INTERVIEW WITH HAMIDAH OTHEMAN

What does Art Therapy mean to you?

To me, art therapy is a way of making meaning. It’s not just about resolving something—it’s about being in relationship with the parts of ourselves and our stories that are often quiet or unseen. I discovered art therapy during a time when I was seeking more honest ways of being with myself and with others. I was holding grief, change, and uncertainty in my own life, and I remember feeling drawn to the idea of creative expression as a container for those emotions. It felt like a form of care that could honour complexity without needing to rush to clarity.

When did you first realize that you wanted to be an art therapist? Was it your first career choice?  

It wasn’t my first career choice, but as someone with a creative background, I found myself naturally drawn to the field. I’ve always been interested in how people make sense of their lives and how art can offer another way of exploring that. While working with individuals living with mental illness, I noticed how verbal approaches alone often didn’t meet their needs. There were things that couldn’t be easily put into words, and that made space for creative therapies to come in differently. Art therapy offered another kind of language; one that could meet people where they were, without forcing clarity or resolution. That experience stayed with me and shaped my decision to pursue this path.

How did you find out about The Red Pencil (Singapore)?  

I first came across The Red Pencil (Singapore) in 2014 when I was working at the Singapore International Foundation. I encountered the organisation again in 2015 when I went for the LASALLE graduation art show. Their name came up again, and it stayed with me. At the time, I didn’t know I would eventually pursue art therapy, but those early encounters planted a seed that continued to grow over the years.

What is the greatest joy of being an art therapist? 

The greatest joy is witnessing those quiet, internal shifts that happen during or after the artmaking process. Sometimes, a client begins to question a belief they have held about themselves for years—something limiting or inherited—and the artwork becomes a mirror that gently invites them to see things differently. They might not even verbalise it right away, but you can feel the shift in how they relate to the image or how they speak about themselves after. Being part of that process, just holding space while they come to those insights on their own, is incredibly impactful. In the moment, it may feel like you are doing very little, just being present. But over time, you realise that presence allows something deep and transformative to unfold. That is what stays with me.

“It’s not just about resolving something—it’s about being in relationship with the parts of ourselves and our stories that are often quiet or unseen."

Can you share with us more about the greatest moment or most unforgettable experience you have had thus far working with The Red Pencil (Singapore)? 

I recently concluded an art therapy group for beneficiaries of The Red Pencil (Singapore), and it was one of the most moving experiences I have had. Over the course of the sessions, I witnessed the families gradually open up through artmaking—using the process to express what was difficult to say in words, to make sense of their lives, and to visualise their hopes and goals as a family. The way the group used symbols, colours, and narratives to reflect on their shared experiences was powerful. It wasn’t just about individual expression, but about coming together to support each other and build resilience as a unit. Being able to hold space for that process and see those shifts take shape through the artwork was deeply meaningful to me.

What are some of the challenges you have experienced as an art therapist, and what do you think are some common misconceptions about art therapy?   

One of the ongoing challenges is the lack of structured positions for art therapists in formal settings. Because of this, many practitioners move into private practice, which often limits access to those who can afford it. This skews the profile of who benefits from art therapy. That is why nonprofit organisations like The Red Pencil (Singapore) are so important. They make art therapy accessible to a broader and more diverse group of individuals, while also helping to build public understanding of its value.

Another challenge is generating buy-in. Art therapy is not always immediately recognised as a valid or effective form of support, especially in spaces where talk therapy is the default. It takes time and continued advocacy to help others understand how the creative process can support emotional expression, insight, and growth.

A common misconception is that a person needs to be good at art to benefit from art therapy. In reality, it is not about creating a perfect or polished artwork. Art therapy is centred on the process, not the outcome. As long as someone is willing to explore, they can engage in it—regardless of artistic skill.

Art therapy is also generally less intrusive. It allows individuals to express themselves in ways that feel safer or more intuitive. As a result, insight or resolution may take longer to emerge. But this also means that the process is led by the client. It honours their pace, and that sense of agency can create shifts that are deep and meaningful.

" When I find myself overwhelmed or unsure, returning to a simple creative process helps me slow down and reconnect.

This work continues to teach me that expression does not always need to be verbal to be meaningful, and that sometimes the most powerful shifts come from staying with what feels unclear for a little longer. “

From your experience, how do you think art therapy impacted the lives of your clients? 

Like with most forms of therapy, I think the hope is that clients eventually don’t return—not because the connection wasn’t meaningful, but because they’ve found what they needed and are able to carry on with their lives. Of course, someone not coming back could also mean the work didn’t land, and I hold space for that possibility too.

That said, some of the most touching moments have come through real-time feedback. Just engaging with the art materials often brings up memories or curiosities—things that have been sitting quietly for a long time. One thing I hear a lot is, “I haven’t done art since primary or secondary school,” followed by, “I failed art.” It is hard to hear, because it is something they’ve carried for decades. Imagine being told at ten or fifteen that you weren’t good at something, and still believing that at sixty.

To be able to offer a different kind of experience, one where there is no right or wrong, no grade, just exploration, feels like such a privilege. Watching someone give themselves permission to engage with the process, and seeing that internal shift take place, is always a reminder of why this work matters. Even if it is just one small change in how they relate to themselves, it is meaningful.