Journal of Analytical Psychology, 2005, 50, 127–153

Art, dreams and active imagination:

A post-Jungian approach to transference
and the image
Joy Schaverien, Leicester, UK

Abstract: The term active imagination is sometimes applied rather uncritically to

describe all forms of creative activity that take place in depth psychology. Whilst there
are many forms of expression that evoke or are evoked by active imagination, they
cannot automatically be classed as active imagination. In this article investigation of
visualized mental imagery, dreams and art reveals three distinct forms of image-based
psychological activity. Integrated and mediated within the transference and counter-
transference dynamic, it is proposed that the engagement in active imagination reflects
and is influenced by the transference. Distinctions between sign and symbol, simple and
big dreams as well as diagrammatic and embodied imagery clarify the differences.
Examples from clinical practice demonstrate each mode in action within the analytic
frame.

Key words: active imagination, art, countertransference, dreams, free association,

Jung, sign, symbol, transference, visualization, waking dreams.

Active imagination, like transference, mobilizes the psyche. Many forms of

creative expression experienced within the analytic frame are sometimes rather
loosely regarded as active imagination, or generative of it, but closer observa-
tion of their specific nature reveals significant differences. Just as words can be
applied in many diverse ways, so too can images. Therefore the intention in
this article1 is to question the use of the term active imagination in order to
differentiate it from other forms of imaginative and creative activity. It was
Jung who proposed that a number of different art forms could give expression
to inner images, through active imagination as he explained:
I . . . took up a dream image or an association of the patient’s, and with this as a
point of departure, set him the task of elaborating or developing his theme by giving

1
An earlier version of this paper was given at the First International Academic Conference of
Analytical Psychology held at the University of Essex, UK, in July 2002.

0021–8774/2005/5002/127 © 2005, The Society of Analytical Psychology

Published by Blackwell Publishing Ltd, 9600 Garsington Road, Oxford OX4 2DQ, UK and 350 Main Street, Malden, MA 02148, USA.
128 Joy Schaverien

free rein to his fantasy. This . . . could be done in any number of ways, dramatic,
dialectic, visual, acoustic, or in the form of dancing, painting, drawing, or modelling.

(Jung 1947, para. 402)

Many present day analytical psychologists apply particular forms of creative

expression in their work with patients. These include: dance movement therapy
(Chodorow 1991), sandplay (Kalff 1980; Mitchell & Friedman 1994; Amman
1991; Steinhardt 2000), and music (Williams 2001; Skar 2002). Each of these
might be the spark for active imagination or be generated by it but they cannot
be considered to be active imagination. The art form is not itself active imagina-
tion, although it might at times reflect it. It is the experience of the person,
rather than the medium, that is active imagination. This is the reason why ana-
lysts and art therapists sometimes declare their interest to be in the process
rather than the product [i.e., art] created within analysis. However that is to
limit the potential import of active imagination. The process of active imagina-
tion is highly significant but the end product, the vision, dream or picture, as a
shared image or object within the therapeutic relationship, is of analytic interest
because it influences both the transference and the countertransference.
The scope of this article is limited to those areas of expression with which I
am most familiar from my own experience and from clinical practice. The
focus is on three specific forms of imaginal activity: waking dreams, in the
form of visualizations, dreams and art. Observation reveals three distinct
forms of image-based experience and, within the manifestation of each, some
cases where imagination is clearly active and others where it is not. It is
proposed that this is related to, and sometimes generated by, the depth and
quality of the engagement in the transference.
The three clinical examples are intended to reveal the influence of the
transference on active imagination. The first was a profoundly symbolic visu-
alization that emerged as an integrated aspect of an already activated transference.
The second shows how the unconscious, in the form of dreams, leads a person
deeper into analysis and mobilizes the psyche when the transference feels
stuck. The third demonstrates how artwork may embody the transference,
revealing previously unconscious elements, rendering them visible and so
available to consciousness. None of these was an isolated event but each
developed into a chain of visualizations, or a series of dreams or pictures, and
so to a lived form of active imagination.

Active imagination
The term active imagination was applied by Jung to refer to a means of
mobilizing the psyche through an image or a chain of images and their related
associations. It is a concentration ‘on some impressive but unintelligible
dream-image, or on a spontaneous visual impression, and [one] observes the
changes taking place in it’ (Jung 1951a, para. 319). This may lead to the
Art, dreams and active imagination 129

surfacing of previously unconscious material and so to its gradual admittance

to consciousness. It may occur in one swift insight or it may dawn gradually,
through a series of related experiences. In order to travel this journey a psy-
chological split is necessary; one part of the personality enters into the fantasy
material, whilst another observes the process.
Jung came to active imagination and his method of amplification through
his own experiences. After he and Freud parted, Jung experienced what he
called ‘a period of disorientation’. In Memories, Dreams, Reflections he tells
of his confrontation with the unconscious (Jung 1963, chap. 6) and of how his
interest in his dreams and psychological state at that time led to an intense
period of self-analysis. This, combined with listening to his patients’ dreams
and associations, led him to further explore the mythical content of the psy-
che. Whenever Jung felt stuck with his own analytic material he reverted to
making models or painting pictures, recalling the play activities of his
childhood. Spontaneously he made circular drawings and later, when he
encountered Eastern philosophy, he realized they were similar to mandalas of
the East. He began to understand the goal of psychic development to be the
self. ‘There is no linear evolution; there is only a circumambulation of the self’
(Jung 1963, p. 222)2.
Active imagination is like this; nothing is linear or logical and yet its process
makes sense in an indirect manner. It evokes archetypal material and Jung
relates it to the collective unconscious when he writes that, ‘certain collective
unconscious conditions . . . behave exactly like the motive forces in dreams, for
which reason active imagination . . . to some extent takes the place of dreams
(Jung 1947, para. 403). It is this dream function of active imagination that
leads to consideration of it as a means of dreaming whilst awake.
Active imagination was a central tenet of Jung’s psychology and
Chodorow points out, that in one place he described ‘active imagination as
his analytical method of psychotherapy’ (Chodorow 1997, p. 17). However
like so much else in his oeuvre his views on it were fluid and changed
throughout his life.

Active imagination and free association

Active imagination was originally a development of the free association
method of psychoanalysis. Jung wrote: ‘I learned it from Freud’s method of

2
It is a common misapprehension to consider all circles in pictures to be mandalas. It has been
shown that the circle is amongst the first marks a child makes (Kellogg 1970; Piaget in Kellogg
1970). It could be argued that many such circular movements can be explained as the result of a
circular hand arm movement that comes naturally to children. It therefore may have a relation-
ship to expression of the self but it does not necessarily have the sophistication and intelligence
of a consciously constructed mandala, such as those produced in the East for the purpose of
meditation.
130 Joy Schaverien

free association, and I regard it as a direct extension of that’ (Jung 1931,

para. 100). Therefore the distinction between the two methods merits
attention3. In free association Freud (1963) instructs the patient to:
Put himself into a state of quiet unreflecting self observation, and to report to us
whatever internal perceptions he is able to make—feelings, thoughts, memories—in
the order in which they occur to him. At the same time we warn him expressly
against giving way to any motive, which would lead him to make a selection among
these associations or to exclude any of them.

(Freud 1963, p. 287)

So in free association the patient is asked to observe and report his thoughts
but to refrain from selecting material. In active imagination Jung instructs the
patient to both select and follow the lead of the image: ‘ . . . the patient is
simply given the task of contemplating any one fragment of fantasy that seems
significant to him . . . until its context becomes visible (Jung 1951a, para. 101).
For Jung therefore, selection is an important part of the process, because it
indicates where the patient’s interest may lie and elaboration of the image or
fantasy is encouraged:
It is not a question of the ‘free association’ recommended by Freud for the purpose of
dream-analysis, but of elaborating the fantasy by observing the further fantasy mate-
rial that adds itself to the fragment . . . the resultant sequence of fantasies relieves the
unconscious and produces material rich in archetypal images and associations.

(Jung 1936/37, paras. 101–102)

It seems that this is the point of departure; Jung or the patient selects a strand
to develop and the patient is encouraged to elaborate the fantasy material. The
patient embarks on an imaginal journey and the process may be amplified by a
myth or fairy tale that seems to resonate with the archetypal atmosphere of the
material. This might be chosen by the patient or, at times, suggested by the
analyst; clearly this differs from free association. According to Mattoon,
Jung’s objection to free association was that it led to uncovering complexes
but it did not take ‘advantage of the unique contributions of dreams to gaining
information from the unconscious’ (Mattoon 1984, p. 55). Jung considered
that, although ‘at first sight [dreams] point backwards . . . [they] also have “a
continuity forwards . . . ”’ (Jung 1934, para. 444; itals in original). It is this for-
wards movement that is of interest when considering active imagination.

Surface to depth
The difference between surface activity and depth experience will become
increasingly significant as we consider the transference experiences associated

3
Perhaps this is one of the fundamental and unacknowledged differences that remains between
Jungians and Freudians today.
Art, dreams and active imagination 131

with active imagination. Jung makes a distinction between ordinary imaginative

activity, such as fantasy, and active imagination:

A fantasy is more or less your own invention, and remains on the surface of personal
things and conscious expectations. But active imagination, as the term denotes,
means that the images have a life of their own and that symbolic events develop
according to their own logic—that is, of course, if your conscious reason does not
interfere.

(Jung 1935, ‘The Tavistock Lectures’, para. 397)

Imaginative activity, such as simple reverie and daydreaming, ‘remains on the

surface of personal things’; it is therefore closer to conscious experience.
Active imagination requires directed attention and a suspension of disbelief
that permits previously unconscious imagery to flow and so deeper material
may become manifest.
Fordham, similarly, differentiated active imagination of adults in analysis
from the play and spontaneous imaginative activity of children (Fordham
1977). Play may be profoundly meaningful but Fordham seems to consider
that play is not synonymous with active imagination. Play remains nearer to
the surface even when it reveals unconscious material. In active imagination
consciousness is usually deliberately directed towards an image; a new situ-
ation is created and unconscious contents are exposed. This distinction
between surface activity and depth leads to consideration of the differences
between sign and symbol, to which I will return later.

Active imagination
1. Waking Dreams
Active imagination may emerge spontaneously as visualized imagery, as a ‘wak-
ing dream’ (Watkins 1984). This is different from a simple daydream, which is a
form of reverie, and from a dream experienced whilst asleep. The deliberate
lowering of consciousness permits images from the unconscious to rise to the
surface and, as these emerge, it may be as if the visualized event is actually tak-
ing place. Therefore this form of active imagination is lived experience. The
image generates psychological movement whilst the ego is held in a suspended
state. Then, gradually as they are assimilated these images come into relation-
ship with the conscious mind. The protagonist mentally travels from surface to
depth and then returns but in an altered state. Watkins writes that:
[Jung] found that the ability he had observed in himself to allow the unconscious and
conscious to speak together while awake could . . . be helped to develop
naturally . . . This ability of actively imagining would emerge at critical times in
analysis when the polarities of the psyche sought some image of integration.

(Watkins 1984, p. 47)

132 Joy Schaverien

It was like this with the first example I will give; this was active imagination
experienced at a critical time. It occurred spontaneously from within the trans-
ference/countertransference dynamic with which the images resonated at
depth. The context was a therapeutic relationship where non-verbal imagery
had played a significant part from the beginning.

Vignette 1.
The couch in my consulting room was rather small and it could not really
accommodate big people, as well as this the person lying on it was unprotected
from the cold wall beside it. Therefore when, during one Spring break, I found
a suitable new couch I exchanged the old couch for this new one. It was larger
and it had an arm along one side that would protect the person lying on it
from contact with the wall. People’s reactions to this change of couch varied,
some appeared not to notice the change. Others commented, expressing their
like or dislike of it. The person who was most affected was Lizzie, a slim
woman in her late twenties, who was not in need of the larger couch. She was
devastated by what she experienced as the presence of an interloper in the
place of the little, old, friendly couch. As her attachment to the first couch was
gradually explored a powerful series of mentally experienced visual images
emerged, which we might understand to be a form of spontaneous active
imagination arising from the unconscious. For several sessions there was silent
and unspoken rage as Lizzie sat in the chair, eyes on the ground or glaring
with hostility at the handsome, new couch; she could hardly bear to look at it.
Eventually she was able to tell me how upset she was as she said in a quiet
voice, ‘It was my father’.
During the course of this analysis the room, as well as the objects within it,
had become animated and, in Lizzie’s mind, incorporated into the transfer-
ence. They were experienced as the analyst’s body in many different gendered
guises. I remembered now that she had experienced one particularly difficult
break, as an enforced birth. On her return she had hated the little couch; she
said that it had been the father’s penis, which had intruded, in her absence,
into the maternal body/room.4 This penis/couch could go where she could no
longer be and so she was furious and had imagined destroying it. Of course
during that time it had been very necessary that it had survived. Then she had
begun to befriend it and to lie on it and so it had become a benign paternal
presence to which she could relate within the room.
It was because of this history that the new couch took on immensely hostile
proportions. She would not lie on it and eventually she was able to admit to
a chain of images in which she saw herself getting hold of the new couch,
throwing it forcibly out of the room, tearing it up, ripping the legs off it, and

4
This Kleinian imagery would perhaps seem to have been suggested by the analyst. However
these were her words and images that she had arrived at herself.
Art, dreams and active imagination 133

stamping on it, breaking it up into little pieces. It became an impostor father

who had to be destroyed. She described the scene in detail without looking at
me. She was devastated and, in her mind, she laid waste to the couch and me
along with it.
This was an active imagination, vividly conveyed through a combination of
the atmosphere generated in the room, action in her posture and the sense of
silent rage that went on for many sessions. Finally it emerged in words spoken
without eye contact and in a whispered voice that belied the chain of events
described. In one sense Lizzie was passive before this chain of images and in
another sense active in them. Thus two parts of herself were involved; one part
participated in the imagined events, whilst the other observed and later com-
mented on the action. Jung writes of such an experience:
It is part dream, part vision, or dream mixed with vision. These ‘visions’ are far from
being hallucinations or ecstatic states; they are spontaneous, visual images of fantasy
or so-called active imagination.

(Jung 1951a, para. 319; itals. in original)

There is not space here to develop the psychological aspects of the case in
depth but I will outline my understanding of some of the processes involved.
Before the break Lizzie had been beginning to move from two-person relating
to three; the third was represented in her mind by the couch. Although her
sense of exclusion from the parental couple/analyst in the break had enraged
her this had been just about bearable. However on her return the couch was
gone; an object that played a significant role in her inner world was missing. It
seemed that it was as if the parents had split up during the break. This evoked
more intense rage accompanied by terror that her destructive fantasies had
had actual consequences. The impulse for revenge on the mother/analyst was
vividly expressed through the spontaneous active imagination described. It
was only much later that the sadness associated with these events could be
expressed.
This active imagination emerged spontaneously from within the transfer-
ence/countertransference relationship. It was a depth and so symbolic event
experienced whilst the protagonist was awake. Lizzie saw herself engaging
in this act as if it were actually happening; she lived the experience. This was
evident when she said, ‘It was my father’ rather than, ‘it was as if it were my
father’. At the time there was no ‘as if’, and the extent of the expression of her
fury terrified and shocked her. However an important distinction needs to be
made here because she was not psychotic and this was not a delusional
transference. Lizzie had sufficient ego strength to manage the feelings and to
talk about them. For the time of the imagining the ‘as if’ was temporarily
submerged but it was quickly regained and that is the point—it was, despite
the intensity of the feelings, a symbolic act. Lizzie did not actually attempt to
destroy the couch and, although she lived the experience in her imagination,
134 Joy Schaverien

she did not believe it had happened. It is the ability to regain the ‘as if’ position
that distinguishes a psychological event such as this from psychosis.
This visualization was unlike a dream, in that Lizzie was awake and aware
of her fury. Clearly this is very different from dreaming in the night when the
conscious psyche has no volition. Watkins describes how Jung:
had found that the acts of allowing the images to arise while conscious and aware,
and of participating with them, invested ‘the bare fantasy with an aspect of reality,
which lends it greater weight and greater driving power’.

(Jung 1954, para. 106, quoted in Watkins 1984, p. 47)

This was also unlike a picture because there was no concrete manifestation of
the image. One difference between the three modes of experience under discus-
sion is in the way it is conveyed to the analyst. With a mental event such as
this, no matter how powerfully it is described or conveyed non-verbally, the
analyst cannot see the imagined act as the patient does. Words are needed to
report the experience. It is similar with a dream—words are needed. With
pictures they are not always necessary.

Transference as active imagination

The therapeutic relationship constitutes the environment within which active
imagination arises. Therefore the symbolic depth of the active imagination
reflects the transference. We have seen this with Lizzie’s active imagination,
which was evoked by the transference in which she was at the time immersed.
Transference is a technical term, a concept, which stands for an imaginal
enterprise in which analysts engage daily. It was Freud’s initial leap of imagin-
ation that gave us this term almost one hundred years ago. In the years since it
was initially used, transference has developed, been discussed, argued over,
and generally applied in consulting rooms throughout the world. In consider-
ing this I quote Bachelard who warns that:
Concepts are drawers in which knowledge may be classified; they are also ready
made garments which do away with the individuality of knowledge that has been
experienced. The concept soon become lifeless thinking since, by its definition, it is
classified thinking.

(Bachelard 1958, p. 74)

It is rare that transference, or active imagination, is applied as lifeless thinking

but their very familiarity may lead to tenuous assumptions of common meaning.
There is a basic agreement about what they mean but creative discourse avoids
losing the subtlety of the live, and ever changing, states of being they convey. It
is the hope that some of the freshness of Freud or Jung’s original leap of imag-
ination may remain alive whilst revisiting and questioning present day use of
these terms.
Art, dreams and active imagination 135

It is well known that Freud (1912, 1915) first came to understand that,
within the framed setting of analysis, the patient might regress to an earlier
pattern of relating in which the analyst was experienced as a parent, or an
authority figure from the past. As the past becomes live in the present, the
psyche is so-to-speak ‘set in motion’, and change is possible. I will be using the
term ‘set in motion’ again later in this article so it merits a little attention here.
It is borrowed from Bachelard who writes that: ‘Psychoanalysis sets the
human being in motion . . . It calls on him to live outside the abodes of his
unconscious, to enter into life’s adventures, to come out of himself’ (Bachelard
1964, p. 10). This seems to express vividly the experience of engagement in
analysis and active imagination in particular. The transference itself is an
imaginal experience that ‘sets the human being in motion’ and, as previously
frozen states come to life, change is possible. This is initially generated by the
analyst’s attention, understanding and interest. All kinds of distortions may
occur in the transference but it is usually clear to both participants, unless
there is a psychotic transference, that the analyst is not (for example) the
parent. The analyst, perceived through the lense of the transference, is both
a real person and an imaginal one carrying the traces of the pattern of past
relationships.
Thus it is that the transference itself may sometimes be viewed as a form of
active imagination. In an article, published in this journal in 1966, Davidson
proposed that: ‘a successful analysis can be thought of as a lived-through
active imagination’ (Davidson 1966, p. 135). This view, that transference be
regarded as active imagination, merits some attention because it departs from
the classical understanding that it is the patient who experiences active imagin-
ation. Davidson’s proposal is that the analyst might regard the whole of the
patient’s unconscious drama, enacted through the transference, as a form of
active imagination even though the patient may not see it that way.
The unconscious contents . . . will enact themselves in the form of a drama which will
go on being enacted until such time as it comes through to the analyst in exactly the
way Jung has described the fantasies coming through to consciousness in active
imagination.

(Davidson 1966, pp. 137–8)

It is the method of this ‘coming through’ that interests her as she emphasizes
that: ‘it is the analyst, and not the patient, who is the one with the attitude
favourable to active imagination and who stands for the ego integrating
function’ (Davidson 1966, p. 144). This was an innovative approach to coun-
tertransference at the time that it was written. Lowering of consciousness in
order to be in touch with the patient’s inner world is certainly an imaginative
act and a creative way of understanding the images, which arise in the analyst,
as unconscious communication from the patient. Today this might be consid-
ered a familiar way of viewing countertransference but it was innovative to
conceive of it as active imagination.
136 Joy Schaverien

In Davidson’s view the analyst, as observer, is temporarily placed in the

position of the ego, holding the conscious function for the patient.
According to Samuels et al. (1986) and Chodorow (1997) this observation
is her particular contribution. However Davidson’s thesis is analyst cen-
tred and I suggest that in it there are two facets of active imagination
under discussion. The first is counter transference as active imagination.
The second is the transference—the patient’s experience—but viewed by
the analyst, as active imagination. We are then left with the question—
what of the patient’s experience?
In Jung’s original view the analyst would encourage the analysand to
focus on aspects of her or his own imaginal experience. This would then
be amplified with mythical or personal associations, which would often
lead to the emergence of archetypal material. Rather surprisingly David-
son reports that ‘analytical psychologists do not nowadays use active
imagination in the form in which Jung described it’ (Davidson 1966, p.
144). Located in the developmental school of the Society of Analytical
Psychology in London forty years ago perhaps this was her experience but
it would be a pity if that remained as the final word on the matter. Others
from the same Society writing at that time, and since, seem to integrate
Jung’s method within their analytic work (Plaut 1966; Fordham 1977;
Gordon 1993; Moore 1986; Powell 1998).
Moreover at the time that Davidson was writing in the UK, Marie-Louise
von Franz with her colleagues in Zürich, were working with active imagin-
ation in the more traditionally Jungian sense. Therefore post-Jungian
approaches to active imagination seem to reveal some of the differences
between the traditions of Classical and Developmental schools, discussed by
Samuels (1985) and Chodorow (1997). Whilst a review of the literature on
active imagination and further discussion of these differences would be fasci-
nating, it is beyond the scope of this present article.
Although my thoughts have some resonance with Davidson’s thesis, I am
proposing something a little different. I am not addressing the idea of act-
ive imagination as transference but active imagination within the transfer-
ence. This article is predominantly about the patient’s experience. It is the
qualitative variation between different forms of active imagination that
emerge within the transference and countertransference dynamic that is the
topic of this present article.

Active imagination within the transference

As a dialogue with the unconscious, active imagination requires an ability to
comprehend metaphor. Activation of the unconscious may engender arche-
typal material and so there is some risk of inflation. There is most risk with
people suffering from borderline or potentially psychotic disturbances where
there may be some difficulty in distinguishing imagination from reality. With
Art, dreams and active imagination 137

such patients the danger of being overwhelmed by the unconscious is considerable

and so the analyst may well temporarily hold the ego position whilst the
patient lives the experience as Davidson suggests. The analyst remains calm in
the face of potentially overwhelming material and so normalizes and earths
the experience in the present. This is an important argument for embedding
active imagination within the here and now of the transference and counter-
transference dynamic.
A psychological split makes it possible for one part of the personality to live
the imagined events, dream the dream or paint the picture, whilst the other
remains detached, as an observer of the process. This split is similar to that
required in the ordinary course of analysis. This is explained by the Freudian
Greenson (1967) who divides the therapeutic relationship into three parts: the
real relationship, the therapeutic, or working alliance, and the transference. In
order to observe the transference the patient needs to be capable of forming a
therapeutic alliance with the analyst; this is an, often unspoken, agreement: to
stand beside the analyst and observe the transference. Sufficient ego strength is
needed in order to make the necessary psychological split to observe in this way.
In working with pictures in analysis, I have taken this a stage further and
shown how the art object becomes a third element in this process, embodying
a form of transference; this is the ‘scapegoat transference’ (Schaverien 1991,
1995, 1999). I am proposing that it is similar with active imagination. There
are times when active imagination may be a third element that embodies the
transference as well as expressing it. At other times the process is less intense
and the result of a more controlled psychological attitude. Before turning
to my second example, in which this latter is evident, I will discuss sign and
symbol in order to differentiate between these types of active imagination in a
little more detail.

Sign and symbol and transference

The active imagination described above was profoundly symbolic and part of
the reason for this was that it reflected the depth of engagement in the trans-
ference. Moving on from active imagination generated by visualization alone I
turn now to dreams and art. Both are multi-faceted, and I propose, function at
different psychological levels according to the nature of the engagement in the
transference. Their aesthetic impact affects the psyche of the dreamer, or artist,
as well as that of the analyst. In this way they further influence the transfer-
ence and countertransference.
Elsewhere (Schaverien 1991, 1995) I have applied Suzanne Langer’s (1957)
distinction between significant form and significant motif in art to distinguish
between categories of pictorial image. Significant motif is like a design or
embellishment; it is essentially a sign, which delineates or refers to something
outside of itself. It is a signifier or descriptor that depicts or indicates an event
or memory. Wittgenstein describes a sign by referring to a house drawn as a
138 Joy Schaverien

square on a map; it is not itself a house but indicates that here stands a house
(Wittgenstein 1980, p. 42). Thus signs remain on the surface. Significant form
is different—it is what Langer calls the ‘art symbol’; this is the work of art as a
whole. Unlike the sign, it touches depth. It stands alone as a profoundly sym-
bolic, irreducible entity that does not need the embellishment of words. There-
fore the art symbol is different from symbols in pictures, which, if regarded
without attention to the whole, are reduced to mere signs.
In considering art within analysis I have made a distinction between embod-
ied and diagrammatic imagery. Embodied imagery, like the art symbol, is
profoundly symbolic, employs visual metaphor, and as a result touches depth.
No other form of articulation can be substituted for such an image. Diagram-
matic images on the other hand are more like signs, remaining at a more
surface level, and need words to tell their story (Schaverien 1987, pp. 77–9;
1991, pp. 85–7; 1999, pp. 488–93). This is reiterated because there is a similar
distinction to be made between active imagination that touches depth and
imaginative activity that remains on the surface.
Active imagination evokes genuine psychological movement whilst milder
forms of imagining may stay nearer to the surface. As Jung puts it: ‘the symbol
is alive only so long as it is pregnant with meaning’ (Jung 1971, para. 81). It is
this symbolic depth that gives us what might be called embodied active imagin-
ation. This evokes visual or verbal metaphor and it can be articulated in no
other way. The expression, ‘it was my father’, as described above, was a pro-
foundly symbolic experience and such an event changes perception and may
transform the psychological state of the artist or dreamer.
In each of the modes that we are considering the distinction between sign and
symbol is helpful. Lived mental events are profoundly symbolic and different
from daydreaming. Ordinary, every day, or simple dreams differ from big
dreams and, with pictures, diagrammatic images differ from embodied imagery.

Active imagination
2. Dreams
Dreams per se are not active imagination but there are times when they ‘set the
psyche in motion’ (Bachelard 1964) and so generate it. Freud distinguished
simple from complex dreams (Freud 1900, pp. 101–102). Simple dreams are,
in the context of our discussion, rather like signs; they often appear to refer to
day-to-day events or day residues and they are not always profoundly symbolic.
Complex dreams on the other hand touch depth and convey their meaning
through metaphor; thus they are more like the ‘art symbol’. We might call
them, the dream symbol—an irreducible entity. Jung too distinguished different
types of dreams. The dream that was a ‘great vision, big, meaningful and of
collective importance; and . . . the ordinary small dream’ (Jung 1928/1965, p. 4).
The first is profoundly symbolic whilst the second is merely of surface interest.
Art, dreams and active imagination 139

According to Hillman (1979) and Hall (1983), Jung did not believe in a hidden
dream meaning behind the manifest dream, therefore he did not try to see
behind the disguise of the dream images. They both make the point that Jung’s
respect for the dream led him to treat dreams as the ‘facts of the psyche’. He
did not try to explain them; rather they were amplified and embellished with
associations—personal, mythical and cultural. He linked them to active imagin-
ation: ‘Dreams behave in exactly the same way as active imagination; only the
support of conscious contents is lacking’ (Jung 1934, para. 404). Mattoon
(1984) develops this theme, drawing out the links between dreams and active
imagination, in her detailed work Understanding Dreams. She explains that
Jung would try to establish the personal context of a dream and help the
patient to amplify his own dream. This might be done through associations or
by reference to metaphor and myth. This intensifies the archetypal aspects,
and therefore attention to the present context of the therapeutic relationship is
important. It is this that earths the material and brings it into the realm of
consciousness.
It is obvious to state that dreaming takes place when the dreamer is asleep
but as it is this that distinguishes dreams from visualized mental images and
from pictures it merits a mention. In dreams previously unconscious material
may arise spontaneously and without directed attention. A dream may be
described, but it is impossible to show someone else a dream; it is essentially
private. Like a visualization, dreams differ from pictures, in that they are
intangible, elusive and ephemeral whilst pictures have a concrete and material
presence.
It is important to reiterate the point that not all visualizations, dreams or pic-
tures lead to active imagination. Material that appears to stem from the uncon-
scious cannot be automatically regarded as active imagination5. It is the patients’
attitude to their own material that may develop into active imagination but s/he
has to participate. Not everyone can do this; some people are too consciously
controlled. Then the analyst may become interested in a dream presented but,
whilst the dreamer may appear gratified by the analyst’s interest, there may be
little apparent understanding of the authorship of the dream. The dreamer may
have to learn to relate to their material before psychological movement can
become possible. This was the case with my second example.

Vignette 2
Ian’s development had been one-sided, favouring consciousness. In his life
there had been little space for imagination; he had been sent to boarding

5
This comment does demand some definition of the unconscious because it could be argued that
unconscious material remains just that. However material that was previously unknown to the
dreamer that comes to the light of understanding through a dream or art work undergoes a transi-
tion from unknown to known.
140 Joy Schaverien

school at the age of six and this had been followed by a successful professional
army career. This was highly structured and required much of him intellec-
tually but the emotional impact of his work, which had at times been consider-
able, had been ignored. Now aged 60 he was retired. Ian was an intelligent
man with wide interests and knowledge but he was emotionally inarticulate.
This is typical of the person who has been sent to boarding school at an early
age (Duffell 2000; Schaverien 2004). Although he was clearly very sensitive he
appeared to be puzzled by emotions and did not recognize them in himself. He
came to see me because his wife had had counselling and found it useful and
she was concerned that he did not speak about his feelings.
In the first session I asked him what had brought him to the point of phon-
ing me. He could not respond—‘that is the problem’, he said. Ian sat in the
chair in my consulting room and having told me this, there was an uncomfortable
silence, he could not think of what to say next. Over the weeks that followed,
I found that I was often breaking the silence in order to try to help him in his
evident discomfort. The sessions were inordinately painful as he sat in the
chair unable to speak or know what was expected of him. Then one day he
said that he had had a dream and wondered if he should tell it to me. This was
the first of many. He dreamed either the night before the weekly session or the
night after it. It seemed that the unconscious, activated by his dreams, had
come to his rescue so that he would have something to talk about in the next
session.
In these early dreams he was often searching in empty houses or in buildings
that reminded him of his school. Gradually we pieced together aspects of his
story so that we could begin to relate his dreams to his history. Born during
the war he had lived alone with his mother until he was six, at which point his
father returned from the war and he was sent to boarding school. He had little
memory of the vacations or his time at home between the ages of 6 and 14. It
seemed that the trauma of his father’s appearance, along with the simultan-
eous perceived abandonment by his mother, had left him without memory of
that period in his life. This seemed to be replayed in the transference; he was
rendered inarticulate in the presence of the analyst/mother.
During the early phase of analysis Ian dreamed prolifically and often
appeared puzzled by the sense I made of his dreams. At first it was I who
seemed impressed with his dreams, whilst he seemed amused by the
outrageous links that I made. Much of what happened in the room was to do
with the analyst picking up non-verbal signals and speaking about them. Ian
seemed to find it odd speaking to a strange woman about intimate things.
However he came every week on time and there was an element of humour in
the therapeutic alliance. Very gradually, he became familiar with attending to
his dreams. Then he had what seemed to be a ‘big’ dream.

Ian dreamed that he was in a library and found some rare books. One was the com-
plete works of Evelyn Waugh, one C. S. Lewis and one was an illustrated religious
Art, dreams and active imagination 141

book. This latter was an elaborately decorated, ancient, manuscript. He described,

with a sense of delight, how on one side of the page were all the kings and queens of
England and on the other side all the kings and queens of France.

At first Ian did not have many associations to it except that he had a library,
where he spent much time, and that he collected rare books. The three books
were all clearly meaningful for him. However it was not easy for him to
convey this in words. As we discussed the possibilities we wondered about
Evelyn Waugh. The word Waugh could also be understood to link to the
word war, and this might link to the opposites represented by the two coun-
tries England and France. C.S. Lewis was meaningful to Ian because of his
religious affinity. However it was the third book that drew his attention and
mine. He was delighted and slightly awed by this beautiful, embellished, reli-
gious book almost as if he had actually discovered it. Clearly he had found
something of extreme value to himself that was symbolized by this dream
book.
We discussed how the two sides of the page might be seen as aspects of
himself, which needed to move into relation with each other. On one side the
English, on the other the French; on one side the familiar, on the other the
foreign. This could be thought of as a division between conscious and uncon-
scious. The fact that the book presented him with royalty—kings and
queens—gave it added import. We might see his boarding school and army life
as having imposed on him a psychological gender split, as well as a division
between logos and eros. Thus the opposites, symbolized by the kings and
queens, needed to come into relation with each other. The fact that the book
was beautifully embellished, delighted and slightly awed the dreamer. This
indicated that it was a ‘big dream’: one that would not easily be forgotten. In
itself this reflects the potential for psychological change. Although the dream
was discussed it was not readily translatable in terms of his history nor could it
be fully understood. The facts of the psyche merely presented themselves for
attention. Like the art symbol this dream was much more than the sum of its
parts. It was a dream symbol—an irreducible entity. It impressed the dreamer
profoundly. The dream had symbolic depth and metaphorical significance; it
was in Jung’s words ‘pregnant with meaning’. Thus previously frozen imagin-
ative capacity began to become active. The dream itself was not active imagin-
ation but it did ‘set the psyche in motion’ and give Ian an understanding of
how he might begin to dialogue with the unconscious.
Ian began to interpret his own dreams and so began to develop awareness of
his emotional life. Over time he became less uncomfortable in the room, began
to relax and to talk and, as this happened, his dreams lessened in frequency
and complexity. It seems that when there is a need for it the psyche will find a
way of making unconscious contents conscious. Then active imagination may
first be generated by dreams. In this case the dreams activated the psyche,
showing Ian that, unconsciously, he knew why he had come for analysis. It
142 Joy Schaverien

seemed that once he was able to talk he needed his dreams less. Jung noted
something similar when he made the point that:
The existence of unrealized unconscious fantasies increases the frequency and inten-
sity of dreams, and when these fantasies are made conscious the dreams change their
character and become weaker and less frequent. From this I have drawn the conclu-
sion that dreams often contain fantasies, which ‘want’ to become conscious.

(Jung 1936/37, para. 101)

An example from several years later further makes the point that Ian had
learned to respect his own imaginative material. Probably as the result of the
earlier dreams and the associations that had developed in relation to them, he
was now able to bear more uncertainty. Ian experienced a dream that was a
powerful example of synchronicity. This is the acausal connecting principle of
the psyche, about which Jung (1951b) wrote.
Ian dreamed he was in the House of Lords [to which in his real life he had access as
part of his job]. He was on his way to the library and he passed a room with five
men in it. These men were his friends in real life and they were playing a game
together in which they were standing in a circle and jumping up and down. One of
them saw him and signalled to him to join them but he had other business to attend
to and so he went on his way.

When he awoke he was so mystified that he had dreamed about this old friend
whom he had not seen for some time that he remarked on it to his wife. He
was therefore shocked when, as he read the newspaper that morning, he came
across the obituary of this very friend, the one who had signalled to him. He
had died the previous day.
Before a dream event, such as this, even the most sceptical person is left with
questions. There is no rationale that sufficiently explains it although there are
some possible interpretations. The ‘House of Lords’ as the location seems sig-
nificant; it might indicate the ‘Lord’s House’ and so a place associated with
death. However it is also a real place and he was heading for the library where
he had business to attend to. We might see Ian as moving on from the point-
less game in which his friends were engaged to more important matters. It will
be recalled that a library featured in his earlier dream alongside the profound
significance of the beautiful embellished book that he found. Earlier that book
was discussed as a self-image, therefore the significance of the library seems to
relate to a quest for the self—he had more important work to attend to. Perhaps
in the dream Ian ignored the distraction offered by his friends because he was
keeping focused on his own psychological journey. However this does not take
account of the ‘uncanny’ element, Ian dreaming of his friend just prior to
discovering that the same friend had died. In a case like this the facts of the
psyche have to just take their place in our life and we have to remain in an
unknowing state about how such a thing occurs. I would argue that this could
not be satisfactorily analysed solely in terms of the personal unconscious.
Art, dreams and active imagination 143

This was a remarkable dream but a dream is not itself active imagination.
However it is likely that the dreamer was open to this strange event as a result
of the mobilization of the psyche that had previously taken place and so he
was able to accept it with wonder. Perhaps, as a result of the psychotherapy,
his capacity for active imagination had developed and therefore his trust in
‘not knowing’ had increased.
In the beginning Ian’s transference revealed that the capacity for fantasy and
imagining was paralysed, probably as a result of his early traumatic experi-
ences. The apparent non-engagement in the therapeutic relationship therefore
was the transference. During the course of the analysis there was movement
from the initial dreams, which remained on the surface, to the profoundly
moving kings and queens’ dream, and then to the library in the House of
Lords, which resonated at depth. A more fluid relationship to his inner world
gradually developed, through a deepening trust in the therapeutic relationship.
In this case it was dreams that set the psyche in motion evoking movement
from surface to depth. It is this depth experience that might be understood as
the emergence of the capacity for active imagination.

Active imagination
3. Art
I turn now to the third and last of the three modes of creative expression under
discussion: art. One of the most important papers that Jung wrote with regard
to active imagination is ‘The transcendent function’ (Jung 1916/1960). The
transcendent function is the bridge between conscious and unconscious. In this
the mediating function of dreams and spontaneously created imagery plays a
significant role. Jung wrote of art as active imagination that:
Often it is necessary to clarify a vague content by giving it visible form. This can be
done by drawing, painting or modelling. Often the hands know how to solve a riddle
with which the intellect has wrestled in vain. By shaping it, one goes on dreaming the
dream in greater detail in the waking state, and the initially incomprehensible,
isolated event is integrated into the sphere of the total personality, even though it
remains at first unconscious to the subject.

(Jung 1916/1960, para. 180)

Direct interpretation of a dream or a picture may destroy the life in the image
and so we need to find ways of talking around it—befriending it. Jung writes
of two kinds of thinking which he calls ‘directed thinking, and dreaming or
fantasy thinking’ (Jung 1956, para. 20). The former applies to communication
in words and language and the latter is spontaneous and guided by uncon-
scious motives; it is this latter that emerges in dreams and pictorial images. To
approach such imagery directly, with the intention of translating it into words
is to limit its potential rather than enhance it. This is where amplification of
144 Joy Schaverien

the image is so important (Moore 1986). This is a way of using ‘mythic,

historical, and cultural parallels to clarify and make ample the metaphorical
content of dream symbolism’ (Samuels et al. 1986, p. 16).
Unlike visualization and dreams, art has a tangible and material existence. It
records traces of the imaginal activity that produced it. Moreover it holds, and
fixes, at once moving and limiting the flow of the unconscious. In art there is a
public manifestation and a shared viewing; both people see the same thing;
there is an object for the shared gaze of the spectators. This is a significant fac-
tor within analysis because unlike other modes of active imagination the traces
of its path are recorded for both people to see. In his discussion of the develop-
ment of the theory of archetypes Jung reveals how central to his thinking was
the art form within active imagination:
First I made the observations, and only then did I hammer out my views. And so it is
with the hand that guides the crayon or brush, the foot that executes the dance-step,
with the eye and the ear, with the word and the thought: a dark impulse is the ultimate
arbiter of the pattern, an unconscious a priori precipitates itself into a plastic form . . .

(Jung 1947, para. 402)6

It is this unconscious a priori that is sometimes revealed in the embodied

images described earlier (Schaverien 1991, 1995). Attention to the aesthetic
qualities of pictures made in analysis reveals much about the process of active
imagination and this is why the product is as important as the process.
Dieckmann (1971) comments on the aesthetic qualities of a series of objects
made by an analysand. He describes vividly the ways in which they formed a
part of the active imaginative process. However the assumption appears to be that
art and active imagination is one and the same thing. This present article is an
attempt to distinguish them, as well as the particular nature of different forms
of active imagination. In this the aesthetic quality of the work is significant.
Whilst some pictures or art works are powerful examples of active imagination,
others are not; similarly, not all art is symbolic articulation.
As explained earlier, in considering the aesthetic qualities of art made in
analysis I have identified two categories of pictorial image. The first, the
diagrammatic image is like a sign. Such an image is of little aesthetic interest
and its role in the transference is as a signifier in that it refers to something

6
The discussion of this controversial claim that the archetypes are based on an a priori pattern
has been the subject of much heated discussion in Jungian circles recently. See Stevens, Peitikanen,
Knox in this Journal. Can archetypal patterns be a priori and what does this mean? The pictures
made in analysis bear out the idea that there is a commonality in the imagery produced across
cultures but the question of how that might be transmitted remains. It is too little to attribute all
such imagery totally to culture, although it will account for a large part of it. It may be that there
is a form of intergenerational transmission that transcends culture. For example how do we
account for a child that never knew their mother having gestures and mannerisms just like the
mother? I consider that these questions need to remain open despite the increasingly convincing
explanations for its origins in brain function and culture.
Art, dreams and active imagination 145

outside of itself. It may be made to tell something to the therapist and needs
words to embellish its meaning. For example if I draw a picture (Figure 1):

Figure 1

This tells you that I feel sad but it does not change anything, it is a surface
expression that is made to tell something to the therapist. It may evoke
emotion in relation to it but making the picture does not alter the psychologi-
cal state of the artist; it is not a depth experience. This picture is unlikely to be
the result of active imagination, as it remains on the surface. However associ-
ations in relation to the image might lead to active imagination.
The embodied image is different because, in the process of its creation,
something changes. Such a picture may reveal far more than the artist
consciously intended. The image may be aesthetically pleasing and profoundly
symbolic and this may evoke an ‘aesthetic countertransference’ (Schaverien
1995, 1999). Like the ‘art symbol’ (Langer 1957) no other mode of articula-
tion could convey its meaning. This may be why it is that formulae, such as the
traditional model of picture interpretation discussed by Rosen and his
colleagues (Rosen et al. 2003) and Furth (1988), may be less helpful than is
sometimes assumed. Such a method restricts the imaginative capacity of the
psyche by reducing it to a predictable set of rules. In order to convey a sense of
active imagination through a series of related experiences I turn now to my
final example. A dream followed by a series of embodied images, reveals active
imagination in motion through different modes of expression. I hope to show
how the process of active imagination generates series of images that could not
have been articulated in any other way.

Vignette 3
Jacqui’s mother had died suddenly, in her late fifties, when Jacqui was 22. Now
Jacqui was in her early fifties but she still felt oppressed by her mother. The
internalized mother dominated her every move and denigrated her attempts to
work or make relationships. It was a dream that first ‘set the psyche in motion’
and revealed just how dominated Jacqui was by this inner world mother.
There were two people in a room; the dreamer was an observer (a third person).
A small dog entered, it grew smaller and it seemed to be dying. Jacqui witnessed this
but was unable to intervene. She then realized, for the first time that the people were
a man and a woman. The female figure stepped forward with a metal brief case; she
scooped the dog into it and it snapped shut. This terrified the dreamer.
146 Joy Schaverien

In the telling she made a new connection; she remembered her mother had
such a briefcase. The little dog therefore seemed to be a self–image. It seemed
that Jacqui felt trapped, locked inside the mother’s case (body) and unable to
survive separately.
A picture made one month into the analysis further, and graphically, reveals
the power of the presence of the dominating, dead mother. The picture, a
landscape, was made after Jacqui returned from a holiday in Egypt where she
had travelled in a boat down the Nile. On her return, she remained so
impressed by the landscape that she had painted it. However she did not show
the picture to me until nearly a year after making it. The transference to her
mother was manifest when she told me about it and also in the way, when she
did bring it, that she prefaced showing it by explaining: ‘This is not art therapy
and I am not an artist’. This was said in a manner, of some deference, which
seemed to imply ‘you must not judge me too harshly’.

Picture 1

She then showed me picture 1 and explained that the river is in the fore-
ground and the irrigated fertile land is next to the water. Then behind that, in
the background, is the desert, which is made of hilly sand dunes, looking a bit
like mountains. In the foreground is a boat. As she spoke the picture lay before
us on the ground and I noticed with an intense, and almost physical, shock
that the sand dunes seemed to suggest a figure. It looked to me like a huge
corpse dominating the landscape. This seemed to fit with the sense I had of her
mother’s all pervading presence. This Egyptian mummy appeared to be the
Mummy of Jacqui: dead but dominating her inner world landscape. (Inciden-
tally Jacqui always called her mother Mummy.).
I did not immediately point this out to Jacqui as she was showing me a
landscape and I did not want to impose what may have been merely my own
viewpoint. However the image persisted and grew stronger, dominating the
rest of the session for me. Therefore I decided to point it out to her, merely
suggesting that the sand dunes looked to me like a body. Jacqui was visibly
shocked when she saw it and immediately changed the subject. It was several
Art, dreams and active imagination 147

sessions before she was able to return to this image. This echoed the way that
she would react if material about her mother surfaced in other ways. She was,
as she put it, ‘scared to touch it’. Gradually she was able to admit that she
could see the picture and its implications.
Over time we discussed it and together we began to make the following
sense of it. This image seemed to reveal the archetypal background to her life.
The elements in the picture could be understood in the following way: the
journey down the river might be the flow of her life’s journey. The irrigated
part, closest to the river, was the area where things were functioning well for
her; Jacqui’s job and present family life were satisfactory in many ways. How-
ever her life was overshadowed by her general sense of depression and this was
echoed and embodied in the image of the sand dunes. The sand dunes revealed
an immense and overpowering figure which, in this context, could be under-
stood to be an archetypal negative maternal presence. This was emphasized by
the boat which resembles a scythe—often a symbol of death—the dead
mother. She could only regard it fleetingly and then put it away again. It was a
long time before this picture became de-potentiated so that she could look at it
without the shudder of fear that greeted each new viewing of it.
In order to consider the picture as an embodied image it is worth asking one-
self the question ‘Could this be conveyed in any other way?’ With the diagram-
matic image the answer would be ‘yes’, like a sign it would demand some extra
verbal explanation. However before an embodied image, such as this, the answer
is ‘No’. No words could adequately convey the symbolic depth that is attained
through this image—there is little that can be said that would not detract from
the impact of the image. The picture is its own interpretation and words spoken
in relation to it could not add anything significant. In this sense it is a product of
active imagination within an intensely experienced transference.’where the ana-
lyst was often experienced as a dominating, feared maternal presence.
This embodied image was also a visual interpretation (Schaverien 1995,
p. 166). In order to develop this idea a little I turn again to Wittgenstein (1922)
who describes types of seeing that are relevant in this context. He distinguishes
what he calls ‘continuous seeing’ of an aspect from the ‘dawning of an aspect’
Wittgenstein (1958, p. 194). He shows the well-known diagram, which can first
be seen as a duck’s head and subsequently as that of a rabbit (Figure 2).

Figure 2
148 Joy Schaverien

The picture remains the same but something changes that permits us to see
both at once. The difference is a perceptual one. First we have ‘continuous
seeing’, we see the picture as a duck but when it has also been seen as a rabbit,
the other aspect has dawned. Then it is no longer possible to merely view the
picture as a single thing—it constantly flips between the two.
This is like the impact of an interpretation in analysis. Once an interpreta-
tion has been made and the unconscious significance has become conscious
something is known and a perceptual transformation takes place. When pictures
are involved in analysis there is a more obvious similarity to Wittgenstein’s
example. Here a picture, made consciously to depict one thing, is transformed
by our perception into something else. This has the effect of an interpretation
but without words. It was thus with the picture of Jacqui’s mother. By paint-
ing the landscape that she had so enjoyed Jacqui had, quite inadvertently,
revealed something profound of her inner world. This image embodied the
source of her depression and, once seen it could never again be unseen. Active
imagination is evident here, not merely in the act of painting, but in the asso-
ciations to the image. This experience set in motion a series of pictures, made
over the following months.
Picture 2 is of a tree, which she described as showing her chaos, insecurity
and depression on one side, and the lively part of her life on the other. It shows
the distorted growth that had emerged as a result of her parental domination
and lack of autonomy. The dominating mother had a brother who was
‘simple’ and who was never really able to function in the world. The family
viewed him as rather pathetic and hopeless. At times he was admitted to the
local psychiatric hospital for in-patient treatment. Jacqui loved him but
her fear of her own vulnerability was at times associated with her uncle and
at worst she feared that she was mad. This sense of her own vulnerability,
associated with the flaw in her family, emerged as a dark area in many of her
paintings.

Picture 2
Art, dreams and active imagination 149

Picture 3

In a session, soon after an insight that connected her fear of madness with
her beloved uncle she made picture 3, another a painting of a tree. It was an
image of growth and she explained how one colour represented the warmth of
her feelings for her uncle. The tree had strong roots and branches, but a dark
patch, which she felt indicated her relationship to her parents, was like a flaw
that ran throughout it.
As we looked at the picture a wasp flew into the room. I was distracted by it
and she offered to kill it, saying ‘I am not averse to killing wasps’. Then she
recalled that her uncle had a plum tree and her father offered to help him to
harvest the fruit. She was about 8, and remembered sitting in the branches of
the tree eating plums, and killing wasps, whilst her father and uncle worked
together. This was a rare and precious happy memory of her relationship with
these two men: her father and her uncle. Symbolically it seemed to integrate
the vulnerable uncle with the image of her father and a positive aspect of her
‘killing wasps’ aggression.
This was memory rather than strictly active imagination but it was gener-
ated by the act of painting the tree. The amplification of the material related to
the pictures seemed to lead to significant psychological shifts. This was active
imagination in that it was achieved through a lowering of consciousness and
kind of diffuse viewing, which permitted previously unconscious material to
emerge. Moreover, within the transference, her offer to kill the wasp could be
understood to have indicated her ability to take charge and to find autonomy.
Perhaps this occurred through identification with a benign image of the paternal:
the combined father and uncle image that permitted her to indulge in eating
plums and killing wasps.

Conclusion
It has been my intention to distinguish active imagination from other forms
of imaginative activity. I have shown how visualized imagery, dreams and
150 Joy Schaverien

pictorial images have their own distinct nature. Within the transference
and countertransference dynamic there is a difference when these are merely
imaginative acts and those times when they manifest as, or evoke, active
imagination.
Active imagination, experienced as visualization, may be very real and may
have a compelling life of its own. Like dreams, such experiences are totally
subjective and, no matter how real, they are ultimately elusive, transient and
can only be communicated if translated into the shared medium of spoken
language. There is no public manifestation of an imagined event. However
visualizations and dreams can sometimes be conveyed in pictures and, unlike
mental imagery or dreams, art objects have a real, concrete, existence in the
public arena. A picture is an object offered for the shared gaze and therefore it
may be a bridge between inner and outer, between private and public experience.
I hope to have shown how the process of experiencing active imagination, and
the products created through it, are significant; they affect and are influenced
by the transference and the countertransference.

TRANSLATIONS OF ABSTRACT

Le terme imagination active est parfois utilisé de façon plutôt indéterminée pour décrire
toutes formes d’activité créatrice dans la psychologie des profondeurs. Bien qu’il y ait
en effet de nombreuses formes d’expression qui activent ou sont activées par l’imagin-
ation active, celles-ci ne peuvent pas pour autant être automatiquement classées comme
étant de l’imagination active. L’article explore le rêve éveillé, les rêves nocturnes et les
productions artistiques faisant apparaître trois formes d’activité psychologique basée
sur la production d’image. Il est avancé que l’engagement dans l’imagination active,
lorsqu’il est intégré dans et médiatisé par la dynamique du transfert et contre transfert,
reflète et est influencé par le transfert. Les distinctions faites entre signe et symbole,
rêves simples et grands rêves, imagerie schématique ou appliquée permettent de clarifier
les différences. Des exemples cliniques sont utilisés pour montrer chaque mode en
action dans le cadre analytique.

Der Begriff Aktive Imagination wird manchmal ziemlich unkritisch angewendet, um

alle möglichen Formen kreativer Aktivität zu beschreiben, die in der Tiefenpsycho-
logie angewendet werden. Wenn es auch viele Ausdrucksformen gibt, welche die
Aktive Imagination hervorrufen, oder von ihr hervorgerufen werden, so kann man
sie doch nicht automatisch als Aktive Imagination einstufen. In diesem Artikel zeigt
die Untersuchung von vorgestellten mentalen Bildern, Träumen und Kunst drei
unterschiedene Formen psychischer Aktivität, die auf bildlichem Ausdruck beruhen.
Integriert und vermittelt innerhalb der Übertragungs- und Gegenübertragungsd
ynamik, wird vermutet, dass die Beschäftigung mit Aktiver Imagination die Übertra-
gung reflektiert und durch sie beeinflusst wird. Besonderheiten von Zeichen und
Symbol, einfachen und großen Träumen, ebenso von diagrammatischen und verkör-
perten Bildern verdeutlichen die Unterschiede. Beispiele aus der klinischen Praxis
Art, dreams and active imagination 151

geben einen lebendigen Eindruck der unterschiedlichen Modi innerhalb des

analytischen Rahmens.

Il termine immaginazione attiva è a volte utilizzato in modo acritico per descrivere tutte
le forme di attività creative che trovano posto nella psicologia del profondo. Mentre ci
sono molte forme espressive che evocano o vengono evocate dall’immaginazione attiva,
queste non possono essere automaticamente classificate come immaginazione attiva. In
questo articolo l’indagine sull’immagine mentalmente visualizzata, sui sogni e sull’arte
rivela tre distinte forme di attività psicologica basata sull’immagine. Integrata e mediata
all’interno della dinamica transferale e controtransferale, si ipotizza che l’impiego
dell’immaginazione attiva riflette il transfert ed è da esso influenzato. Le differenze
vengono chiarite facendo distinzioni tra segno e simbolo, tra sogni semplici e grandi
sogni e anche tra immagini diagrammatiche e incarnate. Esempi tratti dalla pratica
clinica dimostrano come ciascun modo agisca all’interno della cornice analitica.

El término imaginación activa se usa con frecuencia en indiscriminadamente para

describir todas las formas creativas que ocurren en psicología profunda. Aun cuando
hay muchas formas expresivas que evocan o son evocadas por la imaginación activa,
ellas no pueden ser clasificadas automáticamente como imaginación activa. En este artí-
culo la investigación de la imaginería visual mental, sueño y arte revela tres maneras
distintas de la actividad psicológica basada en la imagen. Integrada y mediada dentro
de la dinámica de la transferencia y la contratransferencia, se propone que la conexión
con la imaginación activa refleja y es influenciada por la transferencia. La distinción
entre signo y símbolo, pequeños y grandes sueños así como entre imaginería diagramá-
tica y corporeizada clarifican las diferencias. Con ejemplos de la práctica clínica se
demuestran los modos de acción dentro del marco analítico.

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[MS first received July 2003; final version July 2004]