Bridging Hearts Through Art: A 90-Minute Journey of Inclusion

Sample artworks - for illustrative and privacy protection purposes only — not from the actual event.

Yesterday, I had the privilege of joining an event co-organized by Beazley, MINDS, and The Red Pencil — an afternoon of art, laughter, and human connection. As an art therapist, I was invited to facilitate a creative workshop for about 32 participants, most of them adults with Down syndrome or intellectual disabilities (ID), each paired with a volunteer from Beazley for support.

We gathered in Room 2F at Bras Basah — a cozy space that seemed to lean in and listen. After a warm welcome from all the organizations, I shared a little about art therapy. Unlike an art class, where the goal is often to learn skills and make something “look perfect,” art therapy focuses on the process: the joy of making, the freedom to express, and the discovery of one’s own feelings. There is no right or wrong here — each piece is unique, just like each person in the room.

For volunteers, this meant a slightly different role than in a typical arts-and-crafts session: to assist without taking over, to encourage without correcting, and to respect each person’s pace and choices. In art therapy, the aim is not to improve the product, but to support the person. A crooked line or a “messy” tear can hold just as much meaning as a neatly drawn heart.

Our activity for the day was the Tear-and-Paste Feelings Collage. Participants first chose a shape or symbol they liked to draw on a A3 paper — maybe a heart, a star, an ice cream, or something entirely their own. Then came the exploration: picking colours and textures of paper, tearing them into pieces, and gluing them onto the drawing to express feelings. Colours, shapes, textures, and symbols became our shared language — each carrying personal meanings unique to its maker. A heart might mean love to one, friendship to another; a colour might feel joyful to one, calming to someone else.

The energy in the room was infectious. One elderly lady proudly filled her page with colourful cable cars to Sentosa, stringing joy across her paper. A gentleman created a parade of fruits, led by his beloved durian. Others chose heart shapes to speak of their friends or their love for Singapore, still fresh from its 60th birthday celebration.

Simulation image for illustrative and privacy protection purposes only — not from the actual event.

For those unfamiliar, individuals with Down syndrome or ID often navigate challenges in communication, learning, and daily living. Yet, they also offer something extraordinary: authenticity, openness, and a capacity for joy that is unfiltered and immediate. Our role, as community members, is to create spaces of acceptance and inclusivity — not as an act of charity, but as recognition of shared humanity.

Words were not always the clearest bridge that afternoon, but connection flowed freely in other ways: a sparkle in the eyes, a hand resting in quiet thanks, a smile that filled the space. And when it came time to share their work, this group surprised me. In many workshops, participants may hesitate to speak, but here, every person stepped up to the microphone, eager to tell their story. After each one, the room erupted in wholehearted applause.

For 90 minutes, our paths overlapped. We met in the language of colours and shapes, symbols and textures. I was reminded that art has a way of stripping away difference and leaving only the essence of who we are.

The afternoon ended with smiles all around — volunteers, clients, facilitators — a quiet glow that followed me home. I left humbled, grateful for the tool I carry in my work, and honored to witness how a simple act of creation can bridge worlds.

Sometimes, connection doesn’t require a shared vocabulary. Just a safe space, some art materials, and the willingness to sit beside someone in their world for a while.

“Diversity is not about how we differ. Diversity is about embracing one another’s uniqueness.” — Ola Joseph