I was sitting with 2 residents in an Alzheimer’s Unit.
“Let’s write a haiku poem. Look out the window at all the snow. What do you think of the snow? How does it make you feel? What does it remind you of?”
I received feedback: Ice cream, cold, have to wear a coat, kinda wet, falling ice, snowball, winter, dead.
“What would you compare it to?”
My sister sleeping.
“Is the snow sleeping?”
Yes
It also has energy
“For what?”
To make the grass grow in the spring.

I began writing their words in the 5 syllables, then 7 syllables, then 5 syllables. Here is our Haiku poem.
Peaceful snow sleeping
Watering seeds for Spring
Waiting for flowers.
We got the paints out and painted flowers coming out of the snow.

Ted is 86 and loves landscape paintings.
“I could never do one,” he said.
“Let’s try,” I said.

We watched as the water and colors spread across the page forming mountains and meadows with the wave of his hand. When it was finished, I held it up. He thought it needed a horse and asked if I would put one in it. I did just that and he asked for some more horses.

“Let’s write a poem about this picture. You come up with a sentence.”

He came up with a sentence about the sunset and we brainstormed on words that rhymed with “west”. We ended up with a 4 line poem.

The sun is setting in the west.
It is going down behind the crest.
A horse is following the rest.
“Wait for me” the stallion says.

Sandra was an hour early for supper.

She sat motionless at the table by herself. I quietly sat down beside her with a box of crayons and a piece of paper.

“Let’s draw something, “ I said.
“I don’t draw,” she retorted. I explained that we could do something together.
“What are some things you liked to do when you were younger?” I asked.
“ All I did was take care of children and cook,” she replied.

I picked up a black crayon and drew an iron skillet. I handed the paper to Sandra and asked her to put something in the pan. She decided on eggs. She drew them. I added some other details and she colored the picture. As we did, we talked about her life and a lot about cooking. When she was finished, she wanted to hang it on her wall.

A week later, her roommate (who normally stays secluded in her room) came to the activity room and wanted a “skillet” picture too. “I want sausage gravy in mine,” she said. Hence….another skillet picture…

Pictured is a percussion circle in an Alzheimer’s unit. We started by taking lots of time to pass the African drum around, feeling and smelling the hide stretched across the top, the ties, and rubbing our hands over the carvings at the bottom. One on one we echo as the others watch. As we get in the flow, more instruments are introduced (shakers, bells, etc.) We experiment with sounds as we sing various songs. Rhythm is something that is quite active beyond mental capabilities. It expresses the inner soul.

When there is pain, depression, or anxiety, art can soothe and heal. If allowed the freedom to do what is within, a specific style emerges over and over.

Pat says she likes people. She paints hundreds of them, lined up and with lots of color.

Laura over comes her fears and depression by letting paint flow from her brush in squiggly lines. The picture shown is only one of many that she has painted. Her eyes get happy when she paints.

Grizley is bedridden. The only way he is able to get through his day is through detailed drawings, usually cartoon style, highly detailed. It takes hours. He HAS hours, of course.

Pat did not come out of her room often, until she discovered art and drama. She seemed to enjoy the social part and also the laughter and expression.
During a drama session, we were gathered in a circle with various roles for a song we were singing. Each person acted out his or her part of the song. Pat enjoyed dramatizing the part of the bird.

I go frequently to a facility that has a good mixture of men and women. I find it interesting that the ones who clamor to paint are men. We decided to call in Men’s Club. They gather and paint…and even allow the women to come and watch. As they paint together, they socially bond as they come alive to the arts. Notice that one gentleman is painting a portrait of the other.

George has had a long life of accomplishments in technology, music, and art. Things started changing as he developed Alzheimers. The talent he has of playing the piano lives on. One of his present joys is sitting down at the piano in the dining room and playing the piano with a flourish.

Many times I end up not being prepared. A project was on the calendar that I was assigned to at the last minute. We were planning on filling cookie cutters with jolly ranchers and popping them in the oven. I read the directions out loud to a group of ladies who could not always think clearly, but had much life experience in the kitchen. I explained my lack of experience and started asking them what would work best. “Do you think we need waxed paper or Pam spray? Would foil work better? How many pieces of hard candy do you think it would take?” We muddled through it together as suggestions were made. We had failure and success. We had an end product, but in the end, along with laughter, we had more than that. We bonded together in the process of discerning the best courses of action.

Mary was recovering in bed for many weeks. I have known her for years and she had not ever tried her hand at painting, except for painting walls. I surprised her when I came into her room. I told her I had a big piece of cardboard and big brushes and paints. “Would you like to paint?”

“Well, I guess so,” she replied cooperatively. “You can’t do it wrong.”

I spread a plastic garbage bag over her sheet and I held the cardboard. She picked up the big brush and started painting with red. She picked up another brush with yellow in it and watched things change from red to orange. More colors appeared as she experimented. When she was finished, we looked at it from all directions and our imaginations went wild. We hung it on her wall.