Art – Julia Fry – Psychotherapist, Neurodivergence Coach, Writer, Poet, Artist.

The Inner Critic Hides a Wounded Child

I am so very grateful to Julia Cameron, writer of The Artist’s Way. In that book she taught me to give space to the inner critic by writing down what it says and then turn each phrase around.

My Heart Sings (2020)
Collage, colour pencils
20 x 14 cm
Julia Fry

I have many inner critics and I’m grateful to all of them for protecting me in the ways they knew how, even though those ways are no longer useful. It’s amazing to me when I become aware of one of them. Their patterns are so automatic and it’s easy to believe the bullshit they spout.

Their job is to protect hurt parts of me and I see these parts as wounded inner children. They bubble up to the surface when they’re ready to be seen and loved, and to finally process what had to be frozen way back when. When this happens, they bring feelings that feel really fucking hard to hold. Then the critic piles on with shame and all the usual crap it heaps on top.

I had this happen for me recently. It can feel like losing grasp on reality – all the feelings of panic and ‘badness’ coming in waves, not related to any event in the current moment.

The next day, I gave space to the feelings in my journal. A torrent of beliefs I’d made up about myself as a child poured out. Thanks to the many times I’ve gone through The Artist’s Way process, I turned them around.

Here are some of them:

No one actually likes or loves us because that’s impossible

A lot of people love us very much.

We’re too ugly and big and noisy and imperfect

We’re beautiful and just the right size, always. It’s okay that sometimes we’re noisy, we’re also quiet too. We’re perfect just as we are. We’re not like your sister, thank goodness; she’s her wonderful self. We’re us. And that is perfect.

I’m not important any more

I’m as important as anyone is.

I’m under the radar

I’m seen with love by people who see me.

I’m excess baggage

I have the right amount of baggage and I am beautiful baggage. If I am excess then the plane isn’t right for me.

I’m ugly

I’m beautiful.

I’m unwanted

I’m so wanted by by so many people and Gaia and guides. So many reasons for wanting me, not least because of the unique expression of love that I am. You’d want me because of my flavour of loving and shining my light. All of us together make a beautiful sight.

I’m useless

I’m useful, without trying to be, through the ways of being that flow through me.

Obviously, there are reasons why this kicked off now: I’ve just started rebirthing breathwork with an incredibly loving practitioner, my partner is deeply loving, I hold my clients with loving, exquisite attention, which also affects my nervous system, I’m putting myself out there in the socials, writing and sharing my offerings. Then there’s the recent traumatic brush with the medical model with the advent of my ADHD assessment. Also, Christmas – but that’s for another post, perhaps.

For me, turning those inner‑critic phrases around feels like creative alchemy — and you might find your own version of that magic.

If you’d like somewhere to explore your inner landscape in your own way, I’d love to hold a space for that. What we do together unfolds from what you bring. I offer a free 20–30 minute initial chat if you’d like to see how it feels.

You’re welcome to book one here:

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I Saw the Crescent Moon

La Luna (2011), paper, white emulsion, tippex, acrylic, plastic stars and wool

Last week I saw the crescent moon and it looked like art made by human hand, which made me recall my attempt at making a crescent moon many moons ago. On finding the blog post from 2011, I felt glee to see it! It was a playful experience and I want to share it with you!

I’m developing a special relationship with the moon and I really enjoy connecting with her. I say ‘her’ because I feel the presence to be feminine. Maybe that’s because I project my femininity onto her. Who knows? Who cares?

I’m looking forward to celebrating the next full moon, maybe with a fire ceremony, or maybe quietly, writing a piece of poetry. As we wax towards that, I hope you enjoy my crescent moon. Here’s the original text I wrote to accompany it in 2011:

The Three Muses set their weekly artistic challenge: “the moon”. It ties in with one of my current projects: telling the story of the different identities my imagination created during my childhood to protect me.

One is a she-wolf; she lives inside me on a beautiful snow covered mountainside. I discovered her existence during my first counselling session with Emma Welsh.

The moon has an important role in helping the wolf to release the pain she has held for me and the other identities; when the moon is full it stirs something in her to howl out. It’s not full yet…

I made the light side of the moon using a page from a magazine and several coats of white natural emulsion paint.

The dark side of the moon is black card flicked with tippex and painted over with black acrylic paint.

The fabric of the universe, or dark matter, is a large knitted square over which I sprinkled stars that were given to me by a wise woman at Survivors Network.

If there is a god or creator, I wonder if it created the universe as an art project?

What do you think?

Adaptations (2013)

Adapations (2013)

In the middle of the night I woke with the memory of a module about home in my moving image degree (2013). I couldn’t remember what I had produced for the module. I felt an urge to look at the external hard drive that contained all my work from that time. It was the middle of the night! However compelling the urge was, it could wait. I went back to sleep. That was Thursday night.

On Friday evening I plugged my hard drive into the laptop and in the directory was a file called journal-FINAL. The file contained my process notes for a short film I made called ‘Adaptations’ that was very much influenced by the home module. I was exploring ideas about what makes a home (things we use everyday?), how we identify with home, being exiled from home, and the relationship dynamics within home.

My partner and I were about to go on a trip to Tyneham in Dorset, which is a village taken by the British Army in 1944 so they could use the land for war practice. They promised the inhabitants that they could return to their homes after the war but the Ministry of Defence kept the land. They still use it for tanks and shooting practice.

My father was in the army and he killed himself when I was 9. My mum, sister and I had to leave our house, and community, because we were no longer valuable (if we ever were) to the army. We were stationed in Bovington, the nearest army base to Tyneham. There were beautiful woods behind our house and I used to spend a lot of time with the trees. I knew the feeling of being pushed out from a place I loved, like the villagers of Tyneham.

My partner and I watched Adaptations 3 times, at his request. It has no words, just sounds I’d found on a free sounds website to use as foley, and a beautiful, haunting flute composed by a friend at the beginning and end. You can portray a lot without words. The film was a way for me to work through a relationship breakup at the time.

I don’t know why I didn’t share it on my website earlier. I kind of forgot about the film until the intuitive prod to look at the home module occurred. Reading the accompanying journal was interesting. Here’s an excerpt that relates to the film:

A few weeks before he died, my mother and father had an argument in which it seemed he wanted to leave the relationship. They reconciled and he made a big show of making an effort with her, whilst she seemed resigned and closed down. Their communication always seemed to be broken but they managed to keep the relationship going until he died. I wonder how much of their ability to keep going related to how we lived and the objects that we saw everyday that helped us to retain our identities: the kitchen objects, the lounge objects, the bedroom objects. The mundane things that we touched and used or played with daily were real; they had tangible substance, whereas the arguments and the acts of undermining and violence could be ‘forgotten’ with enough distraction.

Moving with infinity – an intuitive walk in Venice

As I practised my shamanic drumming before going on an intuitive walk today, I found myself pacing in a figure of 8 around the bedroom. The movement came from my body – a natural urge – rather than my mind leading the way. The intention I set for the intuitive walk is: to find ‘dead’ space to sing to (I am doing art research in Venice for the British Council – see bottom of this post for more information on my project).

Image shows an art exhibit with sculpted landscape with a sheep with elongated legs laying down with legs folded up, a tiny deer (in relation to the sheep's - a tenth of the size) and a spherical light hanging above.

A Place Where I Love and Accept Myself Totally

Do you go on intuitive walks? Where you set an intention and then follow your intuitive urges and see what happens? This is one of mine…

photo shows cherry trees blossoming at the top, with ivy covering the trunks

Home is where the heart is?

picture shows a tiny home shape made from cardboard — Cardboard Home, 2023, Cardboard, glue, oil pastels, string

Home, according to Mole in Wind in the Willows, is a place filled with “familiar and friendly things which had long been unconsciously a part of him and now smilingly received him back.” I read the passage this statement comes from aloud at the start of the Home workshop I facilitated for Outside In at Hove Museum on 9 December. We all shared gestures, sounds and a word to get a sense of what our homes felt like before creating artworks that depicted this feeling(s). Conversation flowed between strangers as their hands busied, and I felt delighted to sit with each person and get to know them a little bit as they made their home. You can see an image of our homes formed into a group below – a village perhaps.

Othering Me, Othering You

Image shows strands of finger knitted wool of differing lengths arranged in a circle with the ends at the centre in a spiral. The wool is multi-coloured. — Othering Me, Othering You, 2023, Wool

I created this piece using wool. The wool came from a cardigan I made where I found the seams to be too irritating so I unpicked it. I am very sensitive to seams and labels in clothing. I was left with lots of small balls of wool in varying sizes and I followed an intuitive prod to finger knit each ball into a long strand. This took a few months and during this time I was working on my dissertation for my creative psychotherapy master’s, which was a heuristic inquiry into the experience of othering people different from me.

Category: Art