Defining Where Health, Environment, and the Arts Meet

We’ve come to the twentieth entry in the Bamboo Pen. Sebold Communications has been in business for over a decade. This year, with first-rate help from Gallop Web Services, we redesigned our website to make it more responsive and useful to you, our clients and readers.

To mark all three occasions, I’m taking time to define the four interdisciplinary fields we promote through words and programs. They are—as you may have discerned from our tagline and past interviews—environmental health, arts in health, arts in environment, and arts in development.

Like most of my posts to date, this one is evergreen. I’d like it to be a “growing evergreen.” So as experts, feel free to expand the definitions with examples and resources. Once your comments accumulate, I’ll update the article. I may even quote you, if you allow. In the interim, I’d be happy to tweet news of your work.

Environmental Health

Let’s start by defining “environmental health,” the best known of the four. According to the World Health Organization, environmental health

addresses all the physical, chemical, and biological factors external to a person, and all the related factors impacting behaviors. It encompasses the assessment and control of those environmental factors that can potentially affect health. It is targeted toward preventing disease and creating health-supportive environments. This definition excludes behavior not related to environment, as well as behavior related to the social and cultural environment, and genetics.

You can find other definitions of environmental health on the websites of the U.S. National Environmental Health Association, which publishes the Journal of Environmental Health, and the National Institute of Environmental Health Sciences, which funds scientific research.

What Environmental Health Covers

Topics in environmental health include, but certainly aren’t limited to, the environmental causes of cancer and other diseases, the effects of pollution and climate change on human health, animal- and vector-borne diseases, housing and land use, disaster preparedness, nanotechnology, nutrition, and food and water sanitation—where the field arguably began in nineteenth-century England.

Specialties of environmental health include environmental epidemiology, toxicology, exposure science, and newer areas like EcoHealth, which assesses how changes in the Earth’s ecosystems affect human health, and ecopsychology, which covers the relationship between human beings and the natural world. Horticultural therapy and forest bathing are ecopsychological practices.

Further Reading and Future Posts

My interview with pediatrician Robert Zarr falls under ecopsychology—in part. If the subfield is new to you, you may want to start there. Then, sit outside somewhere green to read Biophilia by E.O. Wilson and Voice of the Earth by Theodore Roszak, who coined the term.

To survey recent medical literature on nature’s impact on child health, visit the Children & Nature Network. For a lighter read, check out the blog of the Therapeutic Landscapes Network.

In future posts, I’ll explore infectious disease and climate change; homelessness and water sanitation; environmental health literacy; and related fields, like conservation medicine and occupational health psychology. Nature, including botany, will get its due, too. I tweet about environmental health and the environment regularly.

Arts in Health

“Arts in health” is an umbrella term, not unlike environmental health. Although most people realize that the environment affects our bodies and minds for good or ill, not everyone knows that the arts positively shape our physical and mental health. In fact, scholars have documented their efficacy.

In The Arts, Health and Wellbeing, the Arts Council England defines arts in health as

arts-based activities that aim to improve individual and community health and healthcare delivery, and which enhance the healthcare environment by providing artwork or performances.

The Arts Health Network Canada created a useful infographic of arts in health—an artful definition.

How Arts in Health Works

Specialties of arts in health include individual- and community-oriented visual arts, writing, music, drama, dance/movement, and culinary therapies, as well as healthcare architecture and interior design. You’ll encounter artists from many disciplines, experts in health promotion and communications, and practitioners of arts in conflict and medical humanities, which uses the humanities, social sciences, and the arts to advance healing.

Locally, nationally, and internationally, arts-in-health programs help residents in hospices and long-term care facilities, clients of mental health and rehab programs, and prisoners. Audiences also include school children, disadvantaged communities and individuals, participants in special-needs and wellness programs, refugees and homeless people, medical providers and disaster-response teams, and active and retired military. The field began in veterans’ hospitals in the United States during the Second World War.

Arts in health can result in significant reductions in insomnia, depression, anxiety, pain, post-traumatic stress, hospital stays, medical visits, medication use, and—by extension—healthcare costs. Consumers of arts in health benefit socially. Artists develop their disciplines. Communications improve between patients and caregivers, especially in buildings that feature fountains and artistic signage designed to welcome and calm.

Proof and Upcoming Articles

There are joint university programs in fine arts and public health. Medical schools encourage students to study the humanities. You can even come up with your own quasi arts-in-health program to help you write at work.

Simply attending arts programs improves health and wellbeing. It encourages us to celebrate, strengthen, and preserve our own and others’ cultures—to feel pride when surrounded by struggle and loss. At an exhibit I helped curate, I saw two artists embrace after their presentations: one had seen the towers fall on 9/11; the other had endured years of conflict in her home country, Iraq. Both found personal healing through painting in response to Iraqi poetry about war and resilience. For another example of how the arts alleviate trauma, see my post on Lisa Garlock, an art therapist who uses arpilleras (story quilts) to mend individuals and communities.

In 2017, the newly constituted National Organization for Arts in Health released a white paper that offers references, resources, recommendations, and detailed descriptions and examples of the creative art therapies (above), expressive art therapy (which uses more than one art at a time), and the settings for arts in health.

In an upcoming post, I’ll focus on arts in health in Syria, where I lived long before the war. Later, I may examine how arts in diplomacy, visionary or outsider art, improv theater, and arts in education overlap with arts in health.

Arts in Environment

Google (or Bing) “arts in the environment,” and you won’t find it. Instead, you’ll find “environmental art,” which encompasses only the visual arts. What about the others? They have evoked landscapes and addressed environmental catastrophe just as often as sculpture and painting. Get on Twitter, and every day, you’ll see writing, drama, dance, music, and more on nature and climate change. Where, then, is the umbrella term—the equivalent of “arts in health”?

Let’s start to answer the question by defining environmental art, from ancient cave to modern junk art. Then, helped by the accepted definitions of environmental health and arts in health, we can define arts in environment.

Based partly on a 2010 greenmuseum.org post by Sam Bower, Wikipedia defines environmental art as

a range of artistic practices encompassing both historical approaches to nature in art and more recent ecological and politically motivated types of works.

So ancestors’ scribblings of bison on walls and more recent paintings of buffalo-filled landscapes constitute historical approaches to nature in art. Those who practice “art in nature,” a subfield of environmental art, might create ethereal constructions of twigs and flowers, with or without an environmental message. So-called land, or earth, artists move, dig into, or otherwise alter landscapes, sometimes permanently and harmfully.

EcoArt, Branch of Environmental Art

For the purposes of defining arts in environment, we are most interested in what visual artists call “ecological art,” or “EcoArt,” which began in the 1960s—around the same time as land art—to advocate the Earth’s, not the ego’s, good. Among ecological artists would be sculptors who address habitat destruction by fashioning bison or buffalo out of natural materials found on the prairie. In the last fifteen years, EcoArt has surged because of concern about climate change.

EcoArtNetwork offers the following definition:

Ecological Art is an art practice that embraces an ethic of social justice in both its content and form/materials. EcoArt is created to inspire caring and respect, stimulate dialogue, and encourage the long-term flourishing of the social and natural environments in which we live. It commonly manifests as socially engaged, activist, community-based restorative or interventionist art.

Proposed Definition of Arts in Environment

In view of the preceding definitions, I propose that

arts in environment uses the visual arts, architecture, music, dance, creative writing, drama, culinary and other arts to call attention to environmental issues and promote the Earth’s health, including the well-being of humans and other species.

Found poetry, found music, slow food, acoustic ecology, and documentary film may find a way into arts in environment. Feel free to amend the definition or suggest other nonvisual arts in environment.

In future posts, I may survey subfields of EcoArt, such as restorative art, sustainable art, recycled art, and green art and architecture. I may interview practitioners of ecovention, urban acupuncture, and social sculpture. For an example of restorative art, see my article on Patterson Clark.

Related visual arts like found art, junk/trash art, BioArt, and SciArt may prove intriguing. We may dig into traditional crafts, landscape painting, art in nature, even land and crop art.

Learn and Question More

For now, begin by reading Land and Environmental Art (1988) by Jeffrey Kastner and Brian Wallis. For newer resources and links, visit EcoArtNetwork and Leonardo, which focuses on arts, technology, and the sciences, including the environment.

So far, there’s little proof of EcoArt’s power to educate or directly benefit the environment. I found one study of environmental art, climate change, and carbon offsets. In 2015, Scientific American published a piece on climate-change data and environmental art. But I can’t find any analyses of the effectiveness of nonvisual arts on raising environmental awareness or instigating positive, lasting change—even locally. Stay tuned. Send me your thoughts—or research.

Arts in Development

More established than arts in environment is “arts in development.” Although the field makes use of many artistic disciplines (like literature and theater) to advance health, education, environment, social justice, you-name-it, the “arts” are often handmade traditional crafts. At best, finished products bear “fair trade” and “organic” labels.

Outside of major cities, like Washington, DC, “development” doesn’t imply international, and, sadly, “international,” especially in “international development” circles, doesn’t always include disadvantaged communities in so-called developed countries. In the Bamboo Pen, development as in fundraising for a business or nonprofit doesn’t interest us. Nor do we care about a living thing’s maturation (apart from the four fields of the blog).

Fair Trade, Best of Arts in Economic Development

Instead, our focus is on crafts and agricultural goods, like artisanal honey and soap, used in local, national, and international “economic development.” Arts in development, done well, benefits producers financially, if not culturally and socially, and leads to improvements in their families’ health and education. Ideally, arts in development projects are also fair trade: from design to sale, they favor craftspeople and farmers over middlemen and are environmentally sustainable.

When it comes to definitions, the word “economic” is key to distinguishing arts in development from the other three fields we’ve defined. Fair-trade arts (and agriculture) in economic development is really what we’re after.

The World Fair Trade Organization (WFTO) offers the following definition:

Fair Trade is a trading partnership, based on dialogue, transparency and respect, that seeks greater equity in international trade. It contributes to sustainable development by offering better trading conditions to, and securing the rights of, marginalized producers and workers—especially in the [global] South.

Fair Trade organizations have a clear commitment to Fair Trade as the principal core of their mission. They, backed by consumers, are engaged actively in supporting producers, awareness raising and in campaigning for changes in the rules and practice of conventional international trade.

Gender equity, capacity building, and healthy working conditions are among the ten principles of Fair Trade the WFTO advocates.

You can find other definitions on the websites of U.S. organizations like the Fair Trade Federation  and TransFair USA.

History and Distinctions

In the United States, fair trade started in 1946 when the Mennonite Central Committee founded Ten Thousand Villages, which sells crafts (and now foodstuffs) in stores across the country. Fair trade became a movement against neo-imperialism in the 1960s, when makers wanted fair and equal access to markets. Crafts became less attractive to consumers in the 1980s, so fair traders moved into agriculture. Concerns about the environment arose, and certification and labeling regimes began. See the Fair Trade Resource Network for a very nice timeline.

Not all arts, or crafts, in development organizations are certified in fair trade, even though they meet many of the qualifications. You can learn about the pioneering work of Aid to Artisans in an earlier post. GoodWeave, another U.S. nongovernmental organization, works to eliminate child labor in carpet production. Human rights and education are their primary concerns.

To survey fair-trade arts in development, consult The Impact of Fair Trade on Social and Economic Development: A Review. To learn more about arts in development generally, read Art, Culture and International Development: Humanizing Social Transformation, a book published in 2015.

I’ll blog on fair-trade (and nearly certifiable) organizations and individual artisans. Future posts may feature Ten Thousand Villages and Serrv, which market jewelry made by silversmiths in Mexico and recycled-paper baskets woven by entrepreneurs in Vietnam—among many other edible and nonedible artisanal products. On my list are the Women’s Bean Project, where American homeless women assemble soup mixes, and Al Mokha, which sells coffee from war-torn Yemen. Get inspired yourself by volunteering for a fair-trade group near you!

Conclusion

By now, you’re probably amazed, if not overwhelmed, by the many places where health, environment, and the arts meet. You also may have noticed considerable overlap between environmental health, arts in health, arts in environment, and arts in development. On the same table, you may have found food sanitation, culinary therapy, organic slow food, and fair-trade plates. Perhaps you’ve seen a skit on Zika and climate change. If you have, share it with us as an example of arts in environmental health.

Maybe you’re wondering what would happen if we reversed the words in the names of the four interdisciplinary fields. What would “health in arts” encompass? A diseased organ in a painting? A real heartbeat in a piece of music?

[head-spinning semantic overload … &%zap^#! … actually seeing angels on pinhead]

***

In layout and content, the Bamboo Pen has come a long way since Setting Themes.

Based on readers’ responses to my first twenty posts (sadly, I lost my social shares in the redesign), I’ve decided to concentrate on writing reviews of events, including exhibits, and features about people who—for the greater good—devote their time to mixing and matching health, environment, and the arts. Feel free to send me their names.

For now, let my post be a gift to those of you—scientists, artists, health workers—who are too busy discovering, creating, and healing to categorize your work intentionally or worry about definitions. Caring is what all four interdisciplinary fields (and the broad areas of health, environment, and the arts) have most in common.

As for me, I’m tuckered out from defining what you do. I think I’ve earned a green art–wrapped, mood-enhancing, artisanal, socially responsible, and environmentally sustainable chocolate bar. Every bit of one—or two!

If you need me for writing, editing, or programs, I’ll be at my desk. I might be interviewing a “wrapper,” urrrr … “rapper” who just composed a song on solar cookers.

[cooked]

Writer’s Block? Practice Arts

We all suffer from publish-or-perish these days. We’re often anxious, traumatized, blocked. We can’t write a word and for good reason: There are millions of blogs for billions of readers. Posts, e-books, white papers, and barely edited, barely professional popup journals pop up overnight, full of stuff. Maybe, we think, reading just one more thing will relax us enough to write just one more thing to add to the noise. We sit nervously in front of our laptops. Avalanches of paper magazines, newspapers, and reports can’t smother smartphones that croak, bark, or boing until we read messages from who knows whom thousands of miles away. Every onslaught of words requires at least passing attention—doesn’t it? We respond. Again, we compete for milliseconds of attention and talk, text, or tweet past each other, not with each other. We’re angry. We can’t find our notes; we’ve lost our train of thought. The blank screen remains blank. A Great White Nothing shines in front of our eyes.

Forget all the colorful books that tempt us into the next room!

Everyday expository writing is like Edwardian service for words. It’s hard work, nothing pretty. It’s no place for verses in fancy frills. Although press releases—the chauffeurs—have to prance and strut, well-presented pages in butlers’ blacks and whites satisfy their masters most often. We, the employers of words, want the assignment done, not great art.

But in the commotion, while blocked, we confuse passable, even creative copywriting or academic writing with artistic writing. After all, when we read poetry and fiction, we encounter writing as art. Writing, we know, can be no less art than “art,” music, dance, and drama.

So we become more fearful. Nothing we type sounds good enough or makes sense. We need a solution—and fast.

Solution to Writer’s Block

Could drawing a picture on Saturday help us put words to work come Monday? Could practicing a long-neglected art for no more than an hour once a week loosen our fingertips?  I think so, and I’ve developed an arts discipline, my own arts-in-health or healing program, that helps me far more than reaching for potato chips—or my smartphone. It may unblock you, too. You may also find your self, or selves, embarking on an internal, revealing adventure that will cost little or no money.  You won’t even have to buy an e-book!

Just read on …

First, this is about doing, or practicing, the arts. It’s not about consuming them. So, no, you may not go to that lecture on Easter egg painting in—I dunno—Revolutionary War Antarctica.  Much as you may find inspiration in arts and cultural programming, right now, it’s a distraction, a means of procrastination. This is not an intellectual, cognitive pursuit. Cogitate, watch, read, and you’ll veg. You can’t unblock vegged in place.

Second, get rid of expectations. We ain’t talkin’ high art. You might stink at it. This is not about instant fame, fast cash, or even sharing. Do you exercise to become a pro? Pray to become a saint? I hope not. Can we all get our poetry published in The New Yorker? Compose a hit song?  Sadly, no. But we can rid ourselves of writer’s block (which even the famous endure). If, along the way, we discover some truth about ourselves, have some fun, well, jolly. Those are definitely secondary aims of the method herein.

Third, what I’m proposing isn’t therapy. I’m not an art therapist, dance therapist, drama therapist, poetry therapist, culinary arts therapist (a new one to be sure), or expressive arts therapist. Our arts histories and feelings are important, no doubt. A blocked sculptor, a blocked chef could live within you. But right now, we want to scrape only the tops of our psyches—alone. We have writing assignments to do!

So what is the discipline?  How do you start?

Practice Arts

Develop your own curriculum. Which arts appeal to your true self, dare I say, the child within?  List them. I chose drawing, voice/singing, movement/dance, and poetry. Devote up to one hour a day, one day a week to each one. If you pass into the zone, and the hours fly, that’s grand. But don’t pay for a class. Odds are, the how-tos will block you even more.

Instead, make a pile (not an avalanche) to stand for each art you’ve chosen. Fill them with colored pencils or DVDs from your previous attempts to follow your inner Renoir or Barishnikov. Then put them in order, according to the schedule you’ve developed. You can move them around if, say, dance day interferes too much with visits to the gym. Consider designing tent cards for your stacks. If you have a large house, devote a corner or room to each art.

Now for the worksheets …  Get ready to loosen …

On each of three sheets, list your arts and give yourself no more than three lines to write on. There’s no time to waste in unblocking your work-for-hire writing—and exploring long-lost or never-explored arts. Later, you can write more in your journal. Now, you need to get dirty, make noise, bump into furniture, do weird things with words.  Oh, never mind …

Call the first sheet First Steps. For each art, scribble down no more than two activities that excite you. No to-do lists here! We’re interested in process, not goals—except for removing writer’s block. Here are two examples from my First Steps worksheet:

Drawing—Play around with different drawing materials by making abstract designs on different papers. Make simple mandalas.

Voice/Singing—Practice how to breathe from the diaphragm. Do simple voice exercises with a CD.

After a week of “classes,” label a second sheet Interrelatedness. Have you noticed any relationships between the arts you’ve chosen? Here is one example from my Interrelatedness worksheet:

Voice/Singing and Movement/Dance and Poetry—There are many forms of breathing. Breathing for singing differs from breathing for yoga. Yoga breathing and Pilates breathing are not the same. Shallow, strained breathing results in poor singing, poor speaking, poor movement, poor dance. Appropriate breathing improves them. Singing and movement elevate mood, inspire thought. Better thinking leads to better copywriting, better poetry.

At the end of the second week, when feeling less blocked—maybe even inspired—take out a third piece of paper and title it Revelations. What have you learned about the arts you’ve chosen? Have they revealed a new direction you’d like to take in your writing, in life? Here are several things I realized:

  • An arts habit fills me with gratitude and quiet joy.
  • Dabbling in the arts, if not excelling in them, is good for my mood and work, including writing.
  • If you promote the arts, as I do, you need to practice them.
  • “Doing,” not just “consuming,” the arts is a necessity. Like exercise and nutrition, the arts are intrinsic to good health.
  • Practicing a few arts regularly can reveal new directions in work and life. It can help you prioritize.

When you’ve completed the process once, start again with a second-steps worksheet. Quick, before you get stuck perfecting the first steps!  Complete the cycle at least twice over a couple of months. How many writing assignments have you finished? Have they come more easily since you started having fun with the arts? Do you prefer one of the arts you’ve chosen? Does one unblock you better than another? Do you want to make one of them into a hobby?

As for me, I plan to continue exploring all four of “my” arts. They and spending time in nature, which I’ll explore in subsequent posts, have helped me hone my calling.

Now … you’ll excuse me as I dance over to my phone, which is singing Pavaroti under my latest mandala and and first poem in sestina. Wow! A new customer wants me to write a brochure. She wants something like the one I wrote for her competitor. The copy flowed really well. Hmm …  Wonder why?

Art Therapist, Arpilleras Heal Trauma

If Lisa Garlock were to sew an arpillera (story quilt) of her life, it would necessarily be busy. In the upper left, she might start with a scene from her youth overseas, when she wanted to be a scientist. Still on the top half, she might incorporate a print illustrating her education as an artist at the Rochester Institute of Technology and a small painting of her graduate work in art therapy at Nazareth College. In the center, she might place a mandala to represent her recovery from years of osteoarthritis in her hands, which hampered her artistically as it strengthened her spiritually. And in the lower panel, bordered by her vibrant handmade beads, she might show herself leading George Washington University art therapy students to India, where in Chennai, they guide women in telling their tales of gender-based violence using arpilleras. After she finished, Garlock might tack a pocket onto the back to hold a written narrative.

Through arpilleras, Garlock practices art therapy, a field of arts in health. But she wasn’t always interested in mental health. To fund her life as a young artist, she taught printmaking, waitressed, and worked in a gallery. Then, she took a job as an employment counselor to youth and adults. She loved counseling but missed art. One day, she attended a workshop on reducing recidivism in prisoners. On her way home, art therapy popped into her mind.

“The self-focus and almost isolation of being an artist wasn’t enough for me and often isn’t enough for other art therapists,” Garlock said. “I asked,  what can I do socially with art? Also, as an artist I always felt bad about using so many different materials. But art therapists need to know a lot of media. Art and therapy were a perfect match for me.”

Art Therapy and Arpilleras

For the rest of us, art and therapy can be scary. We might not have drawn or gotten knee-deep in glitter or finger paint since we were children. And most of us don’t take time or have money for analysis, self-driven or professionally led. We think we have to withhold every emotion, conquer all tragedy, and produce only perfect art. But we might find art therapy intriguing and fabric surprisingly friendly. It’s tactile and forgiving. Sewing can be soothing. Women, who so often make their families’ clothes, find great solace in quilting. When working in groups, they connect. They share stories of poverty, war, illness, and gender-based violence. Their stress lifts. The fabric holds their tears—to paraphrase Chilean artist Roberta Bacic, as Garlock did.

Arpillera means burlap in Spanish. To their creators and art therapists, arpilleras de adorno are colorful appliqués that heal and endure. They were born of the first September 11, the one in Chile in 1973, when the military overthrew the government and declared martial law. Dissenters, mostly men, were questioned, and many were imprisoned and tortured. Others simply vanished. The Catholic Church intervened to help women produce arpilleras to generate income. In their story quilts, they combined paid work, political resistance, and their own version of talk therapy. To memorialize the “disappeared,” they stitched in three-dimensional figures of loved ones dressed in bits of left-behind clothing. Through the women’s artistry, word spread beyond Chile of the horrors of the dictatorship.

Arpilleras, as art or art therapy, flourish throughout Latin America and in Bosnia, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Laos, Northern Ireland, the United States, and Zimbabwe. The AIDS Memorial Quilt is but one example. But they didn’t enter Garlock’s world until a few years ago, even though she had minored in textile arts. The Latin American crafts gallery, where she had worked years before, exhibited Chilean arpilleras and Guatemalan traditional clothing, which decades of conflict (1960–1996) had virtually wiped out. She became fascinated by the narrative quilts of African American women of Gee’s Bend and Esther Krinitz, a seamstress who wanted her children to touch her personal history forty years after she had escaped from the Nazis. Garlock admired the patterns, colors, and the women’s resiliency, how—together or alone—they had sewn up their lives.

Arpilleras in Prison

She went back to prison. She held her first arpilleras group for women in transition. She confessed she found her task frustrating: “Most had been told they shouldn’t dwell on the bad things, but if you haven’t processed trauma, then it’s going to be hard to stay focused on the positive and move forward,” Garlock said.

They needed to find jobs and housing, stay clean, and reconnect with family. Most had no sewing background and were unfamiliar with art therapy. They could hardly see the connection between art and their health as returning citizens. Some joined the group to learn sewing; others were severely traumatized. Many were unaware of traumatic experiences in their pasts. One stitched quietly, unengaged, and couldn’t finish her arpillera by the time the group disbanded. Another spoke only with Garlock. Drawing in pastels was enough to satisfy one woman, while another put great care into creating the border of her arpillera but couldn’t decide what to put inside. Yet another, who couldn’t physically sew, used sticky tape to connect fabric images to the background of her quilt. She managed to tell a complete story— some of it fantasy, some of it real—remained in the present, and enjoyed the process.

“Art does intimidate a lot of people. It’s a different language, so it takes time to teach the skills. There can be a lot of storytelling going on in a group but not a lot of sewing,” Garlock said.

Rachel Cohen, Garlock’s colleague in Switzerland and founder of Common Threads, introduced mindfulness practices and arpilleras to trained artists and therapists in Ecuador. They, in turn, worked with women who had survived gender-based violence in a frontier town. Although they came from a culture of sewing, most had never worked with fabric. Three or four women in the two twelve-week programs recorded trauma; the others stitched idyllic scenes. Recently, the women exhibited their work in Quito. Cohen and Garlock want to document the results quantitatively.

Current Endeavors, Future Plans

For four summers, Garlock has supervised George Washington University art therapy students on two-week trips to India, where they have worked in schools, hospitals, and a shelter. Last season, Garlock’s students collected bags of beautiful fabric scraps from local tailors. At first, the women in the shelter didn’t want to use the castoffs. But by the last day, they preferred them. An Indian art therapist now uses recycled material in her arpilleras therapy.

This year, Garlock plans to offer a class on sewing arpilleras to her art therapy students at George Washington, and in September in Geneva, she and Cohen hope to hold the first international conference on narrative textiles.

When asked to cite her most heart-warming experiences, Garlock mentioned her work with students and the invitation to show her arpillera, School Field Trip (see photo, above), at the Parque de la Memoria in Buenos Aires. It tells Silvia’s story. One day, leading up to the Argentine Dirty War (1976–1983), Silvia went on a school field trip. As she and her classmates returned to the bus, riot police descended on nearby protestors. Things got ugly. Silvia went into exile, alone, and later became an architect, a nun, and then a social worker. In Garlock’s quilt, wind tears off tiny garments from a clothesline. They disappear, just as so many people did. The little banner is a ribbon from a rally held years later to commemorate the lost. It bears the name of one victim, whose life nobody—not even an artist and art therapist like Garlock—can weave back together.