LATTSBURGH — The raku-fired piece is round, its interior a mass of pointed spikes at cross-purposes.

Somewhere within, imagines artist Dove Phillips, is the "Key."

Phillips, an art therapist at Behavioral Health Services North's Child and Family Clinic, created the piece as a grad student, when she worked on a psych unit for adults.

Key, she knew then, was "looking within the layers, finding that one piece that helped them work through."

"Key" and two other examples of Phillips's work are among the pieces exhibited in "Life's Journey," an art show today through Oct. 16 in the former Café Cumberland, 69 Margaret St., Plattsburgh.

The artists have either worked in the field of mental health, have at some time in their lives needed mental-health services or have had a loved one affected by mental-illness.

ART OUT OF TURMOIL
There is a strong stigma attached to mental illness, said Tracey Staub, so some artists have chosen to remain anonymous. But through their art, they still send a message.

The exhibit, she said, shows its contributors are "no different than anybody else — they're artisans, they can accomplish things."

Staub had intended submitting a photograph of a campfire blazing against a peaceful outdoor backdrop.

"You have the raging fire, but you have the serenity," she said. "I was going to call it 'Natural Bipolar.'"

But her camera — a digital Olympus Stylus — was stolen at Walmart with that photo and irreplaceable shots of her daughter's 9th birthday. Instead, Staub dug out some paintings she did in high school, for they remain just as relevant.

Diagnosed with bipolar illness at 38, she had experienced symptoms as a teen that set her apart from others, made her feel different.

"I knew something was wrong, but I didn't know what," she said. "It caused a lot of struggle and turmoil with myself — a lot of it shows in my artwork."

Her painting "Revenge of the Hawaiian Chicken" shows a cat's paw prints entering an abstract background and blood-red chicken tracks leaving.

"It expresses how things should be different," Staub said. "You expect the cat to win; I felt like the chicken."

Since diagnosis, Staub has graduated summa cum laude from Clinton Community College as an alcohol and substance abuse counselor. She has served on the Anti-Stigma Committee at Behavioral Health Services North, fervent in her desire to help break down the stigma that surrounds mental illness.

"It's not something that should be a secret," she said.

INVIGORATING
Terri Sartoris feels the same; her pencil drawings "Cheshire," "Secret Chamber" and "Looking Glass" represent an awakening from depression and anxiety disorder that she achieved through art therapy.

Her illnesses had shut her away from everything that gave her enjoyment, including art, she said. After about a year in art therapy, though, she found she could draw again.

"It's just pouring out," she said.

Her work takes its inspiration from "Alice and Wonderland," fanciful sketches with a deeper meaning. This is the first time Sartoris has ever shown her art.

"It's very scary," she said.

But at the same time, she recognizes the purpose of the exhibit on a grander scale.

"It's important, because it gives a window into the life of someone with mental illness," she said.

From her own experience, Phillips knew the value of artistic expression — for anyone — long before she chose art therapy as a career.

"You don't always have the words for what's going on, for what you're feeling," she said.

Raku is so invigorating, she said, remembering a class she once took.

"It was snowing," she said.

In hats and gloves, the students stood outdoors before the kiln heated to 2,000 degrees. With tongs, they carefully lifted newly fired pieces out, buried them in sawdust.

Quickly, she said, or the sawdust would burst into flame.

"You want it to smolder," she said. "It's a very, very intense process."

Her work "Inner Seed of Knowledge" is an unglazed piece, so was left with a blackened surface. Those with glaze, though — like Phillips's "Key" — are scrubbed after firing.

"The black doesn't go away but the glaze comes up," the artist said.

In raku, she sees a metaphor for the journey traveled by those with mental illness as they seek recovery.

"Raku itself is a trauma," she said. "Then when you come out of it and get yourself back together, clean yourself up, you're transformed.

"You can be more beautiful than before."

E-mail Suzanne Moore at: smoore@pressrepublican.com