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Showing posts with label Ceramic Read. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ceramic Read. Show all posts

Friday, August 31, 2018

Neuroscience Could Explain Why Pottery Is Good for Depression








The therapeutic potential of pottery for depression is increasingly being recognized by the mental health community. But how and why does it work? From the effort-driven reward circuit theory that extolls the benefits of manual labor to theories focusing on the biological impact of self-expression, researchers are looking for answers. What ultimately matters, however, is that people are getting better, which is why Bridges to Recovery integrates pottery in depression treatment.


We are living at the pinnacle of psychiatric discovery and innovation, a time in which the landscape of pharmacological therapy is broader than ever and biological psychiatry is opening up new frontiers in mental health treatment. We are harnessing the power of technology to integrate therapies in new and revolutionary ways and disseminating cutting-edge research to popular audiences in a way never before possible.
And, yet, even in this time of extraordinary progress, manypeople living with depression are finding relief in an ancient practice, something that many of us have already done in one form or another, even if only in grade school: pottery.



The Effort-Driven Reward Circuit


For Louisa Kemps, pottery is an integral part of staying well through the cold and dark Midwestern winters that usually zap her of her energy. Running her hands over the clay, giving it form, feeling it come to life—the process gives her a sense of calmness, joy, and discovery. As one potter notes:
Using a lump of moist clay, you put it on the potter’s wheel and you shape it into your very own creation. As the wheel spins and the clay begins to form, both your mind and body are synergized with your surroundings and with the universe. It is here where you can find the therapeutic benefits of pottery.
For many of us, these benefits make sense on an instinctive level: pottery takes you out of your routine, gives you something to master, something to contemplate. It becomes a meditation of sorts. But Kemps wanted to learn more—why is pottery good for depression on a neurological level? For answers, she turned to Dr. Kelly Lambert.
Dr. Lambert is a neuroscientist fascinated by the subject of behavior-induced neuroplasticity—in other words, how what we do impacts the way our brains function—and she believes that humans are innately wired for particular kinds of behaviors. By “tracking brain activation during different activities,” she “identified a network of geographically connected brain regions that appears to strongly influence well-being when activated by physical labor.” This network forms what Lambert refers to as an effort-driven reward circuit which includes a plethora of brain regions, each involved in processes as diverse as emotion, movement, problem-solving, and higher reasoning. Kemps writes:
In our contemporary age, when it’s possible to Tweet one’s deepest thoughts while waiting two minutes for dinner to warm in the microwave, this circuitry—encompassing a vast amount of ‘brain real estate’—isn’t often called on to function in coordination and communication, as it seems evolutionarily designed to do. But when we activate our own effort-driven reward circuitry, it squirts a cocktail of feel-good neurotransmitters, including dopamine, endorphins, and serotonin.
Participating in sustained demanding and intricate physical activity engages the effort-driven reward circuit, providing meaningful relief from depression on a neurochemical level and reminding the brain that we can exercise control even in challenging environments. As we move away from both paid and private manual labor, we must consciously seek out opportunities to participate in these activities in which our brains are wired to find pleasure and equilibrium. Pottery may be a particularly valuable activity due to the involvement of dexterity; as Lambert herself notes in a 2005 study, “Considering the amount of brain area devoted to the sensitivity and movement of the hands, it is likely that behavior maximizing the use of the hands may be the most engaging.”

The Biological Impact of Self-Expression


Lambert is not alone in her assertion that deliberate manual activity such as artistic production and crafting is good for our mental well-being. In a study published in Art Therapy earlier this year, researchers recruited 39 men and women aged 18-59 and measured their cortisol levels before and after 45-minutes of self-directed artistic activities, including modeling clay. Cortisol levels are an important indicator of stress, and people with depression often show elevated cortisol levels, which experts believe can both be caused by and contribute to distress as well as having detrimental effects on general health.
The results revealed that cortisol levels decreased in 75% of participants after engaging in artistic production. Although the exact cause of the reduction was beyond the scope of the paper, researchers offer a different theory than Lambert does to explain the phenomenon: self-expression. “The findings are certainly consistent with the idea that self-expression can reduce stress and improve health,” says James W. Pennebaker, PhD, professor of psychology at the University of Texas at Austin. According to study lead author Girija Kaimal, the reduction in cortisol levels may be explained in part by the way art helps us externalize and process internal events. “It helps us express things that we don’t often have words for but are deeply felt and experienced. Second, it helps us communicate to others this inner state, and when you communicate, you can build relationships. You are really communicating ‘This is who I am and where I am.’”

Integrating Pottery in Depression Treatment


There is no doubt that researchers will continue to try to explain why exactly pottery helps depression. But in the end, the precise reasons may be largely irrelevant to those practitioners who find relief in the process of molding clay; what’s important is the inner tranquility it instills, regardless of how it happens.
At Bridges to Recovery, we believe in offering our clients every opportunity nourish their well-being and opening doors to healing that go beyond purely clinical care. This is why we offer a dedicated pottery classin which you are invited to engage your body and your mind in the production of decorative and utilitarian objects within a supportive, safe space. For people struggling with depression, this class can provide the springboard for newfound confidence, self-expression, self-discovery, and creativity, augmentpsychotherapeutic and pharmacological therapies, and contribute to a holistic treatment experience that gives you the room to flourish. By incorporating mindfulness techniques and group discussion, the class becomes a truly unique healing tool you can use to move toward a richer, more fulfilling, and more joyful life.
Bridges to Recovery offers comprehensive residential treatment for people struggling with depression as well as other mental health disorders, substance use disorders, and eating disorders.Contact us to learn more about our innovative program and how we can help you or your loved one start the journey toward wellness.
Image Source: Pexels user Regiane Tosatti

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Tuesday, January 9, 2018

The Clay Will Tell You How You Are


BY 
JANE GROSS (@JANEGROSS), COLUMNIST

My fourth ceramics class began and ended calamitously, despite high expectations and a building confidence.
Working at the wheel, where I’d handily “thrown” a pot on my first try weeks before, my task was to wedge the clay to remove air and inconsistency, knead it into balls the size of oranges, slam them one at a time on the bull’s-eye of the wheel, and then hit the accelerator.
This first step — centering the clay — is much harder than it sounds, requiring stillness and concentration from the potter. Even if the clay is properly positioned when the wheel is stationary, a challenging task in itself, the flattened ball of clay can easily begin a wild wobble once the wheel begins its counter-clockwise spin.
The foot pedal, not used properly, adds to the problem. You need to reach it, without looking down, then apply exactly the right pressure. The brake and the accelerator are at opposite ends of the same pedal. Stomp your heel on the brake instead of your toe on the accelerator and the wheel screeches to a halt. Make the same mistake in reverse, accelerating instead of breaking when trying to slow the wheel down, and you’re driving 80 mph in a 45 mph zone.
On this night, neither hands nor feet would obey me. For two hours, the wild wobble at my wheel went from bad to worse until the clay became a projectile — flying once, twice, three times off the wheel, breaking apart and lodging in unreachable places in the splash pan. The catch basin filled with ruined clay and dirty water fit only for the recycle bin.

(Stephen Kallao / Flickr / Some Rights Reserved)

As my exasperation mounted, along with embarrassment that my classmates and teacher were watching, the clay took charge of me, not the other way around. Pressing the mound down beneath my palms, squeezing it up from the sides, opening the top with my fingers and then widening that opening, were distant memories from the early class. My hands were not mindfully guiding the clay but trying to force it to do my bidding. My feet didn’t seem attached to the rest of my body. Something I had done rather intuitively two weeks ago was no longer part of my muscle memory.
The flying wheel not only launched the clay into the splash pan, which would take an hour to clean at the end of class, but into the lap of the person to my left and the shoulder of the person to my right. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” I mumbled, fighting back tears.
One teacher offered me wine (“No, thank you”). He urged me to take a walk (I did), have a glass of water (I found the fountain), and, most importantly of all, try to breathe. He adjusted my hands by cradling them in his own. He bent to move the pedal that had skidded across the floor so my foot could reach it. He eased my flailing leg back where it belonged.
The other teacher, good-humoredly, told me everyone had bad days and she wasn’t surprised that mine was today as Mercury was in retrograde, a time when life can go haywire, according to astrologers.
I don’t put any stock in astrology. I find “What’s your sign?” one of the most foolish questions in the world. I was still comforted — even after I got home and checked Google, only to find the most recent retrograde period was September 19 to October 9. My pottery mishap occurred on October 12. Oops.
“So what?” I decided. I’d rather be under the influence of the planets than responsible for myself.
Even twitching, blushing, and fighting the urge to flee the classroom, I still learned one precious lesson. “The clay will tell you how you are,” the teacher said, even if the message is that you’re in a very bad place.

(THINK Global School / Flickr / Some Rights Reserved)

The previous classes — making pinch pots, scoring and attaching coils, working at the rambunctious wheel — had begun with me centered, and then centered me even further.
Were these two hours fun like those other classes? Nope. Did I risk getting clay all over my iPhone by taking proud pictures? No, as I’d made nothing and the only thing to photograph was my corner of the room, slathered in wayward clay. Still, this new adventure has already succeeded beyond my wildest expectations.
I wanted to get out of my head and into my body, to silence the jabbering “monkey mind” that Buddhists warn make one unsettled, restless, confused. Swimming has always done that for me by counting laps: “One, one, one. Two, two, two. Three, three, three…” to crowd out thinking. Ceramics could quiet me, too, or send an instant signal that I was in a bad place, that I needed to slow myself down, breathe, control the clay, and let the wheel do its work.
Like a balancing pose in yoga, ceramics provides a perfect feedback loop: exit your body and enter your busy mind, and you will likely teeter and fall. Or, in this case, try to bully the clay with strength, not stillness, and it turns into a guided missile rather than a bowl.
The saving grace of this last class was that it nudged me in this direction of learning. It provided welcome calm, however belated, not at the wheel but at the sink. There, long after the others had gone, I was still washing the splash pan and a dozen tools I had used that were now unrecognizable under the gobs of clay.
As hot water ran over my hands, and I squeezed sponge after sponge until one was clean enough to scrub my work area, my breathing slowed and my shoulders unclenched and moved away from my ears.
The teacher’s voice followed me out the door:
“The more you get aggravated, the more you get aggravated.”



Source is On Being. Link below. 
I suggest going to the link and reading the comments/discussion.
Many folks contribute their thoughts about clay. 





Monday, January 28, 2013

A Natural History of The Senses, Touch Chapter

The Touch chapter is required reading for my ART 226 course, 3D Materials and Concepts, a pre-requisite for ART 315 Ceramic Sculpture. 




A NATURAL HISTORY OF THE SENSES


New York Times Bestseller


A Natural History of the Senses is a vibrant celebration of our ability to smell, taste, hear, touch, and see. Poet, pilot, naturalist, journalist, essayist, and explorer, Diane Ackerman weaves together scientific fact with lore, history, and voluptuous description. The resulting work is a startling and enchanting account of how human beings experience and savor the world.

It asks and answers such questions as: How do perfumers know which scents allure? Why does music move us? How did kissing on the mouth begin? What is our craving for chocolate? It illuminates the phenomenon of pheromones and looks into the question of whether they control us. Incorporated in its superb reporting and splendid prose are fascinating facts: Humans have about 10,000 taste buds, cows 25,000.  What are they tasting, and what are we missing? It probes such everyday mysteries as why leaves turn color in the fall and why we see them in color; and what it is that causes lovers to feel delight when they touch.

A Natural History of the Senses is at once an ingenuous exploration of the physical processes underlying our perceptions and an eloquent ode to life  a rare combination of science and poetry.  

Author's Website:

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Being Touched Through Touch

Neuroscientific research provides increasing evidence of the intimate relationship between physiological and psychological dimensions of human experience. The integration of body awareness into psychotherapy through a focus on sensorimotor processes is increasingly becoming best practice in trauma therapy. So far the arts therapies have given little attention to the role of touch in this context. Touch is one of the fundamental human experiences: to know loving or unwanted touch, the traumatic rupture of boundaries and their repair. Touch is the basis for secure attachment, linked to earliest body memories, to the ability to handle the world, to sexuality and injury. The use of the hands as a tool of perception is known as haptic perception. Clay is a familiar art therapy material which features tactile expression and experiences. When hands touch clay in a therapeutic setting, exteroceptors and interoceptors become naturally stimulated, and every movement of the hands provides instant feedback to the brain. Haptic perception allows non-verbal access to psychological and sensorimotor processes thwarted by trauma. This article reviews Trauma Healing at the Clay Field® as a sensorimotor art therapy approach in trauma recovery.

Author information

Cornelia Elbrecht

Biographical details
Cornelia Elbrecht graduated with an MA in Art Ed, trained in Gestalt Therapy, and in various arts and body therapies in Germany, she underwent a ten year Jungian Analysis, and is currently enrolled to study Somatic Experiencing. She has worked as a registered art therapist for the past 35 years in Germany and Australia. She is Director of the School for Initiatic Art Therapy in Victoria, Australia and teaches internationally. She has published two books on sensorimotor approaches to art therapy, The Transformation Journey (2006) and Trauma Healing at the Clayfield (2012). Email: 

Liz R. Antcliff

Liz Antcliff holds a Bachelor of Sc. (Psychology) and a MA Counselling and has studied various arts therapies at postgraduate level. She is currently studying Somatic Experiencing with SE Australia. She has more than 30 years of experience in human services in the private and community health and social services sector. Liz is the Director of Heartspace Artspace & Counselling, a private psychotherapy practice in Queensland Australia and teaches the Initiatic Art Therapy (Queensland) program. Email: 
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