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“Art as Courage-Language – On Expressing Fear and Rediscovering the Self”

 

In the realm of mental health, the focus is often on talking. “Talk about it” is a noble and valuable message—but it assumes that people have words for what they feel. In reality, many do not. Where language fails, art can begin.

 

Art is not an escape, but an entrance. Not a way of avoiding, but a way of daring to meet yourself. Art makes internal communication visible—without needing borrowed words or external masks. And yet, despite that power, creating art often feels like a greater hurdle than speaking. Why? Because art demands that we speak from within, using our own symbols, our own language. Not polished, not disguised, not shaped to please. Honest. Bare. Our own.

 

In our society, we have mastered external communication—through speech, behaviour, social codes. But much of that is imitation, camouflage, survival. Art, on the other hand, offers a space where no mask fits, because every mark you make already speaks from within. Art reveals what words often hide.

 

The fear of making art is not a fear of the process itself. It is the fear of truly speaking—without filters, without approval, without any guarantee of being understood. And yet, that confrontation is what heals. In a simple stick figure, a clumsy sketch, a stubborn symbol lies the first spark of courage. Not: “I am afraid,” but: “How do I dare?”

 

Art fosters neuroplasticity—the brain’s capacity to change, adapt, and form new pathways. And so, art also fosters courage. It teaches the brain that change is not dangerous, that expression is possible, that there is space to be yourself without needing perfection.

 

In fear, there is often no real threat—but a lack of language. Suicidality is sometimes nothing more than a desperate attempt to express: “I don’t know how to live.” Art can become a bridge toward that language—a way to say what has no words yet.

 

My motivation is therefore simple: art makes courage possible. Not only for those who suffer, but also for the therapist, the artist, the caregiver. We must learn not only to talk about the mind, but to draw, paint, build and distort—to rediscover a language older than words, and perhaps more honest.

 

Because in the end, we are all bearers of symbols. And maybe that is where our humanity truly resides.