Aesthetic process and somatic symbolism

Following the thematic explorations of relationality and containment, Rhodes’ use of mixed media intensifies the process of emotional witnessing. Across the exhibition, the artist paints recurring body figurines and faces, often abstracted or partially obscured, highlighting emotional states rather than depicting any literal identities. On several canvases where helplessness or sorrow are suggested, the gesture of covering the face with palms or fingers becomes a dominant visual metaphor. Such somatic portrayal aligns with art therapy perspectives, where the body is seen as a primary source of expression and psychological truths are shared nonverbally (Kossak, 2015). Rhodes’ deliberate use of colour associations seems to communicate emotional hues. The motifs of community and connection are brushed with yellows and bright oranges, hope and joy are often rendered through cooler blue tones, while anxiety and trauma are smudged with browns and blacks. These choices seem intentional yet intuitive, embodying what McNiff (2004) describes as ‘aesthetic moment’, where meaning-making is done through engagement with colours and textures, rather than through conscious interpretation.

Rhodes’ brushstrokes, while appearing spontaneous, carry a rhythm that feels both free yet intentional, mirroring the paradox of containment and release that often defines creative therapeutic processes. The inclusion of written phrases and fragmented words – some of which are legible while others obscured by layers of paint or shadow – invites viewers into a conversation with the unsaid and the half-formed, reflecting the complexities of communication in therapy. Notably, a recurrent bird metaphor threads across most paintings – from a subtle presence in the first canvas to a more elaborate depiction in the final piece. While its precise symbolism remains open to interpretation, I witnessed it as representing the client’s present state of being. As McNiff (2018) reminds us, the value of art lies not in deciphering its fixed meaning but in allowing what it unfolds in real time. In that moment, the bird seemed to carry the weight of both fragility and flight – perhaps the most suitable metaphor for the therapeutic journey itself.

Reflexive engagement and interpretation

This embodied sense of emergence and layered depth carried over as I engaged with the exhibition more personally. Through the intersecting themes painted across, an image arose within me – two intersecting circles, symbolising the worlds of the therapist and the client. Each carries its own narratives, histories, and silences, yet there is an intersubjective shared space where encounters unfold and transformation becomes a possibility. Around these, I envisioned two larger intersecting circles, representing the broader society – its traumas, conflicts, and collective hopes. This image stayed with me throughout the exhibition, resonating with the way Rhodes’ work seems to hold both the personal and the political, within the same visual context.

What lingered in my mind was how art itself became a reflective container and a medium through which the therapist processed the complexities of what is held within the therapy room. I found myself wondering whether the clients whose narratives inspired these works also had the same access to creative rumination, and how embodied art-making can serve as a democratic bridge for both therapist and client to cohabit with shared vulnerabilities. As Levine (2015) reminds us, the arts offer a contemplative space, not for resolution but for allowing the unspoken to find a symbolic life. Rhodes’ series reminded me of the quiet labour of therapists and how the reflective work extends far beyond the session, breathing in our bodies and conscious presence. The uneven ordering of the paintings, the repetition of motifs, and the emotional flux between canvases all felt genuine to the non-linearity of healing.

Conclusion

Viewing Troubled &/ Beyond in person offered an experience that no digital reproduction could replicate. The physicality of Rhodes’ mixed-media work spoke volumes with its rugged layered textures and the almost tactile traces of urgency and calm. It invited an embodied encounter with the art itself. Standing before each canvas, I could imagine the inner work laboured into by the therapist. The art gave permission to blend the anxiety in the hurried strokes with the companionship in the softer marks and smears. Such an encounter underscores the depth of aesthetic attunement, where our sensory and emotional engagement with art opens a field of resonance that exists beyond just words (Kossak, 2015). The gallery space at The Dax Centre, open and warmly lit, further amplified this sense of connection. It allowed room for envisioning mental health complexities with creativity. Spending time amidst these creations felt like a quiet act of solidarity with artists, clients, and therapists alike. The exhibition’s loud yet compassionate message was unmistakable: to give voice and visibility to the intricacies of lived experiences in mental health, to honour rawness, and to remind us that art continues to be one of the most organic ways of saying we are not alone.

In being present with Rhodes’ imagery, I was reminded that art itself can hold and contain what words often cannot – the silent negotiations between helplessness and resilience, distance and intimacy. The exhibition, much like the therapy space, invited me to sit with the ambivalence rather than resolve it. It extended a visual language for empathy – one that honours both the artist’s vulnerability and the viewer’s sense of responsibility to acknowledge, to feel, to reflect, and to remember. Leaving The Dax Centre, I carried with me not answers, but an honest appreciation for how creative arts continue to bridge the personal and the collective, the troubled and the beyond.