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ICONOCLAST Secrets
The following was published
in Polish in Gos'ciniec Sztuki: Majazyn artystyczno-literacki,
Number 1/6 (2002):
Think,
Feel, React:
Some Thoughts on Psychoanalysis and Improvisation
Julie
Joslyn
Musical
improvisation and the practice of psychoanalysis both require the development
of a distinctive self-state in the practitioner. As a practicing psychoanalyst
and performing and recording musician I can certainly testify to the unique
and rather bizarre "way of being" demanded by both. There are many parallels.
In both arenas
you need to be acutely intellectually aware of what is happening on all
levels. For instance in a musical context one must be aware of rhythm,
harmony, melody, volume, tone production, thematic development and technical
issues relating to your instrument, PA or recording equipment. An awareness
of your audience is also a factor. In the psychoanalytic context you might
consider the symbolic and imagistic meaning of the patient's communications,
how these relate to their history, their family and to their current relationships
as well as what they are trying to say and explore about the therapeutic
relationship. One also must be aware of how the patient's expression relates
to the "state of their self" and to their self-experience. With all this
going on, you must be able to structure and frame the experience. At times
this process doesnšt feel much like an intellectual one or that one is
"thinking" at all. It is an elusive and different form of thinking--perhaps
a kind of "informed reacting." It is this ability to create structure
out of a range of wildly chaotic experiences and perceptions that differentiates
artistic production from psychotic process.
Critical
to the psychoanalytic process and to improvisation is the ability to be
emotionally open, receptive and responsive to the complexity of what is
going on within yourself and with your patients or your musical partners.
This awareness spans all realms of consciousness. One has to be able to
abandon oneself to the experience completely without losing ones sense
of self or of order. Add to this the absolute necessity for emotional
honesty and authenticity at all times. It is a complicated and multidimensional
state of being--like being aware in a recording studio of the full twenty-four
tracks simultaneously without sacrificing your awareness of any one.
I will now
turn to a theoretical concept, which I developed with my colleague, Zoe
Arlene Avstreih. This concept, which we refer to as "synchrony," is pivotal
to psychoanalytic work as well as the creative process. Following are
excerpts from a scholarly paper we co-authored called "On Synchrony,"
which first appeared in The Arts in Psychotherapy, Vol. 16 (Pergamon
Press, 1989).
On
Synchrony (Excerpts)
As
he took his lonely stand to the right of the rest of the team,
Jackson was aware only of Pitts, the opposing cornerback, waiting
for him on the other side of the line, and his friend Joe Marco,
calling signals over to his lefty. It wasnšt that he heard the
signals. Marco's words came to him, rather, as a physical connection.
. . . And though Marco was fifteen or twenty yards behind them
now, his every movement was necessary to theirs. Jackson knew
exactly what Marco was doing. Somehow, without turning his head
around to look, he could "see" the quarterback rolling out to
the right behind his interference and starting to fake a pass.
(Leonard,
1974,p.32)
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This seemingly
ordinary occurrence in a game of football reveals an extraordinary aspect
of human relatedness. What one notices in this example is the acute level
of awareness as well as the simultaneity of interaction and gesture. Often
one associates this degree of attunement with archaic developmental phases
characterized by symbiotic fusion. The type of rapport described above,
however, is obviously not symptomatic of symbiotic relatedness but rather
is characteristic of another way of relating that we would like to refer
to as synchrony.
Synchrony
implies a harmonious and simultaneous responsiveness without merger or
loss of boundaries or self/object differentiation. The concept of synchrony
has been utilized for many years in the field of nonverbal research and
has a specific meaning within that context. Davis (1983), a forerunner
in the field of nonverbal communication, defines synchrony as "simultaneous
changes in direction or initiations of movements that occur exactly together"
(p.70). Perhaps we should make it clear at this point that we are using
the term "synchrony" as clearly differentiated from the Jungian concept
of "synchronicity." "As its etymology shows, this term [synchronicity]
has something to do with time, to be more accurate, with a kind of simultaneity.
Instead of simultaneity we could also use the concept of a meaningful
coincidence of two or more events, where something other than the
probability of chance is involved" (Jung, 1952/1969, p.520).
Fraenkel
(1983) and Kendon (1974), among others, have already begun to explore
the connections between synchronous behavior in movement and its significance
in social interaction and in the development of empathy. It has been discovered
that coordination of movement, mutual cueing, and a kind of "shared rhythmicity,"
in particular, are fundamental to sustaining rapport in a social encounter.
"Where interactional synchrony is occurring it is found that the boundaries
of the movement waves of the listener coincide with the boundaries of
the movement waves in the speaker" (Kendon, p.152). It is important to
notice that Kendon refers to the "coincidence of boundaries" and not the
merging or annihilation of boundaries experienced in symbiotic fusion
(Mahler, 1968; Mahler, Pine & Bergman, 1975). The recognition of this
differentiation ha far reaching implications for both psychoanalytic theory
and treatment as well as theories relating to the creative process.
Synchrony:
The Creative Process
The
rapport within the group was almost telepathic. . .Philly Joe
Jones . . . once remarked that his and Miles' minds were so attuned
that he could go "way out beyond easily countable time in a drum
solo and come right back in with Miles because each knew
where the other was. (Carr, 1982, p.72)
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The rapport
within Miles Davis' band as described above by the drummer illustrates
once again the phenomenon of synchrony--this time in the creative sphere.
The notion of synchrony is intrinsic to the creative proces and perhaps
more adequately explains aspects of this process previously relegated
to regression or defense. Krisš (1952) idea of "regression in the service
of the ego" was certainly a major contribution to the psychoanalytic understanding
of creativity, but unfortunately it seems to reflect a general attitude
toward the creative process that permeates the psychoanalytic literature,
regardless of theoretical orientation. For example Sterba (1939/1946)
describes how the primitive rhythmic characteristic of most music allows
for a fantasized regressive reunion with the symbiotic mother and with
"the entire cosmos." Both he and Kohut (1957) describe the function of
music as a compromise formation allowing the disguised gratification of
infantile sexuality.
.
. .in the barely perceived rhythms in the accompaniment of a sweet
tune, or in the rhythm contained in the aesthetic abstractions
of a Bach fugue . . . we can experience a catharsis of primitive
sexual tensions under cover, because our conscious attention is
directed toward a tune or a thematic variation and diverted from
the rhythmic phenomenon. (Kohut, 1957, p.391)
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Noy (1968)
also described the development of musical ability along regressive lines,
and musical experiences are viewed as a recreation of early symbiotic
oneness with mother. In addition, he sees musical organizing ability as
an attempt at mastery, defensive in nature, in the face of an inadequately
functioning stimulus barrier. "It may be assumed, therefore, that specific
musical abilities are part of coping mechanisms which the ego is forced
to develop as a defense for mastering oversensitivity" (p.341).
Neiderland
(1976) sees certain characteristics in all creative individuals: the mastering
through creative expression of early trauma; overwhelming feelings of
pain, either psychic or physical; feelings of bodily ugliness, sensitivity,
disability or illness; feelings of loneliness; and object loss and grief.
Perhaps the most important point that Neiderland stresses is the existence
in creative people of incomplete self-representations that are striving
for completion through the creative work. Though all these factors may
be present in artistic individuals, they do not fully account for or explain
the unique capacity for creative expression.
We would
like to point out that compensatory structures (Kohut, 1977,1984) as well
as defensive aspects of the ego obviously play a role in creativity development
as they do in all aspects of self-development. What we would like to clarify,
however, is that the literature to date has stressed that creativity stems
from various pathological sources. Whether it be the defensive handling
of id impulses, a reaction to a defective stimulus barrier, regression
to an early symbiotic state, or a reparative attempt to mend basic defects
in the self, all these explanations have a common assumption that creativity
originated in pathology. Noy (1969a,b) and Roland (1972) began to set
the stage for further exploration of this bias as they challenged the
"hierarchical" attitude of theories pertaining to the primary process,
dreams, and art.
Neiderland
(1976), in his analytic work with artistic individuals, noted a phenomenon
that he did not fully understand but that he was able to clearly differentiate
from pathological ego states:
The
artist's capacity to preserve the intense experience of wonderment
is a phenomenon not sufficiently explored. It may be related to
a partial blurring and diffusion of ego boundaries or, at least,
an attenuation in the demarcation between the self and nonself
. . . though frequent and intense in the artist, these experiences
do not necessarily involve those difficulties in reality testing
and self/nonself differentiation encountered in psychotic patients.
(p.192)
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Neiderland
assumed the creative process involved some kind of peculiar disturbances
in ego-boundary functioning. He was probably observing in these patients
a highly developed capacity for synchrony. Though an innate potential,
this capacity seems to be highly evolved in the creative individual.
Throughout
our years of clinical experience with artistic patients as well as in
our own creative work we have consistently noticed that the working through
of conflicts and self-issues seems to enhance the capacity for artistic
expression. Many patients fear that the reparation of the self and conflict
resolution resulting from the analytic process will destroy both the need
for and the source of their creativity. In other words, since the prevalent
mythology links creativity with pathology, it stands to reason that as
one progresses in analysis one will lose the ability to create. This is
simply not true, as witnessed by a number of therapists.
As a
clinician I have never seen a creative individual who did not have
serious apparently all-pervasive and disturbing conflicts. Nor have
I seen in these individuals a lessening of creative productivity as
a result of analytic therapy. (Neiderland, 1976, p.189) |
Obviously something else is at work here. The successful analysis that
allows for the continued evolution and differentiation of the self most
often results in an increase and refinement of creative expression. It
is our contention that through the analysis the capacity for synchrony
is liberated. It is this increased capacity for synchronous interaction
that accounts for an increase in creativity. Artists' descriptions of
their own self-perceptions seem to illustrate from an internal perspective
that in fact the process is not characterized by regressive merging, but
rather by a heightened awareness of both self and other. This highly creative
state has been vividly described by the well-known jazz musician, Jane
Ira Bloom. In playing jazz, particularly for improvising musicians, the
expression "to lock in" or "locking in" is used to describe this feeling
of synchrony:
In the
middle of a solo when everything is locked in, youšre concentrating
so hard--our concentration is like ecstasy. Your mind is on playing.
Whatever it is youšre doing flows freely. . . From the moment I came
in with the first C Sharp there was nothing I couldnšt play that wouldnšt
be right--this was going to be a great cut--I could feel it! At those
times all the focus is on your own instrument and what youšre playing.
(Jane Ira Bloom, personal communication, November 5,1984)
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It is clear from this description that, even in the midst of an intense
creative experience, the self is certainly not "lost" nor are its boundaries
obliterated. To the contrary, there actually seems to be an intensified
awareness of self.
In conclusion,
we believe that synchrony is a powerful and fundamental force in both
the creative process and in the therapeutic relationship. It is the cornerstone
of empathy and essential for the development of relatedness. It is perhaps
the single strongest factor in the healing potential of treatment and
in creative communication.
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