Lifestyle
Why I rejected the “neutral” aesthetics of therapy rooms
You’ve (finally) made an appointment with a therapist. Just getting the appointment took some legwork. This is an in-person appointment, so you walk from the nearest metro station, or step out of the ride share, or park your car. If you’re really fortunate, you were able to walk there. You arrive to the therapist’s office, perhaps anxious, flustered, maybe numb.
What do you see when you walk in?
You might enter a lobby. It might be windowless. Neutral carpeting, overhead lighting. There might be a bank of small buttons on the wall, and with one press, the button signals to the therapist in the room that you’ve arrived. That’s old school, though. You might enter an old apartment building that’s been rezoned for offices with no waiting room to speak of. Or you might enter directly from the street into an office, without the pacifying liminal space of a waiting room.
As a client of therapists in Los Angeles (one Jungian analyst in a big Westside office building, another in a home office in my neighborhood — and yes, I got to walk there), and as a therapist myself, I’m often thinking about The Room. The fantasy of the contemporary therapy room is often based on images planted by pop culture: The dark wood paneling and furniture of Dr. Melfi’s office in “The Sopranos” comes to mind, or the most recent season of the L.A.-based home office of “In Treatment,” with its distinctive view of the city and its well-appointed and colorful interior. Between just these two shows, one can see how the therapy space and how we perceive it is subtly changing.
I am not a “neutral” therapist, and so my self-designed therapy room is not a neutral, or beige, space.
The first office where I sought therapy was in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. I took an elevator and approached a door with frosted glass. The building was historical and aptly named the Security Building. I was in my early 20s. It was in that office where I began untangling some of my own history, much of which would later appear in my first book. My weekly processing of the past eventually migrated to another building when my therapist moved her practice to a house rezoned for offices in a residential neighborhood. Both locations served as a particular kind of refuge, places where I came to new understandings and occasional epiphanies. In each office, I sat across from my counselor on a couch, held in a space that she created.
“If the unconscious is structured like a language, the design of a therapist’s consulting room is also a language,” Deborah Levy writes in a recent Granta essay. As a writer/therapist, I can appreciate this — including when Levy later notes that therapy rooms are “often beige” and that even if the “room’s mood attempts to be entirely neutral, someone has art-directed its blandness.” When I think of the various therapy rooms I worked in as an associate therapist in a busy community clinic, I recall the attention to having a somewhat blank canvas across many rooms, that each could be outfitted with donated furniture, random books and an occasional piece of art. If you’ve been in therapy for as many years as I have, you probably recognize this blandness.
Up until the 1980s, there was not as much attention given to the decor of the room where patients/clients met. In the U.S. in the early ’90s, elements such as windows, plants and even aquariums were considered choices that might serve as symbolic material for the client. And with the easing of the concept of the therapist as “a blank slate,” shifts have continued to occur in therapy room decor. Where there was once an insistence on an impersonal space, there is now an acknowledgment that the therapist does not have to cloak their identity in a benign anonymity.
I am not a “neutral” therapist, and so my self-designed therapy room is not a neutral, or beige, space. In 2021, more than a year after I had stopped seeing clients in person in rented offices due to the pandemic, I had the opportunity to furnish and decorate my own home office. I thought about how best to create a container — a place where someone would cross the threshold and feel. Therapy can obviously generate loads of feelings, but the best container allows the client to feel it all, in a safe, comfortable environment.
In an episode of “Conan O’Brien Must Go,” O’Brien, dressed as Freud in a wig, fake beard and suit, visits the Freud Museum in Austria. O’Brien, gamely holding a cigar, introduces the museum director, who begins by noting that Freud’s office couch is actually housed in London. Upon hearing this, O’Brien abruptly leaves the room. Since The Couch is not in the Freud Museum, O’Brien returns to the room and does a whole bit using a blow-up mattress.
When I was buying a couch for my own therapy office, I did not think of The Couch. I did, however, think about the various therapy offices I’ve sat or reclined in. There was crying, complaining, dissociating and even laughing on those couches. No particular couch sticks in my memory, so perhaps these were neutral couches awaiting my emotions to spill out over them. When I try to remember sitting across from my therapists in their respective offices, I do remember whether there was carpet or wood floor under my feet, what the bookshelves in the room offered, and whether or not the lighting was natural, lamps or overhead.
Before I designed my own office space, I met my most recent therapist in a room of her home. The bookshelves in the room were a rich mix of cookbooks and psychology books. Occasionally my therapist would have a delicious-smelling soup on simmer in another part of the house — not a design choice, but a pleasant sensory experience in the background. When the pandemic forced us to meet outdoors, her back patio, with its tiled floor, pergola and garden became the room (albeit one with occasional mosquitoes).
My therapy office is a 350-square-foot ADU behind my home. When a client enters, the first thing they see is a glass door with a bright yellow frame and behind it, a large monstera plant, which has grown along with them session by session. On the wall behind the couch where clients sit, I hung a tapestry that features a sun rising over an abstract landscape of pinks and yellows. Since the tapestry is in my eye line as I face clients, I think of it as a constant reminder that each person sitting in front of me has the potential to feel renewal and the possibility of change on a continual basis. The blinds on the east-facing window filter in natural light. From where my client sits on a slate blue couch, their eye might fall on the hanging bookshelves, where I’ve placed a few select volumes, such as the therapy-favorite “Waking the Tiger” by Peter Levine, as well as a few unexpected titles, like “Love in a F—Up World” by Dean Spade, and “Grapefruit” by Yoko Ono.
My therapy room is, quite literally, an extension of my home. Far from an institutional feel, the room’s colors, lighting and furnishings are meant to elicit a sense of warmth, connection and solace.
Above the book shelf is another shelf with more whimsical items: a container of various sea animal toys, for an imagined future where I offer clients sand play, as well as two varieties of cat tarot card decks. My desk, where I perch my phone atop a stack of old and new psychology tomes to see remote clients via Zoom, is its own sacred space: orange and blue dishes of honey and orange calcite, abalone shells, a stub of palo santo, and a deer figurine that reminds me of the animal images I conjured as a client doing the work of EMDR. A Himalayan salt lamp emits a soft orange light.
My therapy room is, quite literally, an extension of my home. Far from an institutional feel, the room’s colors, lighting and furnishings are meant to elicit a sense of warmth, connection and solace. And like my home, the language of this room wants to invite and beckon. It can hold the spectrum of emotions evoked in therapy, as well as the silences.
A common refrain we return to in therapy is that “everything is temporary.” Change is constant. In my ideal therapy room, plants live in the room when no one else is in it. Seasonal flowers are brought in, and when they die, composted. The scent of coffee or chai might linger. A client’s fingers might clutch a smooth black onyx, or a jagged rose quartz, or tissues. We are changed, both client and therapist, in the process. As my clients embark on the private journey that is therapy, in a room thoughtfully arranged to contain everything, the room itself is the reliable axis around which meaningful and deep changes can occur.
Wendy C. Ortiz is the author of three books and is a therapist in private practice in Los Angeles.
Lifestyle
L.A. Affairs: After getting dumped at 46 by a cheater, could I ever find love again?
Editor’s note: A version of this story, performed by the author, won the L.A. Affairs Live storytelling event on April 3.
I am engaged. Which I didn’t think would ever happen.
In my 40s, I was in love with someone. We lived together and had been together for seven years. I thought that would be my last relationship. Then he broke up with me, and I was suddenly dumped at 46. I was terrified that would be my last relationship.
I don’t know if you’ve ever had the experience of being single in L.A. in your late 40s, but I don’t recommend it. None out of 10. All the thumbs down. It felt like missing the last helicopter out of ’Nam, as if I were running after couplehood as bombs went off around me and yelling, “Nnnnnooooooooooo!!” And I could add, “I know it’s not working out but don’t gggggooooooooo!!!” as I reached with all I had to not be left behind.
I felt I had to concede: “Well, die alone it is, then.”
I know a relationship isn’t the answer to everything. But I felt so abandoned. It was scary, and I fell apart. My fall was cushioned by lots of Dominos and DoorDash. But still, I fell, and it hurt.
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Laura House performs at the first L.A. Affairs Live, a Los Angeles Times storytelling competition.
Eventually, I put myself back together and tried again. I got on the apps. We all know the dating apps. That’s where you go on a website and make up a lot of lies to trick someone into loving you.
I had used them off and on for years and I always lied. Not even to misrepresent myself. I just didn’t know what to say. What did guys want to hear? What would catch their eye in a sexy little headline? I figured guys liked “Star Wars.” So for a long time, my sexy little headline was: “Han shot first.” I wasn’t entirely sure what it meant, but I have a cute, nerdy guy friend who says it. It seemed meaningful to him, so I gave it a shot. I might as well have written “Just love me!!!” I tried to cast a wide net.
But this time when I started dating, I decided to be honest and not out of any kind of virtue. Frankly, I felt too old and tired to find a game to play, and I recommend this for dating profiles. Before you sign up, give up. So, this time for my sexy little headline, I wrote: “Wordy, nerdy and kind of sturdy.” I put it all out there. Full disclosure. I will not walk on a beach with you, but I will play Scrabble. This is who I am. If I’m lying, I’m dying.
Not a lot of people responded, but one did.
We started messaging, had some calls and felt we might like each other. So we agreed to have dinner. It’s a seemingly simple thing to set up, but when I asked him where he wanted to eat, he was flummoxed. He said, “You pick the place. I don’t know where to go. I’m not good at plans. You make the plan. I can follow through with the plan, but I’m not a good planner!” Which is a weird red flag, right? I considered canceling. Then I considered the fact that my ex was great at making plans … to see other women while we were together.
I thought maybe it was time for a non-planner.
We decided to meet at the Smoke House in Burbank. Brian is a jazz trumpet player and a little bit old-timey. So I figured he’d love this place. Plus, those cheesy garlic breadsticks are heaven.
I got really dressed up for our date. Normally, I dress like a drunk art teacher, but I didn’t know how many more first dates I had in me. (I know I said don’t try too hard on the profile and I stand by that.) To meet IRL, I had to make it count. Dating can be exhausting. I’m not much of a dresser-upper. I had friends help me and I did the whole thing: cute boots, skirt, cleavage, hair curl, face paint. All of it.
When I got to the restaurant, he was waiting at the host stand. We saw each other for the first time. The moment of truth. No one looks exactly like their pic. It’s always a bit better or worse. We gazed across the lobby at each other and shared smiles that suggested, “Sure. Why not?” Which is all you need. You don’t need fireworks or an angelic choir singing at first glance. You just want that gate arm to go up.
What happened next changed my life.
We were shown to our table. Brian walked in front of me. A waiter, balancing a giant tray above his head, got between us. Then the waiter gets distracted. As I looked up, I saw the tray starting to tip toward me, and I thought, “Well, it’s not gonna fall. He’s a professional waiter. Nope! Here it comes!” The waiter’s tray fell, hit my chest, bounced off and crashed to the floor. Down came plates and cups and half-eaten shrimp scampi. Whoosh.
I stood there. Mortified. Everyone in the restaurant looked. Waiters rushed over asking if I was OK. I was stunned. I thought, “How did this happen? And why now and on my big date? And who doesn’t finish eating their shrimp scampi? There’s only four or five of them. And it’s delicious, and it costs $25.”
I mentally checked in with myself. I was a middle-aged lady on a date. That’s what we do. I thought, “Do you need a rain check or to reschedule? You were just attacked by appetizers.” I felt a little stunned, but nothing had gotten on me. I decided to stay and I made my way to the table where Brian was seated.
He looked across the table at me very sweetly, with kind eye contact, before asking, “Are you OK?” Just like on the dating profile, I wanted to be honest. I said, “Yes, that was very embarrassing and a weird shot of adrenaline. But yes, I’m OK.”
After a beat, he looked across the table at me. And very sweetly and with kind eye contact, he asked, “Can I laugh now?”
Frankly, in all my years of dating, I never knew exactly what I had been looking for, but I knew in that moment I had found it. My Prince Smartass. A year later, he proposed to me at the dinner table on a family vacation. And we’ve been together ever since.
The author is a comedian, TV writer, storytelling teacher and the winner of the first L.A. Affairs Live storytelling competition, where she performed a version of this story on stage. She, Brian and their Chihuahua named Mouse live in Lake Balboa. She’s on Instagram: @imlaurahouse.
L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@latimes.com. You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here.
Lifestyle
Zohran Mamdani reflects on his first 100 days as NYC mayor, and what else is left to do : NPR’s Newsmakers
A shovel, hand weights and a construction hat now displayed in the foyer of New York City Hall are symbols of what Mayor Zohran Mamdani says are the “pothole politics” behind key achievements in his first 100 days in office. That’s where we started our conversation this week during a wide-ranging interview for NPR’s Newsmakers video podcast.
Sitting in the ornate Blue Room of City Hall underneath a portrait of Alexander Hamilton, a founding father who helped shape the nation, 34-year-old Mamdani ticked off all that he’s been able to get done on his list of promises to voters:
“On day eight, we delivered $1.2 billion to make universal child care a reality across our city.”
“We secured more than $30 million in settlements with bad landlords, [and] repaired more than 6069 apartments.”
“We were able to secure nearly $100,000 a day for workers and small businesses that had been exploited by mega-corporations and delivery apps.”
“And we showed that the government can do all of these big transformative things while also doing the little things … filling in 102,000 potholes in that same length of time.”
“I share this with all of you, to give you a sense of where we are on what animated so many,” Mamdani said. “It shows people the very things they were told they would be wrong to believe in are in fact the ones that we can deliver on.”
Just after our interview there was another big win for the energetic young mayor. New York Governor Kathy Hochul announced she’s now backing a plan to tax the multi-million dollar homes of out-of-state residents. It’s money that will go toward paying down the $5.4 billion city budget shortfall.
Mamdani quickly turned to social media to tout the move.
“When I ran for mayor, I said I was going to tax the rich,” he tells the camera in a video post showing him standing in front of a $238 million penthouse.
He leans in, knocks on the lens and says, “Well today, we’re taxing the rich.”
You can watch the Newsmakers interview with Mamdani above. Below are highlights from our conversation.
Mamdani says there’s a lot more to do
Following through on some of his other campaign promises has proven challenging for the mayor. He has promised to disband a police unit accused of heavy handed tactics with protesters, but has not yet done so. It is a key part of Mamdani’s police reform.
I asked where he stands on the issue now.
“I’m committed to disbanding the Strategic Response Group and decoupling our city’s response to protests versus threats of terrorism,” he said. “Part of what you’re seeing in our administration is that we want to deliver this in a manner that isn’t just checking a box, but in a manner that both upholds the sanctity of the First Amendment, the freedom of expression of protest, and also does so in a manner that keeps New Yorkers safe.”
Overcoming Skepticism
There was a lot of doubt from the political establishment when Mamdani, a democratic socialist, swept into office on the promise of affordability.
He shared that message walking the streets of New York City and creating playful videos that talked economics through “halalflation” or poked fun at the focus on his youth with a promise to get older every year. Those are now a signature of his administration. He uses these videos to announce new plans from his administration or to mark major religious holidays important to New Yorkers such as Ramadan and Passover.
In office he’s been a pragmatist and some of his doubters are now key allies on some issues, including Democratic Governor Hochul, who is a partner in his push for universal childcare and now this new tax levied on the most wealthy part-time residents of New York City.
The proposed “pied-a-terre” tax got a sharp reaction from the president who accused the mayor of “destroying” the city in a Thursday post online.
Many Republicans continue to paint the mayor as a radical to be feared. He still faces bigoted attacks on his faith and ethnicity. I asked if he feels pressure to show his brand of democratic socialism works before the midterms this fall, knowing that those attacks are only going to ramp up.
Mamdani said he doesn’t think about how Republicans try to characterize him.
“I think about the fact that the power of an ideology is judged in the worth of its delivery,” he said. “Because for a long time, Republicans have sought to describe themselves as being driven by the needs of working people, when in reality we’ve seen a chasm in what they’ve actually delivered for those people.”
The war in Iran speaks to a “broken kind of politics”
That chasm is most clear in his deep opposition to the U.S. war on Iran, he said.
“We’re talking about a federal administration that has spent close to $30 billion dollars killing thousands of people at a time when working class people across this country cannot afford the bare minimum,” he said. “And to be told that a city-run grocery store is implausible, but spending more than $500 million a day to kill people in Iran and Lebanon is not only plausible but necessary, it speaks to a broken kind of politics.”
He said that New Yorkers feel the effects of that war beyond their pocketbook.
“At the core of any war is a dehumanization that takes place, and that dehumanization is not limited to any battlefield,” he said. “It extends into the lives of people across this country.”
He shared the story of a young Muslim woman he called after seeing the news that she had been thrown to the ground at a New York City subway stop.
“She told me that the first thing her attacker said to her before he attacked her was, ‘I wonder how many Iranians we killed today,’” he said. “That is what we are allowing to take hold in our politics.”
“He’s the President and I’m the Mayor”
Mamdani captured the nation’s attention all over again when he met President Trump in November after he won the mayor’s office.
The president had referred to him as a “communist lunatic” and Mamdani had called the president a “fascist” and promised to “Trump-proof” New York City.
Yet he appeared to charm the president, even as he smiled and said “yes” when he was asked if he still thinks Trump is a fascist.
“I think that one of the few things that we have in common is that we are both New Yorkers,” Mamdani said. “One part of being a New Yorker is both, to be honest and to be direct. And when I’m sitting with the president, we talk about places of potential collaboration … But we’re also very clear about places of disagreement.”
On his new life at Gracie Mansion
So what’s life like now that he’s moved from a one-bedroom in Queens to a literal mansion?
“You never realize how small your one-bedroom is until you try and move it into the larger bedroom that we have there,” he said.
Mamdani hasn’t had time to really think about all that space he now has, because he spends most of his time at City Hall and around New York City. He tries to keep a semblance of his old life by getting around the city on foot, by bike or train.
“If you spend every single day driving around in a tinted window security detail, you will have a very specific view of the city,” he said. “You actually meet other New Yorkers and you break out of the bubble that so many have come to expect of politics, where politicians only seem to be spending time with other politicians or the people who donated to make them politicians.”
Lifestyle
A tour of L.A. architecture as it’s actually experienced
This story is part of Image’s April’s Thresholds issue, a tour of L.A. architecture as it’s actually experienced.
I lived part of my teen years in Brasília, the capital built from scratch whose architecture and urban planning have drawn equal parts fascination and disdain. Over the years I’ve grown accustomed to comments about how “wild” the spaceship-like buildings designed by Oscar Niemeyer must have looked, how “alienating” the car-centric city must have been. But when I first heard these kinds of comments, I was admittedly surprised, because my memories of living in the city were much more mundane — eating hot dogs on the dusty sidewalks, hanging with friends at the base of our apartment building, movie-hopping at the mall. In other words, I was just living my life.
Now that I live in L.A., I sometimes hear echoes of what I used to hear about Brasília. They are both places with a mythic allure that nonetheless draw the same kinds of criticisms. How do you live in such a sprawling city where you have to drive everywhere? Isn’t it isolating? But as with Brasília, I’ve found that the way L.A. is perceived is much different than how it is lived.
Our April issue is about the lived experience of the city and its architecture. A postmodernist house in Baldwin Hills becomes a place for a family to dream. A billboard on the drive home becomes a personal landmark. A therapist’s room becomes a container for everything. A museum is held up as much by its walls as the people who work within them. We are part of our built environments, and nothing encompasses this more than our cover story on Lauren Halsey and her much-anticipated sculpture park, “sister dreamer lauren halsey’s architectural ode to tha surge n splurge of south central los angeles,” which is literally etched with the faces and stories of people from South-Central, where the artist grew up and still lives. On the cover photo, the artist stands in the back, in the shadows, allowing the people who shaped her project to take center stage.
Architects, I’m told, are obsessed with the idea of thresholds — corners, crossings, the in-between. This makes sense to me when I look at this cover, the group standing between four walls that don’t quite meet, the sky above and around them, inside and outside at the same time. It is a moving illustration of how a space can hold and contain — feel safe — while also holding an open sense of possibility.
Elisa Wouk Almino Editor in chief
Jess Aquino de Jesus Design Director
Julissa James, Staff Writer
Claire Salinda Staff Writer
Keyla Marquez Fashion Director at Large
Elizabeth Burr Art Director
Jamie Sholberg Art Director, Web
Samantha Lee Editorial Intern
Jennelle Fong Contributing Photographer
Tyler Matthew Oyer Contributing Photographer
Mere Studios Contributing Producer
Cecilia Alvarez Blackwell Contributing Producer
Dave Schilling Contributing Writer
Harmony Holiday Contributing Writer
Goth Shakira Contributing Writer
Cover
Photography Shaniqwa Jarvis
Featuring Cheryl Ward, Margaret Prescod, Autumn Luckey, Lauren Halsey, Monique Hatter, Andre “Sketch” Hampton, Monique McWilliams, Kenneth Blackmon, Robin Daniels, Michael Towler, Emmanuel Carter, Dyani Luckey, Dominique Moody, Rosie Lee Hooks, Damien Goodmon, Londyn Garrison and Christopher Blunt.
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