So, can art heal? Can it help us get through something difficult? Can it help us deal with emotions we don’t yet have words for?

I asked these same questions to three artists. What came back wasn’t theory or polished statements. It was a lived experience. Stories of anxiety and loss, of identity and survival, of moments when making something became a way to breathe again. A way to feel power when the world felt out of control. A way to meet yourself where language falls short.

Below, three artists — Fatspatrol, Ohida Khandakar, and Lana Khayat — answer the same questions differently, each in their own way, yet guided by a shared understanding. They speak about how art has held them, challenged them, and helped them heal.

— Do you think art can heal people?

— Absolutely. I don’t know if it’s so much about healing as it is about art helping you access layers of your consciousness that you don’t always have access to.

It can also help you articulate and express emotions, feelings, grief, trauma, joy, dreams, and imagination. I think art can take you on an inward journey, where you can explore yourself more deeply, ask questions, and find answers that bring peace and understanding to your life.

Beyond that, I think art helps you build a relationship with yourself. And that, in itself, is a very important part of healing as well as personal evolution and growth.

— What place does art take in your life today?

— What place does art not take in my life today? I think that at different stages of my life, art has represented different things and played different roles.

When I was a child, art was more about play, imagination, and curiosity. Then, when I was a teenager, art really became a way for me to start exploring my identity. That was also when I first began experiencing anxiety and depression — when I was first diagnosed and first medicated. Art became the space where I could be alone with myself and think out loud in a really honest way.

I feel like it is sometimes hard for people to be truly sincere in their thoughts when we use verbal language. Whereas the language that comes naturally from our minds, our unconscious, and our self-expression can be more honest and more true.

At university, I studied cultural theory and later earned my master’s in sociology. That is when I started to explore what art means to society, what it means to the world — how it can help people, how it can humanise, and how it has a place in civilisation and human development, as well as cultural production and all these humanitarian aspects that are really important.

Then I started working in the arts, and that is when it became my professional life — my financial life. That is when my work became more commercial. I also studied art therapy for a while because I wanted to make sure that my commercial, money-based life wasn’t the only way I was limiting art. I have always believed that art has a much larger function and that it is integral to our existence as humans.

I studied art therapy to understand how it works and how it can help people, especially those who have experienced trauma. I have also done outreach work with children, particularly those living in difficult circumstances or who have experienced hardship. Through that work, I have seen firsthand how art can mobilise, soothe, and provide escape — which is incredibly important when your life and circumstances are really tough.

Now, art belongs in every sector of my life. It is how I make sense of the world. It is my existential journey. It is my purpose — my raison d’être. It is my professional life, and it is also what I show the world of myself. It is also my protection from the world at times. It is how I deal with my mental health on a day-to-day basis.

Art is where my truth lives. Drawing is like breathing. It is how I survive the world when the world is really tough to be in.

— Was there a moment in your life when art really supported you or helped you get through something difficult?

— Primarily, I would say my teenage years. That is when art’s function in my life really changed — from something I studied at school and did as a child into something that truly helped me cope with living. It helped me in my teenage years when I was diagnosed with anxiety. I also began experiencing depression around that time, and I was put on medication when I was 14.

I used to lock myself in my bedroom for hours, sometimes days, listening to really sad music and feeling unable to cope with the lack of control over what was happening in my environment. My parents were getting divorced, and art gave me power when I felt powerless.

Then, about ten years ago, I had just come out of a really messy, abusive relationship. I was in a very dark place and struggling deeply to move forward. I went to Jordan and spent a couple of days painting with children in an MSF refugee hospital. Making art with them and seeing how it could give them even a brief moment of relief changed something in me.

I came back with so much more perspective on the world. It shifted how I see the world, how I move through it, and how I think about what I do and why it matters.

Other moments in my life where art has saved me happen all the time. I have struggled with my identity my whole life. I was born and raised here. I am originally from India, but I have never lived there. I have a Canadian passport and have lived in Canada for twelve years. I have never fully belonged to one culture or identity.

Art is where my freedom is. Art is where my power is. It is where I get to tell you who I am — not you telling me who I should be. It works in almost magical ways across every part of my life.

— Has creating art ever helped you deal with emotions you didn’t know how to explain?

— When I was studying art therapy, we did a lot of exercises that showed us just how cathartic art can be. I thought these were just drawing exercises, but then suddenly, piece by piece, something would shift, and I would just explode with emotion.

Art has always been like my best friend, and suddenly it became this thing that made me incredibly vulnerable. That was really unexpected. There were a few moments during that course when I just burst into tears without expecting it, simply because of the drawing prompts we were working with.

So I don’t know if it was helping me deal with emotions, or if it was actually provoking emotions I didn’t even know how to explain. I remember thinking, I don’t know where this is coming from. I have done so much therapeutic work in my life, and I would naively say that I thought I understood most of the depths of my unconscious, which is, of course, a foolish thing to say.

We never really know what is buried in the unconscious or in the many layers of the subconscious. And art has a particular way of taking you to places you didn’t know existed — places you didn’t even know how to access.

— Has your art changed as you have changed as a person? In what way?

— It absolutely has. I was actually recently mapping my journey through art and how it parallels the chapters of my life and personal evolution. When I was younger, coming out of being an art student and dealing with a lot of anxiety, I used to do what I called the Automatic Syndrome. It was very stream-of-consciousness — abstract, doodle-based work — and very much about process. It was me trying to gain some control over the chaos I was experiencing internally, which I couldn’t control externally.

Then there were about seven years of birds. I was drawing birds during that time because I had just come out of an abusive relationship and was trying to find my power again. It was about picking myself up and learning how to fly again.

Then we went into lockdown, and that’s when I started doing the Humans. That body of work was a journey into identity — into deciding how I wanted to represent myself, and into deconstructing and rejecting the ways society tries to define us.

From there, I moved into the body of work I now call The World Out There. I am in a place where I know who I am much better, and I feel strong in my convictions. But my struggle now is negotiating my boundaries with the outside world — whether that is politics, capitalism, or society in general — and how its structures affect how we feel every day.

So The World Out There is really about figuring out how to have autonomy in a shared space, so to speak.

I always say to people: if you really want to know who I am and how I work, you just need to look at my drawings. They have changed alongside my personality. I am more playful these days, with more humour, and that comes through in the work from time to time. It’s also more imaginative — I think my inner child is doing a lot more of the drawing these days.

Another thing I have observed about my work is that I have always been a mark-maker. I tend to work in lines — drawing lines and creating networks of them. What changes is how those lines are controlled, and that usually reflects how I am feeling.

Sometimes I make very, very clean lines. Other times, the lines are much freer — with loose strokes, charcoal, or ink. And then there are moments when I’m almost obsessed with clean lines.

I have noticed that when I am less anxious, I actually make more chaotic work because I allow myself to be freer. When I am more anxious, I tend to make very controlled, clean work. I think having control over the lines helps me feel like I have control over my anxiety, my fears, and the things that are stressing me out.

— Do you think art can heal people in some way?

— I strongly believe in it. Art is a medium through which one can express personal stories, fears, desires, and freedoms in a creative and honest way. The process of making art often becomes meditative; it offers space for reflection, silence, and emotional release.

Through this process, art can help heal inner conflicts and unresolved emotions. At times, it works almost therapeutically, creating a sense of calm and grounding. Art allows people to reconnect with themselves and find freedom in thought and imagination, even in difficult circumstances.

— What place does art take in your life today?

— Art occupies a very important place in my life. Coming from a rural village in India, art once felt like a distant and sophisticated dream, something not meant for people like us. However, after completing my art education and continuing my practice, I realised that art is for everyone who wants to see the world in a slightly non-traditional way. Art is free; it is a medium of expression where anyone can articulate their thoughts, emotions, and ideas.

As an artist, my work engages with personal encounters, marginalised rural voices, women’s acts of resistance, decolonial methodologies, and non-linear narratives across social structures. Art gives me the freedom to expand these ideas and share them with the world from multiple perspectives. It allows me to question, reflect, and imagine alternative realities.

— Was there a moment in your life when art really supported you or helped you get through something difficult?

— My art practice functions like a daily ritual. Whenever this ritual is disrupted, it can create emotional difficulty. One such moment was during the COVID-19 pandemic, when exhibitions, galleries, museums, and art spaces were closed. During that time, I felt intense paranoia, as if I was losing my freedom. My daily rhythm was broken, and it felt like we were all trapped within invisible concrete walls.

Gradually, I learned how to continue my practice within the limited space of my home. While staying in my village, I began a long-term project with my uncle to create alternative museum narratives that challenge traditional ways of representing objects and artifacts. Through this process, I rebuilt my mental and emotional energy, and art once again became my foundation force.

— Has creating art ever helped you deal with emotions you didn’t know how to explain?

— Yes, absolutely. Creating art has helped me deeply, especially growing up in a small village in India, where personal freedom, particularly fundamental rights, can be limited sometimes. When you are experiencing grief, trauma, or internal conflict, and you lack the language or space to express these emotions openly, art becomes a powerful tool.

Through my art practice, I found a way to express emotions, resist societal norms, and articulate experiences that were otherwise silenced. Art allowed me to transform pain and resistance into visual language, giving form to emotions that could not be explained through words alone.

— Has your art changed as you have changed as a person? In what way?

— Art did not change me as a person, but it profoundly transformed my philosophy and my way of seeing the world. Through art, our understanding of reality is shaped by how we perceive politics, society, history, and lived experience. As I continue practising art, I gain deeper awareness of contemporary social conditions and power structures. Art has taught me to look at the world through multiple lenses, to question dominant narratives, and to understand complexity with sensitivity. In this way, art has helped me grow intellectually and emotionally, allowing me to engage with the world more consciously and critically.

— Do you think art can heal people in some way?

— Yes. I don’t think art fixes things or erases pain, but it gives pain somewhere to go. Sometimes healing is simply being seen, even by yourself. Art creates a quiet space where something heavy can exist without being judged or rushed, and that alone can be healing.

— What place does art take in your life today?

— Art is not something I do in my life. It is my life. It is how I process the world, how I stay grounded, how I make sense of everything that feels too big or too silent. When I am not making, I feel disconnected from myself.

— Was there a moment in your life when art really supported you or helped you get through something difficult? Could you tell me about that moment?

— There were moments when words completely failed me. Times of loss, fear, and deep uncertainty when I couldn’t explain what I was feeling to anyone, not even to myself. Painting became the only place where I didn’t need to explain. I could just show up and let my hands speak. That act alone kept me moving forward.

— Has creating art ever helped you deal with emotions you didn’t know how to explain?

— All the time. Most of what I make comes from emotions I don’t have language for. The thread, the repetition, the slow labour of stitching and painting allow those feelings to surface safely. I don’t try to name them. I let them exist through the work.

— Has your art changed as you have changed as a person? In what way?

— Completely. My work has become slower, more intentional, more honest. I used to care more about the surface. Now I care about structure, about what holds things together. As I have grown, my art has become less about control and more about trust, about allowing fragility to be visible.