save Lives.”

The New Orleans Museum of Art announced on January 26 an expansion of wellness programs, doubling their tai chi and yoga offerings starting February 26 with new Wednesday classes in the Besthoff Sculpture Garden. This reflects the museum’s commitment to holistic creative programming and community wellbeing. They also have a wonderful program called Creative Aging, which you can find here or by clicking the image below.

If you are in the museum, art therapy, or museotherapy world and you are hiring, feel free to drop a line. If you’re a graduate student or someone looking for a job in the field or want to get involved with IMI, please don’t hesitate to do the same.

For this conversation, I spoke with Maria Büter, a research associate and clinical art therapist at the Sigmund Freud University Berlin. Her work is part of Opening Up New Spaces with Art Therapy in Museums, a program that brings psychodynamic and receptive art therapy approaches into museum settings through structured workshops, research initiatives, and clinical training.

What follows is a conversation about museums as functional partners in mental health work. About prevention rather than crisis. About structure without clinical framing. And about what art therapy can look like when it meets people where they already are.
Please enjoy this written interview!

Illustration on the interior of a Greek kylix, Achilles dressing the wounds of Patroclus, Attic red figure, Vulci, Italy, ca. 500 BC, signed by the potter Sosias © Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Antikensammlung / Johannes Laurentius

Brooke Christensen: How did the Art Therapy in Museums project originate at SFU Berlin, and what theoretical or clinical ideas inspired it?

Maria Büter: The project originated at SFU Berlin at the intersection of clinical experience, academic teaching, and a growing interest in preventive formats beyond classical psychotherapy. Within the Department of Psychotherapy Science and the Clinical Art Therapy program, we repeatedly encountered students and patients who were psychologically burdened but not necessarily in need of—or ready for—clinical treatment.

It began with a simple curiosity: What happens when you take therapy out of the clinic and into a museum? We were inspired by psychodynamic ideas—how people project, reflect, and find meaning—and wondered how artworks could catalyze these processes. Clinically, we were drawn to the idea that museums might offer a safe yet stimulating environment for emotional exploration and self-expression. The first project by the SFU of this sort was actually conducted in Celle in 2019, where students were able to carry out diverse workshops, combining art therapy and museum education.

At the same time, SFU Berlin has a strong foundation in receptive art therapy, which focuses on aesthetic experience, inner imagery, and symbolic resonance rather than artistic production alone. The collaboration with the Altes Museum and the Antikensammlung of the Staatliche Museen zu Berlin provided a unique opportunity to translate these theoretical concepts into an embodied, real-world practice. From the beginning, the project was conceived both as a research initiative and as a structured workshop series closely linked to teaching and training at SFU Berlin.

Christensen: In your view, what distinguishes a museum setting as a therapeutic environment compared to a traditional clinical one?

Büter: Museums are special because they are public yet contemplative. They offer a rich symbolic world in which people can explore, reflect, and connect—without the walls or expectations of a therapy room. Entering a museum does not mean becoming a patient; it means engaging with art.

This shift is crucial. In the museum, it is less about “being treated” and more about discovering something about oneself in dialogue with an artwork. In our workshops at the Antikensammlung in the Altes Museum, this difference is immediately tangible. Participants encounter artworks in a calm atmosphere that supports slowness and openness.

The museum becomes a shared external space where inner experiences can emerge indirectly, through engagement with art rather than through direct self-disclosure. This significantly lowers psychological thresholds and supports participation motivated by curiosity, reflection, and self-care rather than pathology.

Christensen: What psychological or psychodynamic processes do you observe emerging uniquely within museum spaces?

Büter: We observe projection and transference in a particularly vivid way. People often relate personally to artworks, and this relationship sparks reflection, insight, and emotional movement. Through receptive engagement, inner images, memories, and associations emerge spontaneously—they are not imposed, but discovered.

Works of art offer a subjective space for experience in which emotional effects can develop and a psycho-aesthetic experience becomes possible. In modern art psychology, works of art are characterized by self-preservation, self-transformation, and self-catalysis. All of this happens through the radiation of the energy that was once formed into it by the artists.

The museum context also enhances symbolic distancing. Artworks act as mediators between inner and outer reality, allowing participants to speak about an artwork and, through that, indirectly about themselves. This facilitates affect regulation, reflection, and the development of an individual aesthetic standpoint.

In group settings, there is also a communal dimension: participants resonate with one another’s interpretations, creating shared meaning. This collective resonance supports emotional growth while respecting individual boundaries.

Christensen: Could you describe a specific collaboration between SFU and a museum that felt particularly transformative?

Büter: The ongoing collaboration with the Altes Museum and the Antikensammlung has been particularly transformative because it brings together research, teaching, and public engagement. The workshop series functions not only as a research project but also as a binding educational format for SFU students, with the possibility of practicum recognition.

At the same time, we have witnessed deeply moving moments in earlier collaborations, including with contemporary art collections. In one workshop, a participant who had great difficulty expressing emotions verbally found a way to communicate grief through responding artistically to an abstract artwork. Experiences like these reveal the museum as a catalyst for emotional and creative breakthroughs.

For participants, engaging in a structured, recurring group within a museum often leads to a new sense of belonging—both to the group and to the cultural space itself. For us as clinicians and educators, these collaborations have fundamentally reshaped our understanding of museums as active partners in mental health promotion rather than passive venues.

Christensen: What challenges arise when translating clinical frameworks into public or educational museum contexts?

Büter: One of the main challenges is balancing openness with safety and structure. Museums are not controlled environments like clinics—there are visitors, movement, and distractions—yet therapeutic processes still require containment.

A central concern is maintaining therapeutic clarity without transforming the museum into a clinical space. Our workshops are explicitly framed as health-promoting group offerings, not psychotherapy. This requires careful language, transparent communication, and a clearly structured format.

Another challenge lies in interdisciplinary collaboration. Museum professionals primarily work within educational frameworks, while clinicians focus on psychological processes. Ongoing dialogue and shared planning are essential. We address these challenges through fixed group sizes, mandatory participation, and a clearly defined workshop sequence that allows both freedom and containment.

Christensen: How do you navigate confidentiality, containment, and boundaries in spaces that are both public and therapeutic?

Büter: From the outset, we are very clear with participants about confidentiality, respectful interaction, and the limits of the setting. We create physical and temporal boundaries by working in designated museum spaces and within defined time frames.

Group sizes are limited to around 10–12 participants, and participation is based on commitment to the full workshop series. Each session follows a consistent structure: a short guided relaxation, dialogical artwork viewing, a creative phase, and a moderated group conversation.

This structure provides psychological containment, while debriefings and reflective prompts help participants process experiences without exposing sensitive material in public. Many participants experience the museum itself as a stabilizing container—public enough to feel safe, yet structured enough to allow vulnerability.

Christensen: How do cultural and societal attitudes toward mental health in Germany and Europe shape your approach?

Büter: In Germany and across Europe, mental health is increasingly discussed, yet stigma and access barriers remain. There is also a strong cultural emphasis on privacy. For this reason, we deliberately frame our museum-based formats as creative and reflective workshops rather than therapy.

Museums enjoy a high level of social trust. Art therapy in this context makes it possible to understand mental well-being as part of everyday cultural life—and not just as a medical issue. Our approach is based on European traditions of public education and cultural participation. The integration of people with mental and physical disabilities is particularly important to us. Through barrier-free museum offerings and preventive measures, we promote inclusive access to art and culture.

By focusing on curiosity, aesthetic experience, and self-reflection, we respond to the need for low-threshold, non-stigmatizing support services.

Christensen: What might art therapists and museum professionals in the U.S. learn from the European model, and vice versa?

Büter: The European model highlights close collaboration between therapists, universities, and cultural institutions as part of preventive health strategies. This integration of art therapy into public cultural infrastructure may be particularly instructive internationally.

At the same time, U.S. programs often place strong emphasis on evaluation, measurable outcomes, and community outreach. These approaches could further strengthen European initiatives. A transatlantic exchange could help develop programs that are both deeply experiential and rigorously supported by research.

Christensen: What kinds of psychological outcomes or shifts have you observed in participants?

Büter: Participants frequently report increased calmness, emotional clarity, and a renewed sense of connection—to themselves, to others, and to art. Many gain emotional insight, creative expression, and a stronger sense of agency. Group settings often enhance social connection and empathy. Our pilot-research also showed, that participants in general felt more positive emotions (like feeling activated joyful) and less negative emotions after the workshops compared to before.

Anecdotally, moments stand out when participants articulate inner experiences through images or creative gestures that had previously remained diffuse or inaccessible. For example, individuals struggling with grief have found nonverbal ways to express their emotions through engagement with sculpture or painting. These moments often mark meaningful shifts toward self-awareness and well-being, which is why the project is accompanied by ongoing evaluation.

Christensen: Looking ahead, how do you envision the role of art therapists evolving within museums and other cultural institutions?

Büter: We see art therapists becoming integral to museums—not just leading workshops, but collaborating on exhibitions, community engagement, and education. Museums could become hybrid spaces for mental well-being, creativity, and reflection. Therapists may increasingly advocate for mental health in public spaces, expanding how people access and experience therapy.

Over the next decade, we see art therapists increasingly working as mediators between artworks and audiences. Their role will extend beyond education toward supporting reflective, inclusive, and health-promoting encounters with art.

Museums may increasingly collaborate with art therapists to develop structured programs that address well-being, inclusion, and social resilience. In this sense, art therapists contribute to opening “new spaces” within cultural institutions—spaces that care not only for collections, but for human experience.

Thank you for reading. I’m forever grateful to Maria Büter and the staff at Sigmund Freud PrivatUniversität Berlin for their openness to this interview and for the time and thought invested in these responses.

For this conversation, we spoke with Pascaline Bonnave, an art therapist at the Palais des Beaux-Arts de Lille, where she has led museum-based art therapy groups for over thirteen years. Her work focuses on welcoming people who might not otherwise feel that the museum is “for them,” and transforming a public, historic space into a place of care, containment, and creative expression.

A brief transparency note: I (Brooke) don’t speak French fluently. The interview questions were translated into French using trusty ol’ Google Translate, and Pascaline generously responded in French. This also goes for the French title and byline as well. In our correspondence, Pascaline also expressed a desire for the interview to be accessible to English-speaking readers, so both French and English versions are included here. Any awkward phrasing is mine, not hers.

What follows is a conversation about creating a therapeutic bubble inside a public institution, and why art, culture, and care don’t need to exist in separate worlds. Please enjoy this written interview!

Claude Monet’s Houses of Parliament, London from the collection at Palais des Beaux-Arts de Lille

Pascaline Bonnave: Working at the museum means having the works available as an entry point into the session, which takes place as follows:

· Welcome and presentation time

· Visit time with objectives according to the problems of the groups

· Creative time in the workshop, project adapted to the objectives related to the work presented

· Sharing time oriented according to the project

· Time to say goodbye

Brooke Christensen: How would you describe your role as an art therapist here at the Palais des Beaux-Arts in Lille?

Bonnave: My role is to welcome a public who would not necessarily have come to the museum on their own initiative. A place that can be impressive. Some people are unable to leave their homes, others still think that the museum is not a place for them. They did not have access to it because of their social background. Coming with a group of people, supervised by a caregiver, is reassuring. It is a first step towards autonomy to return alone or, later, with your family.

Christensen: How does working in a museum differ from working in a practice or other traditional therapeutic setting?

Bonnave: The major difference is that the groups are welcomed in a public space, the museum is municipal. It is a place of conservation of works of art that testifies to our past on a social, cultural and artistic level. It is part of our collective memory.

Having an appointment at the museum, being invited, being expected there is rewarding. It is to integrate socially. It brings to life and testifies to its existence in this magnificent place, a place of art and culture. The work of the art therapist is to create a containing bubble with health objectives so that this place becomes a place of care.

The work of art, starting point of the session, allows you to immerse yourself in a primary emotion in contemplation, to solicit the sensory sensors. The work brings reflection and the expression of one’s feelings in sharing. It is to become familiar with verbal communication, to dare to speak in front of and with others. Assert your taste, without risk. Looking at a painting fully allows you to turn outwards and leave your ruminations aside. It is also the starting point for inspiration to develop a personal artistic project in the second part of the session. To apprehend a work of art is also to have access to culture. Knowledge of a painting brings social, historical and artistic enrichment. Also take an interest in the artist, the human being at the origin of the work in a historical context.

The museum offers a time for oneself out of time in the contemplation of works of art.

Christensen: When preparing for a session, how do you choose the works or places in the museum that you are going to use?

Bonnave: I carefully choose the work or works according to my groups in connection with the artistic project that follows and especially according to my care objectives. Do they need to develop their creativity, let go, concentrate, reconnect with the outside world, etc.? The choice of different mediums will also be decisive in achieving my session objectives.

I avoid works that can awaken trauma, make them uncomfortable or hurt the sensibilities of the people in charge.

Christensen: Who do you work with the most, and how do they react to being in a museum?

Bonnave: I welcome groups from different places of care, or different departments of the hospital. Children, adolescents and adults. Adolescents in psychiatric care with various disorders. People diagnosed with Alzheimer’s with their caregiver. Couples followed in assisted reproduction. The league against cancer. Children with autism spectrum disorders. Adults in social reintegration. I also went to prison for “off-site” sessions. I also offer screenings for the general public, people can register via the museum’s website for single screenings on Friday mornings and also on Wednesday evenings all year round.

Coming to the museum is a prestigious outing, it is a cultural, artistic and social place. For some people, it is difficult to get out of the house. Once through the security gate, they are no longer patients but visitors. They may be impressed during their first visit but I wait for them at the reception and reassure them, always with kindness, I introduce myself and present them with the course of the session which always follows the same ritual in order to give them bearings.

Christensen: What are some small challenges or unforeseen events that you encounter while working in a public space like this?

Bonnave: Today, after thirteen years of practice at the museum, I no longer encounter any difficulties. I now have a place dedicated to art therapy, which is a bubble built within the atrium, out of sight, like a reassuring cocoon. Before, I didn’t have a dedicated space and it was difficult to occupy a space that met the standards I wanted, a space containing as a priority. It is also by communicating with the surveillance agents that the reception of these different audiences goes smoothly. I was also able to raise their awareness by offering them an art therapy session.

Christensen: Without going into personal details, was there a moment when you said to yourself: “Yes, that’s why art therapy in museums is important”?

Bonnave: Yes, every day confirms the interest of art therapy in the museum! Practicing in this place is magical! Having the works available is an entry point into the session as a first impression, this first impression that will lead to expression, whether verbal or artistic. This creates a bubble where it is no longer possible to think about anything other than being here and now in the museum!

Christensen: How do you find the balance between what the museum wants to offer and the needs of your participants?

Bonnave: The museum wants to be inclusive, welcoming different audiences contributes to this. Sometimes they are first-time visitors, who then return accompanied. The museum offers art therapy care, with an adapted schedule throughout the year. Patients are prescribed by the healthcare team. I organize my sessions to meet the needs and problems of the groups with objectives discussed beforehand with the various caregivers. I am part of the team of visual guides with a different audience. From the outside, you can’t see the difference. (I don’t know if I’m answering the question correctly).

Christensen: Here at PBA Lille, what does “well-being” mean to you in your daily practice?

Bonnave: I prefer to talk about “well-being”! I put everything in place so that people participate and finish the session better than when they arrived! My primary objective is for people to feel good, to forget their problems, to be able to create, to leave with a production they are not proud of, to be able to talk about this past moment, to dare to repeat the experience!

Christensen: What do you think art therapy in museums allows that other places cannot?

Bonnave: The museum is a place where works of art are kept and that bear witness to our common history. Each work is a starting point for a project. It is a good place to immerse yourself and stop thinking about your illness. It’s realizing that you’re alive and still able to be interested in art, to create, to be able to tell the story of your visit, to talk about something other than your illness. To leave with his production, to show it, to be proud and to want to continue.

The museum offers a vital boost!

Christensen: If there was one thing that other museums or therapists should know about this work, what would it be?

Bonnave: I think that benevolence is essential. Always welcome the public as if it were the first time, by being available with an ability to bounce back in the face of the unexpected. Have adaptability and creativity. In the context of a public place, it is very important that reception and surveillance agents are made aware of these fragile groups.

And give it your all! What we bring back to us is given back to us by the visible contentment of these visitors wounded by life.

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Le musée comme bulle de soin

Quand l’art-thérapie ouvre l’accès à la culture, au lien et à l’autonomie

Un entretien avec Pascaline Bonnave,

art-thérapeute au Palais des Beaux-Arts de Lille,

où elle accompagne depuis plus de treize ans des publics fragilisés à travers des dispositifs d’art-thérapie intégrés au musée.

Cet entretien s’inscrit dans une série en cours qui explore la manière dont l’art-thérapie existe au-delà du cadre clinique, notamment au sein des musées, des institutions publiques et des espaces culturels partagés. L’un des objectifs de cette série est de mettre en lumière des voix internationales, d’autant plus que de nombreux programmes de muséothérapie et d’art-thérapie en milieu muséal sont plus développés à l’international qu’ils ne le sont actuellement aux États-Unis.

Pour cette conversation, nous avons échangé avec Pascaline Bonnave, art-thérapeute au Palais des Beaux-Arts de Lille, où elle anime des groupes d’art-thérapie en musée depuis plus de treize ans. Son travail vise à accueillir des personnes qui ne se sentiraient pas spontanément légitimes dans un musée, et à transformer cet espace public et patrimonial en un lieu de soin, de contenance et de création.

Petite note de transparence : je (Brooke) ne parle pas couramment le français. Les questions de l’entretien ont donc été traduites en français à l’aide de notre fidèle Google Traduction, et Pascaline a très généreusement répondu en français. Cela vaut également pour le titre et la signature en français. Au fil de nos échanges, Pascaline a aussi exprimé le souhait que cet entretien soit accessible aux lecteur·rices anglophones ; c’est pourquoi les versions française et anglaise sont toutes deux proposées ici. Toute maladresse de formulation m’est entièrement attribuable — et non à elle.

Ce qui suit est une conversation bilingue autour de la création d’une « bulle thérapeutique » au sein d’une institution publique, et de la manière dont art, culture et soin peuvent coexister sans frontières.

Bonne lecture !

Pascaline Bonnave: Travailler au musée, c’est avoir les œuvres à disposition comme point d’entrée dans la séance qui se déroule comme suit :

· Temps d’accueil et de présentation

· Temps de visite avec objectifs selon les problématiques des groupes

· Temps créatif en atelier, projet adapté aux objectifs en lien avec l’œuvre présentée

· Temps de partage orienté selon le projet

· Temps pour se dire aurevoir

Brooke Christensen: Comment décririez-vous votre rôle d’art-thérapeute ici au Palais des Beaux-Arts de Lille ?

Bonnave: Mon rôle est d’accueillir un public qui ne serait pas forcément venu au musée de sa propre initiative. Lieu qui peut être impressionnant. Certaines personnes sont dans l’incapacité de sortir de chez elle, d’autres encore pensent que le musée n’est pas un endroit pour eux. Ils n’y ont pas eu accès de par leur milieu social. Venir avec un groupe constitué, encadré par un soignant rassure. C’est un premier pas vers l’autonomie pour y revenir seul ou, plus tard en famille.

Christensen: En quoi le travail en musée diffère-t-il du travail en cabinet ou dans un autre lieu thérapeutique traditionnel ?

Bonnave: La différence majeure est d’accueillir les groupes dans un espace public, le musée est municipal. C’est un lieu de conservation d’œuvres d’art qui témoigne de notre passé autant au niveau social, culturel et artistique. Il fait partie de notre mémoire collective.

Avoir rendez-vous au musée, y être invité, y être attendu est valorisant. C’est s’intégrer socialement. Cela rend vivant et témoigne de son existence dans ce lieu magnifique, lieu d’art et de culture. Le travail de l’art-thérapeute est de créer une bulle contenante avec des objectifs sanitaires afin que ce lieu devienne lieu de soins.

L’œuvre d’art, point de départ de la séance, permet de s’imprégner d’une émotion première dans la contemplation, solliciter les capteurs sensoriels. L’oeuvre amène une réflexion et l’expression de ses ressentis dans le partage. C’est se familiariser avec la communication verbale, oser parler devant et avec les autres. Affirmer son goût, sans risque.

Regarder pleinement une peinture permet de se tourner vers l’extérieur et de laisser de côté ses ruminations. C’est également le point de départ de l’inspiration pour élaborer un projet artistique personnel en seconde partie de séance. Appréhender une œuvre d’art c’est aussi accéder à la culture. La connaissance d’une peinture amène un enrichissement autant social, historique qu’artistique. S’intéresser également à l’artiste, l’être humain à l’origine de l’œuvre dans un contexte historique.

Le musée offre un temps pour soi hors du temps dans la contemplation des œuvres d’art.

Christensen: Quand vous préparez une séance, comment choisissez-vous les œuvres ou les endroits du musée que vous allez utiliser ?

Bonnave: Je choisis avec soin l’œuvre ou les œuvres en fonction de mes groupes en lien avec le projet artistique qui suit et surtout en fonction de mes objectifs de soins. Ont-ils besoin de développer leur créativité, de lâcher-prise, de concentration, de se reconnecter avec l’extérieur, etc. Le choix des différents médiums va être également décisif pour atteindre mes objectifs de séance.

J’évite les œuvres pouvant réveiller des traumatismes, mettre mal à l’aise ou heurter la sensibilité des personnes prises en charge.

Christensen: Avec quels publics travaillez-vous le plus, et comment réagissent-ils au fait d’être dans un musée ?

Bonnave: J’accueille des groupes venant de différents lieux de soins, ou différents services du centre hospitalier. Enfants, adolescents et adultes. Des adolescents en suivi psychiatrique présentant diverses troubles. Des personnes diagnostiqués Alzheimer avec leur aidant. Des couples suivis en procréation médicale assistée. La ligue contre le cancer. Des enfants présentant des troubles du spectre autistique. Des adultes en réinsertion sociale. Je me suis également déplacée en prison pour des séances « hors les murs ».

Je propose également des séances tout public, les personnes peuvent s’inscrire via le site du musée pour des séances à l’unité le vendredi matin et aussi le mercredi soir à l’année.

Venir au musée est une sortie prestigieuse, c’est un lieu culturel, artistique et social. Pour certaines personnes, il est difficile de sortir de chez soi. Une fois le portique de sécurité passé, ce ne sont plus des patients mais des visiteurs. Ils peuvent être impressionnés lors de leur première visite mais je les attends à l’accueil et les rassure, toujours avec bienveillance, je me présente et leur présente le déroulé de la séance qui suit toujours le même rituel afin de leur donner des repères.

Christensen: Quels sont les petits défis ou imprévus que vous rencontrez en travaillant dans un espace public comme celui-ci ?

Bonnave: Aujourd’hui, après treize années de pratique au musée, je ne rencontre plus de difficulté. J’ai maintenant un lieu dédié à l’art-thérapie, qui est une bulle construite au sein de l’atrium, à l’abri des regards, comme un cocon rassurant. Avant, je n’avais pas d’espace dédié et c’était difficile d’occuper un espace répondant aux normes que je souhaitais, un espace contenant en priorité.

C’est aussi en communiquant avec les agents de surveillance que l’accueil de ces publics différents se déroule sans heurt. J’ai pu les sensibiliser également en leur proposant une séance d’art-thérapie.

Christensen: Sans entrer dans les détails personnels, y a-t-il un moment où vous vous êtes dit : “Oui, c’est pour ça que l’art-thérapie en musée est importante” ?

Oui, chaque jour confirme l’intérêt de l’art-thérapie au musée ! Pratiquer dans ce lieu est magique ! Avoir les œuvres à disposition est un point d’entrée dans la séance comme première impression, cette première impression qui va entrainer l’expression, quelle soit verbale ou artistique. Cela permet de créer une bulle où il n’est plus possible de penser à autre chose que d’être ici et maintenant au musée !

Christensen: Comment trouvez-vous l’équilibre entre ce que le musée souhaite proposer et les besoins de vos participants ?

Bonnave: Le musée se veut inclusif, accueillir des publics différents y contribue. Ce sont parfois des primo visiteurs, qui reviennent ensuite accompagnés.

Le musée propose une prise en charge en art-thérapie, avec un planning adapté sur l’année. Les patients sont prescrits par l’équipe soignante. J’organise mes séances pour répondre aux besoins et problématiques des groupes avec des objectifs discutés en amont avec les différents soignants. Je fais partie de l’équipe des guides plasticiens avec un public différent. De l’extérieur on ne voit pas la différence. (Je ne sais pas si je réponds correctement à la question).

Christensen: Ici au PBA Lille, qu’est-ce que “le bien-être” signifie pour vous dans votre pratique quotidienne ?

Bonnave: Je préfère parler de « mieux-être » ! Je mets tout en place pour que les personnes participent et finissent la séance en étant mieux qu’en arrivant ! Mon objectif premier est que les personnes se sentent bien, qu’elles oublient leurs problèmes, qu’elles soient en capacité de créer, qu’elles repartent avec une production dont elles sont fières, qu’elles puissent parler de ce moment passé, qu’elles osent renouveler l’expérience !

Christensen: Qu’est-ce que l’art-thérapie en musée permet, selon vous, que d’autres lieux ne permettent pas ?

Bonnave: Le musée est un lieu de conservation d’œuvres qui témoigne de notre histoire commune. Chaque œuvre est un point de départ pour un projet. C’est un lieu propice pour s’immerger et ne plus penser à sa maladie. C’est se rendre compte qu’on est vivant et encore capable de s’intéresser à l’art, de créer, de pouvoir ensuite raconter sa visite, parler d’autre chose que sa maladie. Repartir avec sa production, la montrer, être fier et avoir envie de continuer.

Le musée offre un élan vital !

Christensen: S’il y avait une seule chose que les autres musées ou thérapeutes devraient savoir sur ce travail, ce serait quoi ?

Bonnave: Je pense que la bienveillance est primordiale. Toujours accueillir le public comme si c’était la première fois, en étant disponible avec une capacité à rebondir face à des imprévus. Avoir une adaptabilité et une créativité. Dans le contexte d’un lieu publique, il est très important que les agents d’accueil et de surveillance soient sensibilisés à ces publics fragiles.

Et se donner à fond ! Ce que l’on apporte nous est rendu par le contentement visible de ces visiteurs blessés par la vie.

At this 17th century villa, surrounded by gardens and Roman archaeological sites, sits 68 paintings and gouaches, 236 drawings, 218 prints, and 57 sculptures and personal objects dated from 1890 all the way to his final cut-out works.

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This museum visit recap was originally intended for our paid subscribers, however, in observance of the national strike, this article will be free to all members. Please enjoy.

This past winter, I had an incredible opportunity to visit the Musée l'Orangerie in Paris, France, to witness Claude Monet’s The Water Lilies. My expectation was that there would be one big room. However, there were two rooms in the building for his series— eight compositions, four in each room. I also learned that Monet designed this viewing space himself, stating that his intention was to provide the viewer with the “illusion of an endless whole, of a wave without horizon and without shore.” Even the sunlight coming in from the center of the ceiling washes the room with light that is muted with many layers. You can take a virtual tour here.

Monet expressed a profound sense of guilt about making art while World War I was raging around him, just miles from his home in Giverny. At the same time, he was grieving the loss of his son and wife while his country was being torn apart. In a letter from 1914, he wrote: “Yesterday I resumed my work. It’s the best way to avoid thinking of these sad times. All the same, I feel ashamed to think about my little researches into form and colour while so many people are suffering and dying…” Yet, he created these beautiful pieces of beauty and tranquility.

In times of sustained turbulence, the act of creating or seeking out beauty isn’t escapism; it’s a form of preserving what makes life worth living. Monet created the The Water Lilies to offer a “haven of peaceful meditation.” Today, they are permanently housed in the Musée de l’Orangerie as a symbol of peace and beauty, memorializing the end of WWI.

Some other notable artists who created through difficult circumstances include Frida Kahlo, who dealt with lifelong pain from a devastating bus accident and polio. Still, she created some of her most powerful self-portraits while bedridden or recovering from surgeries. Francisco Goya continued painting afer becoming deaf in his 40s and produced his haunting “Black Paintings” during Spain’s tumultous political upheaval and his own isolation. Ai Weiwei created art while facing government surveillance, detention, and censorship in China, using his work to advocate for human rights despite personal risk. Käthe Kollwitz created profound works about war, poverty, and loss in early 20th century Germany, even continuing to create as she lost her son in WWI.

These artists show how creativity can not only survive adversity but can be deepened and refined by it. Their struggles often became integral to their artistic vision rather than obstacles to overcome.

We share this article now in response to simliar doubts and questions rising from artists during this tense political climate. We hear “does art even matter right now?” and “how do I create when all of this is going on?” To that, we (including Monet) would all remind you: art doesn’t only matter now, it matters now more than ever.

It was my first day as the new studio intern at Contemporary Craft and I was filled with both excitement and anxiety when I walked in the front door. I’d never worked in a museum or maker space before, so it was brand new territory for me. I knew that I’d be helping the studio manager maintain their maker spaces but, other than that, I had no idea what to expect. Typically I would’ve let myself become lost in my fears. Instead, I was drawn in by the incredible artwork that greeted me as I entered the gallery space. As I walked around, slowly spending time with each piece of art, I became more grounded in the present moment and my fears melted away.

As the days went by, I quickly fell into a routine in my new role. Along with studio maintenance, I ended up doing quite a bit of administrative work, which I eventually ended up enjoying. I was also learning how to repair and maintain the equipment in the various makers spaces: a metals studio, a wood studio, and a large multi-purpose space. I felt comfortable working with the metals equipment, since metalsmithing was my concentration in my undergraduate program, but I couldn’t say the same for the rest. I learned how to repair kilns, band saws, sewing machines, and more! It was difficult, but little by little I was able to build up my skills and confidence and before I knew it, my summer internship was over. Thankfully, I was hired back on for a one year studio apprenticeship after graduation; it felt like a dream come true!

As the studio apprentice, maintenance still took up the majority of my time, but I was often asked to assist the other museum departments now too. Since the museum was so small, it was common to collaborate across departments; For events or large exhibition installations, it was often all-hands-on-deck. Some of my favorite tasks were installing small exhibitions in the studio’s display cases, installing large artworks in the main gallery, and even inventorying the museum’s permanent collection! There are so many small yet important tasks that go into making a small museum function and it felt amazing to be a part of it.

Another aspect of my work as the studio apprentice was to assist with community outreach programs. These programs varied quite a bit, but some highlights were an after school rag-rug workshop for teens and a month-long summer camp focused on building meaningful skills in the arts. The most memorable outreach program that I got to participate in was actually the one that inspired me to revisit my dream of becoming an art therapist. The program was designed by an art therapist and run by museum volunteers. Every other week the volunteers and I would go to the local women’s shelter and teach the children how to sew small square pillows. When the children were finished sewing, we would ask them to imagine their hopes and dreams for the future, and then draw them onto the pillows. The idea was that they would put them under their actual pillows at night to help them keep their dreams alive. This experience truly showed me the healing power of art and it’s one of the reasons I felt such a strong pull towards the field of art therapy.

Community art spaces (like museums, makers spaces, etc.) are something that I feel fundamentally drawn to. There’s a “healing magic” that happens while creating and viewing art in community that I can’t quite explain with words. So, whether it be through museums, open art therapy studios, or clinical work, I want to help facilitate that magic in my career.

If you’d like to get updates on future content from me, you can follow me on LinkedIn.

I put together a short vlog from my recent visit to the Meadows Museum. It is a mix of videos, photos, and a few off-the-cuff reflections as I moved through the galleries. It’s not a formal tour or an academic breakdown. It’s closer to how I actually experience museums thro…

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I arrived at the Meadows Museum right when it opened, a little earlier than necessary, mostly because I was genuinely excited to finally meet Dr. Galuban in person. The museum was picturesque, perched at the edge of SMU’s campus, emerging from the mature trees like an ornament hanging from the branch of a Christmas tree. I messaged her to let her know I was in the lobby and ready to meet, trying to play it cool while very much not playing it cool.

She told me she’d received special permission for me to attend the Connections Group we had discussed extensively in her interview. I felt moved by the thoughtfulness of it and, after walking away and heading up the stairs into the gallery, I texted my husband to see if he could pick up our youngest from preschool so I could stay. His reply came quickly, enthusiastic and reassuring.

Her invitation landed softly but changed the shape of the morning. With time before the group started, I moved into the galleries, letting myself wander through the museum for the first time. The light felt careful. The museum was quiet in that particular way museums are before they fill, polite, echoing, almost self-conscious.

I started with a photography exhibition, then drifted into the Renaissance galleries, where everything felt steady and unmoved by time or urgency. The rooms felt awake but not yet busy, like they were waiting to see who would show up. Eventually, I found myself standing in front of Picasso’s Still Life in a Landscape (1915). I wasn’t trying to decode it or store it away for later. I was just there, noticing how easy it was to wait when there was something worth looking at.

When it was time for the group, I went down to the conference room and saw Dr. Galuban in her element. I told her I would find a spot to observe and stay out of the way, but she encouraged me to be part of the group.

I took a seat among two elderly couples, and within minutes two women were reminiscing about hanging cloth diapers on the clothesline. When I mentioned that I had also cloth diapered my oldest son, Owen, during the pandemic, the table lit up. From there, the conversation drifted naturally from art therapy to life more broadly. Integrating myself into the group felt easy, intergenerational, and unexpectedly intimate.

Dr. Galuban led a discussion centered on Fátima (1927) by Eduardo Chicharro y Agüera, inviting us to sit with the image of a Moroccan woman with facial tattoos, her body partially veiled by sheer fabric. The group lingered with the painting—naming details, questioning assumptions, letting the image hold more than one meaning at once.

We ended by making tote bags using vinyl cutouts and patterned materials. Simple, tactile, and grounding. It felt less like an “activity” and more like a quiet way of coming back into community after the conversation.

I didn’t leave feeling like I had “seen” the Meadows, but instead experienced it through the people there.

Become a paid subscriber to see the videos and photos I took during my visit!

As the year closes, may the holidays offer moments of reflection, creativity, and connection both inside museums and beyond them. Wishing you a restful and meaningful holiday season.

Minette & Brooke

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IMI Highlights from 2025

• The IMI Podcast launched! Hosted and produced by our COO Brooke Christensen, the podcast has sparked influential conversations about creative wellness and the intersection of therapy and cultural spaces. You can listen on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or stream through the links we send straight from our page.

• Global Collaborations: We’ve deepened partnerships with art therapists, museums, and academic institutions across North America and Europe, co-creating healing-centered museum programs.

• Research and Education: Founder Minette Hand shared groundbreaking work on embedding art therapy in museums at the 2024 AATA Conference while Brooke Christensen shared at the 2025 AATA Conference, laying the foundation for IMI’s future.

Our end of the year podcast (full, unedited interview!) featuring Minette and Brooke will go live December 14th for paid subscribers. If you haven’t please consider a paid subscription to support our work.

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International Museotherapy Initiative by the Numbers

💰 Revenue More than quadrupled!

👥 Subscribers Increased by over 25%

💸 Paid Subscribers Tripled (3x)

🎙️ Substack Ranking Top 100 International Podcasts

Looking Ahead: IMI 2026 Strategic Growth
IMI will focus on:

• Upgrading our media infrastructure to produce more engaging, professional content.

• Expanding international exchanges to co-develop museotherapy pilots and share global best practices.

• Launching new educational resources linking research, policy, and practice.

• Strengthening our public storytelling to elevate museotherapy’s visibility worldwide

Recent Museum-Based Art Therapy Updates From Around the Web

Looking Forward to 2026:

The Museums Association’s annual conference will take place November 2-5, 2026 in England at the Birmingham Repertory Theatre and Library of Birmingham, with an opening reception on November 2nd followed by talks and workshops on November 3-4.

The Nineteenth International Conference on the Inclusive Museum will be held in 2026 with a special focus on the future of museum narratives, though specific dates and location haven’t been announced yet.

Ongoing Program Expansions

While specific 2026 initiatives haven’t been widely announced yet, several key trends are emerging:

Continued Growth Areas:

• More museums are expected to adopt physician-prescribed museum visit programs, following the successful Montreal Museum of Fine Arts model

• Expansion of digital and virtual reality art therapy programs, which gained momentum during the pandemic

• Growing partnerships between museums and healthcare institutions for therapeutic programming

• Increased focus on trauma-informed practices in museum spaces

Research Developments: Museums are continuing to develop relationships with neuroscientists to study what happens in the brain when engaging with art therapeutically. The Montreal Museum of Fine Arts and other institutions are conducting mixed-method studies combining qualitative lived experience research with neuroscientific measurement.

Since specific 2026 programs are still being finalized, check back with the Museums Association website and, of course, the International Museotherapy Initiative newsletter in early 2026 for confirmed programs and dates.

Best wishes for the New Year,

Minette & Brooke

P.S. If you haven’t already, please take a moment to explore our newest addition: The IMI Podcast. In the season, Brooke hosts wonderful interviews with leading museum curators, educators, art therapists, and more. Paid subscribers have access to full, unedited interviews.

If you are in the museum, art therapy, or museotherapy world and you are hiring, feel free to drop a line. If you’re a graduate student or someone looking for a job in the field or want to get involved with IMI, please don’t hesitate to do the same.

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“Playing in the dollhouse.”

That’s how Olivia Turner describes curating an exhibition, arranging artworks in miniature, testing what belongs beside what, and imagining how a visitor might feel moving through that space.

The Curatorial Layer

As a curatorial fellow at the Meadows Museum in Dallas and a PhD candidate in Art History at Florida State University, Olivia Turner approaches her work with both precision and warmth.

Her path wound through art history, education, and even childcare, these experiences shaped how she thinks about the emotional life of museums.

Curators like Olivia make choices that ripple through our encounters with art through the height of a frame, the spacing between works, the tone of a wall label. Each decision shapes the visitor’s experience — and sometimes, their emotions.

When Art Holds Emotion

In our conversation, Olivia reflected on the emotional impact of works like Picasso’s Dream and Lie of Franco and Goya’s Black Paintings.

She spoke about the quiet responsibility curators carry when dealing with trauma, violence, and grief, similarly its the same sensitivity art therapists bring into clinical spaces.

“Every object on display has a pulse — some beat softly, others ache.”

That’s the overlap we keep finding in this series:

curation as care.

education as connection.

therapy as translation.

The Museum as a Third Place

Olivia also described her time at the Nasher Sculpture Center, where she helped create family programs during Free First Saturdays filled with outdoor artmaking sessions filled with laughter, conversation, and rest.

It’s a reminder that museums are more than cultural institutions; they’re community anchors.

When admission is free and art feels accessible, museums become what sociologists call a third place — not home, not work, but somewhere you can simply be.

🎧 Listen to the Full Conversation

This article only scratches the surface of my conversation with Olivia Turner.

Enjoying this episode? In the full interview with Olivia she shares her research on Luisa Roldán, Spain’s first professional female sculptor, who carved sacred figures with such skill that she earned royal commissions — though her name was often hidden behind those of her male patrons. Hearing Olivia talk about her passion for rediscovering Roldán’s legacy feels like watching one woman scholar reach through history to honor another.

We also geek out over the sisterhood our fields share in ideas, her advice for art therapist who want to work in museums, and much more. Click the button below to become a subscriber to unlock this full conversation and the other interviews in this series!

UNLOCK FULL EPISODE

Closing the Series

This episode concludes our three-part series exploring the different collaborations of museum based art therapy work:

• Dr. Carolyn Treadon — When Therapy Walked into the Museum

• Dr. Beatriz Galuban — When Healing and Learning Met in the Museum

• Olivia Turner — When the Gallery Held the Space

Together, these voices remind us that museums can be living ecosystems of empathy — places where art meets care, and care becomes art.

✨ Coming Next Month ✨

As 2025 winds down, we’re taking a step back to reflect on the year that shaped the International Museotherapy Initiative.
In our year-end wrap-up episode, Minette and I will look at where we started, what we’ve learned from our incredible guests, and where we’re heading in 2026.

Think of it as an open studio session: reflective, a little chaotic, and full of gratitude.
You won’t want to miss it.

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Until then, a short share from a most recent visit to the Clyfford Still Museum in Denver, Colorado to see Tell Clyfford I Said ‘Hi’, curated by the children of the Colville Confederated Tribes, Bailey Placzek, and Nicole Cromartie, highlights the perspectives of Colville youth on Still’s depictions of their home, as well as the artist’s abstract works. Read more about this exhibition here.

Warm wishes for November,

Minette & The IMI Team

P.S. If you haven’t already, please take a moment to explore our newest addition: The IMI Podcast. In the season, Brooke hosts wonderful interviews with leading museum curators, educators, art therapists, and more. Paid subscribers have access to full, unedited interviews.

Some Recent Museum-Based Art Therapy Updates From Around the Web:

One thing we missed: Healing Arts Barcelona (October 20–26) was a week-long city-level initiative led by Museu Nacional d’Art de Catalunya and WHO, focusing on arts integration in health to improve physical, mental, and social well-being via community arts programs and research.

The Nasher Museum of Art at Duke University is holding monthly art therapy sessions focused on exploring feelings related to cancer diagnosis and survivorship, led by a licensed art therapist. These 90-minute group sessions are open to patients and caregivers and free of charge, with materials provided.

The British Association of Art Therapists (BAAT) is hosting its 2025 annual conference themed “Art therapy and collaboration” on November 8, online and in-person (sold out). The conference explores collaborative practices in art therapy, including inclusive co-production approaches and sensory-related art therapy modalities. Notable speakers include Claudy Jongstra, Helen Jury, Ali Coles, and Nicki Power.

The Taubman Museum of Art continues its “Happy HeARTs” program, offering accessible, sensory-friendly art therapy activities for individuals with diverse abilities and needs. Upcoming sessions open to the community are scheduled for November 8 and 22, addressing participants aged 10 and under and 10 and up.

The American Folk Art Museum will hold a Gallery Tour for Art Therapists on November 21, providing continuing education and professional engagement in the context of art therapy and museum accessibility.

At the Palmer Museum of Art at Penn State, art therapy community sessions are available November 1, including a session dedicated to healthcare workers.

If you are in the museum, art therapy, or museotherapy world and you are hiring, feel free to drop a line. If you’re a graduate student or someone looking for a job in the field or want to get involved with IMI, please don’t hesitate to do the same.