In It’s Kind of a Funny Story, one of the main ways that narrator Craig learns to better understand his own mental health is through art. Craig has been interested in drawing maps from a young age, but it’s only when he ends up in Joanie’s arts and crafts class at a psychiatric hospital that he starts drawing them again with new, directed purpose. Craig’s maps are based on the human brain, and on his final full day in the hospital he draws portraits of the brain maps of all his fellow patients. Maps, conventionally, are useful for navigation and discovery. Craig’s decision to draw maps of the brain initially represents his attempt to learn more about himself by “mapping out” his brain as though it were a city block. He eventually learns how to map out other brains, showing how his journey of self-discovery is only possible through the help of others. Craig’s experience with music and the guitar therapist Neil follows a similar path, as he starts by learning about himself (that he has the rhythm to play drums and dance) before ultimately helping him to connect more with other people (such as when Craig tracks down Egyptian music to play for his roommate Muqtada). In establishing this link between art, self-expression, and human connection, then, It’s Kind of a Funny Story portrays art as a powerful tool for healing and self-fulfillment, helping people to first get a better sense of themselves so that they can make richer, more fulfilling connections with others.
Related Themes from Other Texts
Art and Self-Discovery ThemeTracker
Art and Self-Discovery Quotes in It’s Kind of a Funny Story
She got me some thick paper—white construction paper. Later on I grew to prefer straight computer paper. I went back under my fort and turned the light on and started on my first map. And I did that for the next five years—whenever I was in class, I didn’t doodle, I drew maps. Hundreds of them. When I finished, I crumpled them; it was making them that was important. I did cities on the ocean, cities with two rivers meeting in the middle, cities with one big river that bent, cities with bridges, crazy interchanges, circles and boulevards. I made cities. That made me happy. That was my Anchor. And until I turned nine and turned to video games, that was what I wanted to be when I grew up: a mapmaker.
It’s depressing, though. I mean, this room is what I expect a mental hospital to look like. Adults reduced to children, sitting with finger paints; a jolly supervisor telling them that everything they do is great.
“Ha! Listen, for real, here’s my card.” Neil pulls out a simple black-and-white business card that identifies him as a Guitar Therapist. “Whenever you’re out of here, and I’m sure it’ll be soon, give me a call and we can talk about volunteering, and—I’m serious—I might like to buy some of these.”
“You were the one who suggested I do stuff from childhood,” I continue. “I used to do these when I was a kid, and I forgot how fun they were.”
“I’m going to throw a wild notion at you.” Dr. Minerva leans back, then forward. “Have you ever thought about going to a different school?”
“This I have not heard in so long!” He’s grinning so much I think his glasses are going to fall off.
So now live for real, Craig. Live. Live. Live. Live.
Live.
