We then explored how that configuration could evolve to allow him to step back and let the team grow further. I asked him ‘Can you draw the new way?’. He created Figure 4 (L’s future team) where he was out of the way, and the rest of the team, grown in number, supported each other, moving in the same direction. From then on, unprompted, he began to use quick sketches to configure then reconfigure his horizontal relationship with global peers, as our dialogue progressed. 

 

At the end of our work together, L shared three benefits of coaching with his line supervisor.

He has learned to trust his team’s direct reports, delegating while staying supportive. This freed his time, and mind, to look at the bigger picture. He also modelled this behaviour, teaching his team to do the same. I particularly like this ripple effect of his learning.

 

In his peer network, L learned to build alliance one person at a time. Now he had gathered a group of colleagues in his support, he became more visible horizontally, leading a planning committee.

 

L added a third, unexpected, benefit: he connected better with colleagues personally, both within and outside his team, beyond the task level. Drawing helped make people visible and reminded him to relate to them as individuals, not just numbers to shuffle around the organisation.

 

Working with team dynamics

 

I was invited to work with a team of nine people, to address the dynamics that the team leader, frustrated, described as ‘small conflicts between people’ that were holding them back from doing better work. I offered the team six weekly sessions. For the first session, I requested a spacious room, and materials for drawing: sheets of A3 paper and coloured pens. Then I invited each team member to introduce themselves by drawing how they saw themselves in the team.

 

We displayed each drawing on the wall, one at a time. I guided the group to take turns responding to what they saw and heard as each person explained their drawing. We asked questions to understand the details, and in turn, we offered up what the images made us think and feel.

 

By talking about the images on the wall and not directly about each other, the team members felt free to express how they felt for the first time: their isolation, pain, hurt, impatience, frustration, anger, resignation — and their joy, care, and pride.

 

The team leader drew a big head, his own. Always seen as a kind, caring person, he let his anger show for the first time, and the team was stunned. He explained that, growing up, to be a ‘caring person’ and ‘not to hurt others’ was expected by his family. So he repressed his anger, hiding it under a bright, permanent smile. He carried the team in the same way, believing that everyone relied on him ‘being nice’ to stay.

 

The team coordinator drew herself as a crab walking sideways, away from the rest of the team. She admitted that although her role was to pull the team together, she felt isolated. In response to questions of concern, she explained the reasons.

 

The youngest and most energetic member drew herself a train speeding past rows of trees, blowing energy. When someone imagined the vapour trailing behind as exhaust, she realised that she had been moving too fast, impatiently exhausting herself, and perhaps the team too. She saw that she needed to slow down, to observe, and to align with others at times.

 

One member, often seen as the ‘troublemaker’, drew an iceberg and spoke of pain submersed beneath the surface. Her seemingly aggressive behaviour began to be understood as a sign of suffering. Dislike shifted into empathy.[1] 

 

I could not imagine these revelations, and the following conversations, emerging through verbal discussion alone. Words might have been met with judgement and resistance. But through drawing, they could reveal themselves — tenderly, truthfully. This vulnerability had already begun to draw some of them closer, through understanding and compassion.

 

The drawings remained on the wall throughout our time together. Team members returned to them voluntarily while we further explored their dynamics. On the last day, I witnessed the whole team standing in a circle, expressing love and compassion, proud of who they were and the successes they had achieved together over the years. I had no doubt they would carry the care for each other that I witnessed in that moment into the work they continue to share.

 

What art therapy can teach us about drawing

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Although my use of drawing in coaching and supervision has emerged from practice rather than theory, I’ve come to see how deeply it aligns with the core principles of art therapy – a discipline that offers profound insight into the power of image-making for self-understanding and transformation.

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Artist and pioneer art therapist, Adrian Hill, coined the term ‘art therapy’ in 1942 after having discovered the effect of ‘art in illness’ during his recovery from tuberculosis.3 From the observation that drawing helped restore his emotional wellbeing, he began encouraging fellow patients – many with no artistic background – to draw and paint, believing that healing lay not in skill, but in expression. His approach laid the foundation for an inclusive practice that values creativity as a way of making inner experience visible and accessible.

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Edith Kramer, a pioneer of art therapy with emotional troubled children, maintained the view that the children had been ‘too used to looking and listening and taking in rather than expressing their thoughts, feelings and dreams’; she used art-making to allow them to express and process complex emotions.4 Kramer saw art therapy as a distinct modality that complements but does not replace verbal psychotherapy. Within therapeutic environments such as hospitals and schools, it plays a vital role in supporting development and psychological integration.

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Working from a psychodynamic perspective of transference and countertransference, the Jungian psychoanalyst and art psychotherapist, Joy Schaverien, described the image as a ‘third presence in the room’, a medium through which unconscious dynamics are projected and made visible.5 This is especially powerful for clients who struggle with verbal expression; the image enables access to what may otherwise remain hidden. Many of my coachees and supervisees have also described their drawing in this way; as a third object to interact with, and so divert difficult questions directly onto the artwork.

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Art therapist Cathy Malchiodi, drawing on trauma research and neuroscience, describes art-making as ‘psychological care’, allowing clients to access implicit memories and emotions stored in the body and senses.6 She suggests that it is a process of re-authoring the dominant narrative of their life story, leading to development of new outlooks, answering questions, reviewing the way they live, finding solutions, resolutions, explanations, and meanings.

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Bruce Moon, whose extensive work focuses on art-based group therapy, describes the work of creating images in the presence of others as the agent of change.7 The additional interactions with materials and images become shared processes that help participants express feelings, understand each other’s experiences, and improve interaction. His patients included those who were not able to express their feelings verbally or had experienced ‘talking cures’ but simply talking about their problems had not been sufficiently helpful. Moon emphasises how drawing within a group, and dialogue with the images, can reveal group dynamics, ease interpersonal tension, and foster connection. This insight has direct relevance for coaching teams: using drawing to surface unspoken dynamics and emotional undercurrents can open the way for deeper trust, clearer communication, and more effective collaboration.

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This resonates deeply with my own practice. In coaching and supervision, drawing often reveals what clients cannot yet say. Viewing the image together invites shared curiosity, as if we are both engaging with something alive between us. In groups, drawings act as mirrors, surfacing resonances that verbal dialogue alone may not reach.

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Coaching is not therapy, but many of the challenges clients bring – inner conflict, role strain, relational patterns, lack of direction or purpose – are not always accessible through linear, verbal dialogue. Drawing is a gentle, creative invitation to attend to the parts of ourselves that speak in images, metaphors, and sensations. It invites the whole person into the room, not just the one who speaks fluently. It doesn’t offer solutions, but it reveals. And from that, clarity and change can begin.

 

Reflection

 

Drawing has become a quiet yet powerful dimension of my coaching and supervision practice. Though I initially introduced drawing to complement verbal dialogue, it has evolved into a way of working that consistently deepens the quality of exploration, particularly when the spoken word falls short.

 

It offers a different kind of access; to emotion, to intuition, to what lies beneath the surface. By inviting clients to draw, we slow down, shifting from the immediacy of conversation to a reflective space where thoughts, feelings, and images can take form. It often brings to light material that was not yet conscious, and therefore could not be conveyed in words. Drawing becomes not only a tool but a pathway towards insight, movement, and transformation.

 

In practice, it changes the relational dynamic. The act of drawing, often unskilled, unpractised, and free of performance, creates safety. It invites openness, vulnerability, and playfulness. Clients engage more as whole persons, not just professionals in role. The process builds trust and intimacy, enabling a deeper quality of connection and understanding between us.

 

Working across cultures and geographies, I find drawing also acts as a bridge. Through the stories expressed in images, I learn not only about organisational life, but about my clients’ worlds – their values, cultural histories, even their personal struggles, their trauma and beauty. These moments generate energy and compassion, for my clients and for myself. In that space of connection, curiosity expands, defences soften, and new perspectives emerge with ease. In this visual dialogue, differences dissolve. What remains is the pulse of what makes us human: the need to be seen, to connect, to find meaning. These moments when someone draws what they could not find the words to say remind me why I do this work. They give me joy, not from results alone, but from the beauty of what unfolds between us.

 

Drawing is not a method I apply systematically in my work. Rather, it emerges naturally when words seem too limited, when emotion needs a different container, or when a shift is needed. It is a gentle interruption that opens up fresh possibilities.

 

In a professional landscape that often prizes clarity, speed, and linear progress, drawing invites ambiguity, complexity, and spaciousness. It reminds us that changes often begin with the courage to see differently.

 

Above all, it is a practice of love – of seeing with care, of listening beyond words, and of meeting each other as whole human beings.

 

References

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1. Newton J, Long S, Sievers B (eds.). Coaching in depth: the organisational role analysis approach. London: Karnac; 2006.

2. Bion WR. Notes on memory and desire. In: Bott Spillius E, editor. The collected works of W.R. Bion. London: Karnac; 2014. p. 295–300. (Originally published 1967 in The Psychoanalytic Forum, 2(3)).

3. Hill A. Art versus illness: a story of art therapy. London: Allen & Unwin; 1945.

4. Kramer E. Art as therapy with children. New York: Schocken Books; 1971.

5. Schaverien J. The revealing image: analytical art psychotherapy in theory and practice. London: Routledge; 1992.

6. Malchiodi CA. Art therapy and health care. New York: Guilford Press; 2013.

7. Moon BL. Art-based group therapy: theory and practice (2nd ed.). Springfield, IL: Charles C. Thomas Publisher; 2016.

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