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Dance Movement Therapy and Drawing as Tools for Body Awareness: A Case Study in Non-Verbal Autistic Children

Ana Maria Dumitrașcu
Dance Movement Therapist in training, Bulgarian Association
Lives and works in Bucharest, Romania
E-mail: anadumitrascu.dmt @gmail.comABSTRACT
This paper explores the integration of Dance Movement Therapy and drawing as complementary tools to support body awareness and emotional self-regulation in a nonverbal autistic child. Over the course of 20 therapeutic sessions, a variety of movement-based techniques—such as mirroring, movement and sound attunement, touch, contact improvisation and object play—were carefully adapted to meet the child’s individual needs and internal rhythm. These sessions were complemented by a visual practice involving drawings made before and after each encounter, using a body outline pre-drawn by the therapist. The child was invited to colour the outline freely, without specific instructions, offering a visual and nonverbal method to monitor changes in perception, integration, and emotional state.
At the beginning of the intervention, the child showed signs of low tolerance to physical and visual contact, reduced attention span, and resistance to task engagement. As the therapeutic process evolved, notable improvements were observed: increased emotional expressiveness through movement and sound, improved motor coordination, stronger eye contact, and a more active use of touch as a communicative gesture. The drawings reflected these developments as well—becoming more integrated, less chaotic, and more expressive of specific body areas over time.
This case study suggests that the integration of drawing into dance movement therapy may serve not only as a valuable evaluative tool for nonverbal children but also as a therapeutic extension of embodied work. The findings point to the potential of multisensory and
nonverbal approaches in supporting emotional and bodily development in nonverbal autistic children.
Keywords: dance movement therapy, touch, autism, body awareness, drawing, assessment
IntroductionRecent years have witnessed growing interest in the use of expressive arts and body-based therapies in the support of autistic individuals. Many studies have been done on supporting the idea that Dance Movement Therapy (DMT) is an effective tool for development in nonverbal children, creating relationship (otherwise a lifelong difficulty) and developing body awareness and expressiveness. Being a multimodal and integrative approach, DMT complements other expressive arts and somatic practices, enriching the therapeutic process. Its flexibility allows for the incorporation of music, visual art, props, and vocal play, creating a dynamic, individualized space for engagement and regulation (Koch et al., 2015; Samaritter, 2015; Tortora, 2011).
Rooted in embodied cognition and somatic psychology, DMT provides a multisensory, nonverbal pathway to emotional expression, regulation, and interpersonal connection (Koch et al., 2015; Samaritter, 2015; Tortora, 2011). Simultaneously, drawing—frequently used in both art therapy and DMT—offers children a concrete, visual channel for emotional processing and self-exploration (Faber, 2019; Samaritter, 2015).
This study investigates the integration of DMT and drawing in therapeutic work with a nonverbal autistic child. It seeks to understand how body awareness and emotional regulation can be enhanced through movement, touch, and visual expression. Moreover, it explores the use of drawing as a qualitative assessment method in therapeutic contexts. The structure of the paper includes a theoretical overview of embodied approaches in autism therapy, detailed methodology, observational and artistic results, and a discussion on the implications of this integrative method. This case study follows the therapeutic journey of Radu (pseudonym), a 10-year-old nonverbal autistic boy, over the course of 20 sessions combining DMT, Body-Mind Centering (BMC), and an experimental body-based drawing protocol.
The intervention took place mostly at home and for a few times at school, offering insight into Radu’s relational, sensory, and environmental dynamics. By following his lead and
offering structure only when needed, I sought to create a space of safety, attunement, and bodily expression. Using Kestenberg Movement Profile (KMP) for observation, floorwork inspired by BMC, and spontaneous drawing as both assessment and integration, the sessions evolved into a rhythmically responsive and affectively rich space, positioning DMT not as a corrective tool, but as a relational and embodied medium that supports emotional regulation, body awareness, and the child’s ability to make choices and engage actively in the process.THEORETICAL FRAMEWORKDance Movement Therapy and Autism
DMT engages the body as both medium and message, creating a unique space for expression and self-awareness, emotional regulation, and interpersonal connection. This is particularly relevant for children on the autism spectrum, who often face challenges in verbal communication and social reciprocity. Grounded in sensory-motor engagement and affective attunement, DMT bypasses the need for verbal language, instead drawing on rhythm, movement, and play to foster co-regulation and expression (Koch et al., 2014; Samaritter, 2015; Chiang et al., 2020). These movement-based interactions echo early developmental processes of connection and affective mirroring, in which bodily attunement forms the foundation for social and emotional communication (Tortora, 2011).
Nonverbal children, in particular, benefit from Dance Movement Therapy’s ability to engage pre-verbal channels of expression and meaning-making (Cornacchini, 2020; Koch et al., 2014). As Cornacchini (2025) emphasizes, DMT’s strength lies in blending movement with creative expression, offering neurodivergent children diverse sensory and relational entry points. Given that autistic individuals often perceive and interact with the world through unique sensory and motor pathways, DMT serves as a responsive and inclusive medium, especially where verbal communication is limited, helping children feel seen, settle their nervous systems, and express themselves through movement. (Tortora, 2011; Koch et al., 2014; Samaritter, 2015; Porges, 2011; Faber, 2019)
Further, critical perspectives in the field encourage a shift from correctional or normative approaches to those emphasizing relationship, safety, and the individual’s embodied narrative
(Faber, 2019; From Fixing to Connecting, 2020). Multimodal DMT approaches (integrating sound, imagery, props, and art) create openings for participation and enrich communication across sensory domains (Lesley University, 2019).Touch and Body awareness
Touch, movement, and body awareness are foundational to sensorimotor integration and emotional development. In somatic approaches like BMC, touch is understood not merely as physical contact but as a deeply relational and sensory experience that nurtures internal coherence, embodiment, and a felt sense of safety (Cohen, 1993; Greil, 2020). For children on the autism spectrum, carefully attuned tactile and proprioceptive input—offered with respect and sensitivity—can reduce hyperarousal and support self- and co-regulation (Tortora, 2011). As Greil (2020) emphasizes, touch in BMC is non-intrusive, specific to each child’s process, and invites curiosity rather than compliance. Over time, tactile engagement may shift from resistance to openness, becoming a dynamic medium for shared presence, trust, and kinesthetic communication (Faber, 2019; Samaritter, 2020).Kestenberg Movement Profile (KMP)
KMP is a psychomotor assessment and observation system that decodes movement as an expression of psychological and developmental functioning (Loman & Merman, 1996). Developed by Judith Kestenberg, it maps tension-flow rhythms and developmental patterns that correspond with emotional tone, sensory preferences, and relational style.
In children with autism, rhythmic patterns such as biting, drifting, snapping, and sucking can reflect internal regulation strategies, affective states, or attempts at self-soothing (Samaritter, 2015; Lesley University, 2019). By observing these rhythms and qualities, the therapist gains insight into the child's internal world and may respond through attuned movement, offering either resonance or contrast to support modulation (Chiang et al., 2020).
As a therapeutic tool, KMP deepens the therapist’s capacity to perceive and respond to the subtle language of the body. It allows for the observation of developmental shifts over time, offering insight into how a child grows into movement and emotion (Loman & Merman, 1996). By tracking rhythmic patterns and tension-flow affinities, the therapist can begin to decode embodied signals of need, stress, or regulation (Samaritter, 2015; Kestenberg-Amighi
et al., 1999). Rather than seeking correction or normative movement, the KMP approach fosters relational attunement, meeting the child within their unique movement vocabulary and offering a nonverbal bridge between internal states and social connection (Samaritter, 2020; Loman & Merman, 1996).
When used in combination with DMT and BMC, KMP provides an embodied language for observing, relating to, and supporting children who communicate primarily through movement.Multimodal integration
DMT practices are often enriched through multimodal approaches that integrate music, props, visual arts, storytelling, and vocal play. These offer multiple entry points for children with diverse sensory preferences and communication styles (Cornacchini, 2020; Lesley University, 2019). In a therapeutic setting, such combinations may support attention, motor planning, creativity, and social participation—especially when tailored to individual rhythms and interests (Faber, 2019; Samaritter, 2020). As Rethinking Autism (2020) suggests, interventions that privilege embodied experiences over normative goals support more inclusive, empowering outcomes.
Drawing as assessment an expression
Drawing is a well-established tool in child therapy, functioning as both expressive outlet and diagnostic mirror. In children with limited verbal expression, drawings may reveal inner emotional states, body image, sensory processing experiences, and even relational patterns (Faber, 2019; Samaritter, 2015).
Anchoring these drawings in a body outline, as in this study, helps bridge the gap between inner sensation and external form. Elements like colour use, line pressure, symmetry, and attention to body regions may indicate shifts in perception, regulation, or affect. When applied before and after movement-based sessions, such drawings can serve as a visual diary of change and integration over time (Chiang et al., 2020; Art Therapy Interventions, n.d.).METHODOLOGY
Case description – initial observations
Radu is a 10-year-old nonverbal autistic boy who lives with his parents and grandmother in a rented house with a long, narrow garden, not far from school. Most of our sessions took place in his home, in a room used mainly for therapy and homework. Toward the end of our work together, we moved to a larger, more comfortable and neutral space, where Radu adjusted easily.
Almost every time, Radu and his grandmother would come to meet me at the gate, which was helpful, since one of their dogs could be aggressive. Radu often came outside barefoot, sometimes in shorts, sometimes in just his underwear, his legs dark from dust and covered with mosquito bites that he would often scratch during the session.
In the beginning, I hoped the family could be more involved in the process. But I soon realized that this wasn’t realistic for several reasons. His grandmother, who I saw as his main caregiver, would use the session time to take care of house chores that were hard to do while watching over him. His parents were usually at work. I did get to meet them from time to time and share some feedback. They listened kindly, smiling and nodding. From my point of view, they seemed tired from years of therapy and mostly wanted Radu to be safe, happy, and able to grow at his own pace.
Radu goes to a regular school in the neighbourhood, where he is supported by a specialist known as a Shadow. When his Shadow couldn’t come, I took him to school a few times while he was in 2nd and 3rd grade. We were seated together at the back of the classroom, separate from the other children so we wouldn’t disturb, something that’s common in Romania. The teacher didn’t come to greet him, and neither did the other students. Most of the time, we worked on preschool-level activity books, but I tried to involve him in whatever creative activities the class was doing, like drawing, gluing, or writing letters during special events.
It was hard for Radu to sit still for four hours like the other children. He wasn’t allowed to move around the classroom when he needed to. After a while, usually one or two hours, he would start crying, screaming, throwing things, asking for food, hugging me, kissing me, anything to avoid staying seated. So sometimes, I would take him outside to run on the
football field, shake, throw a ball, or do whatever else he needed, sometimes even just lying on the ground and looking at the sky.
Being able to see parts of Radu’s home and school life helped me understand him much better. It gave me insight into how he relates to people and situations around him and helped build a real connection between us. I could better understand what he liked, what he didn’t like, what he needed, and what he struggled with. It helped me meet him where he was.
At home, Radu often seemed tired of the therapy room and would leave it to walk around the house whenever he could. I usually followed him quietly, and he didn’t seem to mind. Sometimes he would look back and notice I was there. These moments gave me a good view of how he moved when he was free and relaxed. Using the Kestenberg Movement Profile (KMP) as a guide, I noticed that his movements often showed certain rhythms like snapping, running, drifting, or jumping, which seemed to reflect how he was feeling or helped him calm down.
He liked to walk back and forth in the room, looking like he didn’t have a plan, and rarely stopped. Sometimes his walk became more rhythmic. He would bend forward, raise one knee, and breathe loudly, going forwards and backwards. Other times, he would jump on his bed and kick his legs up on the wall. In the first sessions, he often walked in circles while breathing heavily, sometimes stopping to flap the edge of a rug or flip through books and papers. Then he would retreat to a corner and not want to interact. In rare moments when he was very upset, he would bang his bottom on the floor and cry. Luckily, those moments stopped after a few meetings. One behaviour that continued for longer, though less often over time, was slapping his own legs or belly, maybe as a way to release tension or feel something more clearly.
From the start, Radu showed some clear behaviour patterns. He had a short attention span and would leave an activity after only a few minutes. He avoided touch and eye contact, but he really liked tactile experiences. He could become frustrated quickly, though he sometimes surprised me with sweet and affectionate moments, giving kisses or cuddles. He was very sensitive to sounds and movements happening in the room, the house, or even outside in the garden. Out of all the activities, painting (especially with his fingers) was something he really enjoyed and stayed focused on.
Later in the process, a colleague of mine joined the sessions to observe. She mostly watched and took notes, which helped us see more clearly how Radu’s behaviour and way of connecting were changing over time.

Therapeutic structure and techniques
The intervention included 20 sessions, each lasting approximately two hours, held weekly or bi-weekly. The initial phase focused on building rapport, exploring Radu’s preferences, and establishing co-regulation. As trust developed, the sessions adopted a more consistent structure, generally unfolding in three parts: a warm-up, interactive movement and body awareness work, followed by a closing segment that often included drawing.
In the early sessions, I primarily followed Radu around the room, observing and gently mirroring his movements. I invited interaction through playful gestures and the use of props, occasionally initiating brief, respectful touch on the arm, hand, or shoulder. At times, I simply witnessed from a distance, allowing him space. He sometimes appeared puzzled or annoyed by my presence, curiously watching me from the side, freezing in response to touch, or tossing aside the scarves I offered for comfort when he became upset. However, as our bond deepened, these reactions softened. Gradually, Radu began to engage more directly, while episodes of frustration and emotional outbursts diminished. He started to greet me at the gate and would head straight to the therapy room, waiting with anticipation and often responding with joy to invitations to dance.
Over time, I became more attuned to his rhythms and preferences, shaping the session structure organically around his needs.Sessions typically followed this three-part format:
1. Grounding and body awareness (floorwork) We often began on the floor with a quiet moment of connection, simply being together. This served as a grounding ritual, allowing us to attune to each other’s energy. Background music (usually a lo-fi playlist) played softly, adjusting it as we moved forward into the session. Using BMC techniques, I offered gentle, attuned touch to support body awareness and sensory regulation. Movement arose naturally and intuitively, without a fixed goal. Sometimes I used a toy or musical instrument to help focus Radu’s attention while guiding his body and naming body parts or actions. I responded to any sounds he made, matching them vocally or rhythmically. My
attention moved between the sensations in his body and mine, maintaining awareness of the space and its dynamics.
If Radu chose to get up and walk around in his usual patterns, I often let him, observing with openness. At other times, I gently introduced resistance to his movement to invite new responses, encourage boundary-setting, or engage him playfully. As his energy built and he seemed ready for more active play, I proposed floor-based movement, using developmental patterns such as rolling, reaching, pushing, pulling, creeping, crawling, rocking, bridging, and transitions between prone, supine, and side-lying positions. These were combined with fundamental patterns like head-tail connectivity, body-half and cross-lateral coordination, spinal undulations, and weight shifting. All were introduced in a playful, imaginative manner, often mimicking animals, while prioritizing our therapeutic connection.2. Dynamic movement and interaction The second part of the session adapted flexibly to Radu’s readiness. I followed his lead and introduced change only when it was welcomed, ensuring that the experience remained free of pressure or frustration. As Radu became more comfortable, he began to accept new suggestions and interact more openly with various props and activities. This phase included dance, improvisation, physical exercises, and vocal play. The environment remained playful, responsive, and stimulating. Although I held a structure in mind, nothing was rigid and everything unfolded as a response to Radu’s cues.
Techniques and activities in this section included:
a. Weight shift using contact improvisation
b. “Follow the leader” using the elastic band (with or without verbal prompts)
c. Neck and back-strengthening exercises
d. Upper and lower body coordination tasks
e. Cross-lateral movement
f. Sucking, twisting, or swaying movements based on KMP rhythmic qualities, supported by props
g. Expressive dance, with or without mirroring of movement and sound, often using textured scarves3. Integration and closure The final part of each session often included calming or integrative activities. Depending on Radu’s state, I would sometimes propose painting, playing instruments, or singing familiar songs, while other times we would shift toward quiet, regulating activities such as massage, gentle caresses with props, or rocking (either Radu or a toy). Especially during the earlier sessions, Radu could become easily overstimulated, so this segment played an important role in helping his nervous system settle. It also supported a smoother transition toward the end of the session and the rest of his day. We often closed with a simple improvised dance, playful, expressive, and intuitive, serving as a way to say goodbye through movement.Drawing protocol
Like many elements in our sessions, the drawing practice emerged intuitively. During one early session, I found some printed outlines of children's figures, likely left behind by another therapist. I casually offered Radu one to colour while I prepared the space. Near the end of the session, I had a hunch that perhaps repeating the drawing could show a shift and so I gave him a second outline to colour. The difference between the two was striking. Curious, I photographed them and shared them with an art therapist, whose feedback confirmed my intuition: the drawings appeared to reflect a kind of emotional release.
That moment became the seed of what developed into a drawing protocol. At the beginning and end of each session, I created for Radu the same body outline and invited him to colour freely, without giving specific instructions. A set of coloured pencils was always available. These drawings were later reviewed for emerging patterns, shifts in expression, and potential correlations with behaviour or movement observed during the session.Role of the therapist
In my role as therapist, I took on the position of responsive co-regulator and embodied companion, continuously adjusting to Radu’s emotional cues, movement rhythms, and sensory thresholds. My primary aim was to build trust and safety through presence, not pressure. Observing quietly, following his lead, and creating space for expression on his terms.
Touch, when used, was always purposeful and attuned, often inspired by BMC techniques to enhance body awareness and grounding. Rather than imposing a fixed plan, I allowed
structure to emerge from Radu’s own preferences and pacing. Movement, sound, and playful interaction became our shared language, where every proposal could be accepted, modified, or declined freely.
I shifted fluidly between roles: sometimes a witness, sometimes a partner in motion or sound. I monitored both his regulation and my own, adapting the session flow to match his energy and focus, while incorporating familiar rituals to create predictability and closure. Above all, I aimed to foster a relationship rooted in safety, curiosity, and mutual respect. One in which Radu could explore new forms of engagement while remaining grounded in his own agency and rhythm.Ethical considerations
Informed consent was obtained from Radu’s parents for his participation in therapy and for the anonymous documentation of the work. His name has been changed, and all identifying details have been altered or omitted. No video or photography was used during the sessions, except for photos of his drawings, which were taken thoughtfully and used solely for observation, analysis, and reflection within the therapeutic context.
Throughout the process, I was attentive to Radu’s emotional and sensory boundaries, working moment by moment to modulate intensity, proximity, and activity. Interventions were always presented as invitations, never demands. Respecting his autonomy was essential, and I remained committed to fostering an atmosphere of predictability and attunement. Co-regulation, rather than correction, was at the heart of the ethical stance I upheld, ensuring a relational space where safety and connection could naturally emerge.FINDINGS
Across the 20 sessions, clear patterns and developmental shifts emerged in Radu’s movement, behaviour, and emotional expression. These offered insight into his evolving needs, preferences, and internal rhythms, while also highlighting the transformative potential of the therapeutic relationship.
Movement patterns as communication Radu consistently relied on rhythmic and repetitive movement (circling, pacing, jumping, flapping) as a means of regulating internal states and navigating sensory input. Viewed
through the lens of the KMP, these patterns often aligned with rhythmic tendencies such as snapping, biting, drifting, and jumping, reflecting states of arousal or disorganization. Over time, his movement vocabulary expanded: he began to initiate cross-lateral actions, weight shifts, and fluid level transitions, suggesting increased neuromotor integration and body awareness.
Sensory sensitivities and preferences Initially highly reactive to environmental stimuli, Radu showed strong responses to sound, texture, and proximity. He avoided eye contact and touch, yet was drawn to tactile exploration, especially through finger painting or textured props. As trust developed, he began to seek out deep pressure and proprioceptive input, gradually shifting from avoidance to co-regulation through touch. His growing comfort with sensory engagement mirrored a broader emotional openness and reduction in reactivity.
Emotional regulation through movement Large-scale, dynamic movement like rolling, jumping and rocking, proved vital for emotional discharge and nervous system regulation. These actions allowed Radu to process and express affect nonverbally, while floorwork based on developmental patterns (creeping, crawling, bridging) supported emotional containment and organization. Over time, he transitioned more smoothly between states of high arousal and calm, demonstrating a greater capacity for emotional modulation.
Relationship development and engagement At the outset, Radu appeared distant and often disengaged. Gradually, however, he began to greet, anticipate sessions, and initiate shared rituals. His ability to engage in joint attention and sustained interaction improved, and his tolerance for co-presence expanded. Activities that once prompted withdrawal or frustration became entry points for connection and play.
Emotional expression and communication From early expressions of distress (screaming, crying, self-slapping) Radu began to access a wider range of nonverbal communication. Posture, breath, gesture, and vocalization became increasingly expressive and purposeful. He showed more nuanced emotional states and began to invite or respond to touch and sound with greater flexibility, marking a shift toward relational reciprocity.
Mirroring and reciprocity Radu’s early mirroring behaviours were sparse and inconsistent. However, by mid-intervention, he engaged in rhythm-based interaction, brief shared movement sequences and even micro-mirroring. These behaviors, while subtle, indicated a progressive development in Radu’s capacity for nonverbal attunement, co-regulation, and engagement in reciprocal interaction - core components of early relational and communicative functioning.
Creative expression as emotional outlet The spontaneous integration of body-outline drawings provided a parallel, visual record of internal shifts. Radu’s artwork evolved from chaotic and disjointed forms to more coherent, expressive compositions. These served as valuable tools for reflection and integration, reinforcing insights gathered from movement and behaviour.The evolution of Radu’s drawings: A comparative analysis
The drawing protocol (two outline-based images created before and after each session) offered a visual window into Radu’s emotional and somatic states. With minimal verbal guidance and consistent materials, the drawings revealed distinct patterns aligned with observed behavioural changes.
Use of colour and composition: Drawings completed in a single colour tended to reflect calm and cohesion. These often occurred during sessions marked by body integration and emotional regulation. Early phase drawings (sessions 1-10) from the initial sessions were often chaotic, fragmented, or overcrowded with colours. Many featured intense, overlapping strokes, a lot of the times using different colours for isolated areas of the body. Later phase drawings (sessions 11–20) revealed increased coherence and intentionality. Monochromatic schemes became more common (nine across the full period, particularly in this phase), suggesting a growing sense of internal calm and unity. Compositions appeared more balanced and integrated, with layered, softer, rounder strokes and a more deliberate use of colour and space.Attention to body boundaries: When colouring remained close to the body’s outline, it suggested growing awareness of personal boundaries and spatial orientation, mirroring increased comfort with relational and tactile engagement. Colouring during the first half of the intervention was often focused only on parts of the figure, while other parts seemed to be extended out of the lines. These tendencies may reflect blurred body boundaries or
difficulties in spatial organization and self-containment. Such patterns paralleled moments of heightened arousal, sensory overstimulation, and a low tolerance for physical closeness in sessions. Several drawings in the second phase (eight in total) demonstrated focused contour coloring, suggesting clearer awareness of physical limits and personal space. This visual boundary-setting reflected Radu’s growing capacity to tolerate safe touch and sustain a consistent relational bond with the therapist. However, in the final two sessions, his drawings once again suggested emotional overflow, echoed in moments of anger during the sessions. This may indicate that the drawings served as a sensitive mirror of his inner emotional state.

Emotional tone and visual rhythm
During periods of heightened stress at home or school, Radu’s drawings became agitated, marked by overlapping colours, erratic lines, or visual disorganization. These mirrored real-life dysregulation and contextual distress. In the early sessions, Radu’s drawings conveyed a sense of agitation, marked by dense, rigid lines, strong pressure on the crayons, and repetitive, straight strokes. These visual elements reflected inner tension, emotional overload, and limited expressive flexibility. As the intervention progressed, a notable shift occurred. In the final sessions, his compositions became lighter, more fluid and spacious, marked by airy strokes and an overall softer rhythm. These changes pointed to greater emotional regulation and the release of built-up tension, likely supported by dynamic movement work and co-regulatory experiences. The evolving visual rhythm mirrored Radu’s increased tolerance, sustained attention, and expanded emotional expression.CONCLUSION
The progression of Radu’s drawings offered compelling visual evidence of his internal transformation throughout the therapeutic process. Early images revealed signs of fragmentation, sensory overwhelm, and relational distance, while later compositions reflected growing coherence, self-regulation, and emotional openness. These visual shifts paralleled broader behavioural developments, including enhanced motor coordination, adaptive emotional responses, and increased relational presence.
Far beyond creative expression, the drawings became meaningful indicators of somatic and emotional change, providing a visual narrative that complemented movement-based observations and deepened insight into the child’s embodied experience. Their consistency and evolution underscored their value as both expressive and evaluative tools within the therapeutic setting.
This case study highlights the benefits of combining DMT, attuned touch, and drawing to support self-awareness and regulation in nonverbal autistic children. The integration of these modalities fostered spontaneous expression, reduced dysregulation, and nurtured relational connection in a developmentally attuned and sensory-responsive way.
Overall, this work encourages a playful, flexible, and child-centered approach that honours neurodiverse modes of communication. It suggests that multisensory, arts-integrated interventions can offer safe, resonant pathways for expression, healing, and growth in children for whom words may not yet suffice.DISCUSSION
The intervention facilitated visible, meaningful shifts in Radu’s behaviour and expression. Movement and drawing offered reciprocal channels for embodiment and communication. Drawing served not only as an evaluative tool, but as a continuation of movement—a visual echo of the somatic experience.
Findings support existing literature on the effectiveness of DMT with nonverbal populations and extend it by illustrating the value of visual integration. The child’s increased use of micro-mirroring and attention to body regions in drawings align with somatic learning theories.
The co-regulatory nature of the relationship was central. My adaptability and the predictability embedded in touch, rhythm, and movement may have supported vagal tone and encouraged social engagement behaviours, helping to create a sense of safety and relational openness. This was reflected in Radu’s growing tolerance for touch, participation in floorwork, and use of affective gestures such as grabbing my hand and calling me to dance, mirroring, smiling. The body-outline drawings further externalized his internal experience, allowing insight into his sensory world and progress over time. The use of the KMP allowed me to decode rhythmic patterns and offer movement-based responses tailored to his internal state.
These findings align with existing literature advocating for relational, play-based, and body-oriented approaches in autism therapy (Cornacchini, 2020; Samaritter, 2020; Tortora, 2011). Notably, the drawings did not merely assess change but contributed to integration—bridging movement and meaning in a way that honoured Radu’s agency and sensory language. This supports a shift from goal-driven correction toward relationship-centred development, affirming the child’s embodied narrative. In practice, this study highlights the importance of co-regulation, rhythmic attunement, and creative modalities in autism therapy. It reinforces the value of arts-integrated approaches that respect neurodivergent embodiment and foster relational presence over correctional goals.LIMITATIONS AND FUTURE DISRECTIONS
This case study focuses on the experience of a single child and cannot be generalized to all autistic children. The drawing protocol, although insightful, was interpretive and lacked standardized evaluation or inter-rater reliability. The absence of pre/post quantitative measures and a control condition further limits empirical conclusions.
Future research could benefit from longitudinal studies involving multiple participants and therapists, comparative protocols exploring the added value of drawing in DMT, and integration of physiological or psychometric tools to support embodied observations. Additionally, it would be valuable to further investigate the role of rhythm, attuned touch, and relational safety in building therapeutic alliances with nonverbal children.REFERENCES
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Cohen, B. (1993). Sensing, feeling, and action: The experiential anatomy of Body-Mind Centering. Contact Editions.
Cornacchini, G. (2020). Multimodal dance/movement therapy for children with autism. Children and Youth Services Review, 119, 105207. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.childyouth.2020.105207
Faber, R. (2019). From fixing to connecting: Dance movement therapy as relational praxis with autistic children. Signal – Journal of the American Dance Therapy Association, 3(1), 4–10.
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Tortora, S. (2011). The need to be seen: From Winnicott to the mirror neuron system, dance/movement therapy comes of age. American Journal of Dance Therapy, 33, 4–17. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10465-011-9107-5
Piliere, R. (2018). Art Therapy Interventions that Facilitate Non-Verbal Expressions and how Art Therapy Can Improve Communication for Children with Autism. Undergraduate Honors College Theses 2016-. 27. https://digitalcommons.liu.edu/posthonorstheses/27Ana Maria Dumitrașcu holds a degree in Theatre and Performing Arts, a Master’s degree in Inclusive Education, and has completed a 3-year training program in Dance Movement Therapy. She has worked with children in educational and therapeutic settings for over 12 years, dedicating the last 4 years to children and individuals with diverse abilities, with a particular focus on autistic children. Her work explores movement-based therapies and practices involving touch, such as Body-Mind Centering (BMC), amniotic therapy, and contact improvisation, while also integrating Forum Theatre techniques to support embodied collective change. She actively advocates for multidisciplinary collaboration and aims to build bridges between the general public, neurodivergent communities, and spaces centered on wellbeing and acceptance. She has contributed to the development of cultural-therapeutic projects such as Body, Mind and Intimacy in Relationships, Inclusive Empathic Ecosystems, and Curative-Performative Valences of Touch. She presented her research at the ICIE Conference (Bucharest, 2024), and in 2025 participated in the EADMT Conference (Vilnius) with a study on body mapping in blind individuals. She is currently developing artistic and therapeutic interventions for young school-age children focused on inclusion, group cohesion, and conflict resolution.

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