The Power of Art in the World that Feels Overwhelming
- Oct 9, 2025
- 3 min read
By Diana Stelin
In my recent TEDx talk, I shared something deeply personal: how art saved me at pivotal moments in my life. As a teenager facing bullying and the culture shock of immigrating from Moldova, painting gave me a way to center myself. It offered me a compass at a time when it would have been all too easy to numb the pain with drugs or alcohol. Later, as a young adult navigating loss and miscarriage, it was once again creativity that gave me a place to process, to release, and to find a way forward.
That’s the quiet truth about art. It is never just about making something beautiful—it’s about survival. In a world that feels noisy and fractured, where it’s hard to find our own moral compass, creativity helps us come back to ourselves. Most importantly, it gives us catharsis. There are emotions too complex, too raw, or too layered for language. Anger, grief, even joy—they often resist being neatly articulated. Art becomes a vessel for those emotions, allowing them to move through us instead of calcifying inside.
And yet, very few of us give ourselves the opportunity to play. We rush from obligation to obligation, rarely making space to tune into the fragile inner child within us. That child has so much to say if we let them speak. In both private and corporate workshops, I’ve seen how quickly people become absorbed when given that permission. One participant told me she was so engrossed in her painting that she didn’t even feel her coworkers were there. For that brief window of time, it was just her and the canvas, and the freedom to express what couldn’t be put into words.
That level of immersion turns on the other side of the brain. It gives us a rare chance to reset. When people focus on an exercise so far out of their comfort zone—especially those who don’t see themselves as “creative”—something profound happens. The brain begins to stretch and adapt, strengthening its neuroplasticity. It becomes easier to handle change, to problem-solve in new ways, to grow. A police officer who joined one of my retreats confided afterward, “I haven’t felt this relaxed in years.” That’s what happens when emotions we carry in silence finally find a channel.
I’ve witnessed this transformation over and over with clients. Private sessions often start with hesitation: “I haven’t painted since elementary school.” But within minutes, participants rediscover that they have a voice beyond language, one that speaks in color, shape, and rhythm. The act of creating becomes a nervous system reset, a way to discharge what has been held too long.
The same is true in corporate settings. I’ve worked with executives under immense pressure—tight deadlines, constant pivots, high stakes. At first, many approach the session as if it’s just another “team-building exercise.” But each person works on their own, completely individual piece. Then, during the critique circle, something extraordinary happens: people begin to see how their paintings mirror their personalities. A bold streak of red becomes a story of risk-taking. A carefully balanced composition reveals a deep need for order amidst chaos. The sharing creates empathy and connection, but even more, it provides a release—a way for unspoken emotions to surface in a safe and supported space.
I don’t experience blocks in my own practice because the act itself is never about perfection or outcome. It is about showing up, about dialogue with the canvas, about letting what’s inside me spill outward. Every painting becomes a record of resilience. Each layer, whether scraped away or built up, echoes the way we live through change—sometimes resisting, sometimes surrendering, always evolving.
The darkness of our world is not going away. But we are not powerless against it. Art gives us a way to hold it without being consumed. It gives us catharsis when words fail. It helps us reconnect with our inner compass and with the child inside who still remembers how to play. And in that play, in that release, we rediscover both healing and strength.
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