Emma Howell
13 January, 2024
I am going through something.
Let’s call it hardship X. It’d be nice to get off this ship, but I can’t really – not when we’re mid-wave or storm (it’s a wave when I’m perceiving it positively and a storm for when I’m.. not so positive). And it doesn’t feel appropriate to publicly write about it – not right now anyway. Maybe later. However, do you know what I can do? I can paint.
Because that’s what I do, right?
I paint when things get tough. If you look at my painting patterns over the last few years, my frenzied bouts of creation usually coincide with a hardship. There was the whole Dad passing a way thing – we all know that one (well, a lot of you do).. and boy, did that one go on for a few years. Then there was the whole covid/lockdown/the world’s gone crazy malarkey.. remember that? That thing that shan’t be named; that thing that felt like last year, but really was almost 5 years ago.. My hands birthed a plethora of art babies throughout that time period and my business/number of art collectors unexpectedly (and beautifully) soared.
Not a day goes by where I don’t feel gratitude for that time – and I know that sounds backwards, bizarre, even barbaric.. but it was really important for me to not stop living or “doing my thing”. I wasn’t going to abandon all of the careful nurturing I was doing for the life I fought so hard for after losing my Dad. I wasn’t going to let anybody or anything hijack my clarity, creativity and conscience.. so in that usual Emma fashion, the paints came out and I travelled far and wide on paper.
Those strange couple of years didn’t just catalyse business and financial growth, they also catalysed emotional/mental/personal growth (I don’t know which word to choose); they awakened a rather dormant soul within. Call it woo-woo, but that’s what has happened. I’ve never been so in tune with my mind and body. I’ve never felt so confident in my life choices. I’ve never felt so real and authentic.
Then hardship X swarmed in like a sh*t ton of bumble bees
..and I mean, they must be all queen bees – the biiiig mothers with sharp stinger arses. And despite that perfectly nurtured clarity and eye roll worthy confidence, I haven’t been able to handle it. That’s right, I fell right back down that dark hole with absolutely no intention of finding a way out. White flags.
Didn’t even want to paint. See ya, paintbrushes.
Well, that was 2023 and it’s now 2024.. and I’m thrilled to announce that 2024 is going to be nothing but sublime. Hey, I’m no fool – I know that curve balls in life happen all the time, and I won’t naively kid myself into a perfect, curve ball-free year (despite being a pretty sufficient batsman nowadays).. but what it is going to be is a year of peaceful and conscious acceptance of the now and the what is.
It’s taken a few months of solid inner work, therapy, dollar spending, reading, writing, voice-clipping (you know who you are) and a recent but temporary abandonment of my Instagram account .. but guys and girls, although I still have a lot to process and a “journey” to go through, I’m officially out of the hole – and however alluring it can be, I’m staying out.
I’m ready to paint.
This soul has a lot to say and I’m going to say it in paint, pencil, charcoal, ink, whatever I feel like using when the time comes. Expect an eclectic mix of abstracts, still life and perhaps landscapes (or mind-scapes); a body of work to inspire, enthral, open minds and to celebrate life.
These pieces that I speak of will all be showcased in my next solo show coming up this summer.
And that show is called Soul.
I’ll see you there.
Soul details:
June 28th – July 11th 2024 at Sixteen Gallery in Cheltenham.
With very, very special guests Munson Guitars.
For a private viewing before the launch night, make sure you’re signed up to my mailing list where you will receive more information on this opportunity.
I’ll be OK 😀
Absolutely vital reading list:
The Miracle Morning by Hal Elrod
The 5AM Club by Robin Sharma
The Art of Living by Bob Proctor
Atomic Habits by James Clear
The Celestine Prophecy by James Redfield
The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho