What the art room showed me
A note on this piece: This essay describes observations from an art session I ran at a senior community. Names have been changed, and identifying details have been altered or composited across multiple residents to protect the privacy of the individuals involved. I am not a clinician, and nothing in this essay should be read as medical or therapeutic advice.
I’d been volunteering with neurodivergent children at a local hospital for several months. I had learned several new concepts through this experience, and I wondered what it would be like at the other end of the age spectrum. I reached out to a few senior centers in our community and was grateful for the opportunity to conduct an art activity with the residents at one of the centers.
I was fretting about all the arrangements the night before, they had to be easy to use but also had to challenge the residents sufficiently. All the supplies were packed, the activities decided, note cards made, and I showed up twenty minutes early, completely expecting to walk into an empty room. I was greeted by a packed and eager audience ready to begin. This was my first shock. I quickly set up the equipment, pulled out my notes and started explaining the activity to the residents when a lady stopped me and pointed out that most residents did not speak English and that Mandarin was the first language for several folks. This was my second shock.
It was all starting to slide downhill. I took a deep breath, opened Google Translate on my phone, and started all over again. I supported the translations with exaggerated gestures. Slowly but surely, interest came back, there was animated conversation, haggling over the supplies with everyone wanting the same colors, scant disregard for instructions provided - the activity was to paint a greeting card on the front, but many people opened the card and painted inside as well. If someone closed their eyes, they’d think they were at a daycare with small children fighting over the same crayons!
As I read up on this topic, it was clear that the brain's dopaminergic reward system fired up in anticipation of the activity, explaining the packed room. A recurring, predictable activity gives older adults a scheduled focus for anticipation — which is itself a form of cognitive engagement. Many residents were showing physical challenges, but for the most part no one displayed any cognitive decline. It was clear that sensory and motor systems age at different rates from cognitive systems. A person whose hands shake or whose eyes have dimmed may still have full curiosity and judgment. The two aging processes are neurologically separate. I had been quite amused by everyone wanting the same colors, but I learned that the mirror neuron system is active throughout life, not only in childhood. Wanting what someone else wants is a deep social behavior that persists into old age — because belonging is a lifelong biological need, not a developmental phase. Lastly, structured tasks with narrow constraints activate the prefrontal cortex differently than open-ended creative choices. Given the option, the aging brain often prefers to expand rather than constrain — reflecting a lifetime of developed personal expression, something that was on ample display as most residents painted the entire card and not just the front.
But beyond the science this had to be one of the most fulfilling activities I had ever done. One of the residents wrote my name in Mandarin and gave me the card with a big smile. Another was reminded of her years working in a daycare carrying out similar activities with the children in her class; hesitant at first, she was very proud of what she’d made. A young couple were visiting their mother and asked if she could join the next time. I left the center grateful for the opportunity but also sure that I would be back soon.
This essay reflects my personal observations and interpretation as a volunteer facilitator, informed by my ongoing study of neuroscience. It is not affiliated with, endorsed by, or reviewed by any senior community, healthcare provider, or academic institution. Any resident described has been anonymised. Readers seeking guidance about supporting an older adult in their own life should consult a qualified professional.
