I believe EMDR is as much of an art as it is a science. There are countless ways to show the art in EMDR from reprocessing to creative resources to dreams and more. The art in EMDR often shows up when there is flow. It is beautiful to watch miracles take place before my eyes.
But what about finding EMDR in art?
Billie Eilish recently released a new album: Hit Me Hard and Soft. The song, L’amour de Ma Vie immediately connected with my soul. The beat, the lyrics, the vocals: the flow. The singer begins with well wishes and a confession. So many questions were asked that the singer was clearly struggling with. Possible negative cognitions could be: I did something wrong, it was all my fault, I can’t trust my judgement. Then a realization of the gaslighting that was experienced. Then back to guilt for lying. He wasn’t the love of her life. But then, wait a minute, he moved on immediately. He lied too. Distressing body sensations were experienced, but it was all associated to this poor relationship-not the lie, and it’s not all her fault. And he moved on. He moved on. He moved on. He moved on. The adaptive shift begins to occur with the coda, a slight distortion of the voice, but then the tempo is raised, the beat is happy, her voice is clear, and she’s joyful that’s it’s over now. Not just the relationship but the grief, the guilt, the maladaptive material shifted and stored adaptively. Phase 5 achieved.
The transformation that is in this song resonates with me. I love glimpses of that transformational process, and artists are so bravely vulnerable to share that with the world. There are so many works of art that portray a transformational process in addition to music: movies, paintings, dance, poetry and more.
Beneath the clinical structure of the EMDR standard protocol lies something even deeper: a creative process, a form of living art. It’s almost like sessions become less of a treatment and more like a canvas with painted expressive strokes, or like jazz musicians responding to one another’s notes. We do not lead, but follow the rhythm of the client’s healing. We want to hold the AIP model with reverence rather than control. It invites spontaneity, insight and grace.
Each EMDR session begins with an invisible canvas. What emerges are not merely memories and emotions, but impressions—symbols, body sensations, beliefs. The mind splashes colors across the internal world. And like artists, we do not impose interpretation but hold space for the image to reveal itself.
Artists speak of sculpting not as building, but removing. Michelangelo said he freed the angel from the marble. Likewise, in EMDR, we remove the blocking beliefs: “I don’t matter” or “I’m not good enough.” We help clients chip away at the hardened layers of shame, defense, and distortion until the authentic self begins to shine.
As therapists we are witness-artists. We do not hold brushes. We hold presence. There is great hilt in this. We must remain in flow, resist the urge to fix, and trust the client’s inner genius. True art, like true healing, happens when we step out of the way.
Healing is art. So let us find the art in EMDR. Let us celebrate not only what we know, but what we feel. Not only what we structure, but what we surrender to. For in that surrender, healing becomes more than possible—it becomes inevitable.
