Emma Howell
8 November, 2025
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been an artist who writes, doodles, sketches and paints in response to life – memories, travels, conversations, grief, emotional stuff, you know. My work has always been instinctive and personal, and that hasn’t changed as such.. but I have.
Since becoming a mother, something in me has shifted.. my brain, my artistic rhythm, and even the way my hands move across the paper – everything just feels slightly off. Brush and pencil marks come out differently now (many of them impulsive and a bit ugly) – almost as if they belong to somebody else. And as I continue the pieces in my next body of work, The Motherhood Collection, I’ve realised this change is becoming rather evident. It’s pretty unsettling.
There are emotions and experiences in this new chapter that I never thought I’d meet.. and they’ve forced their way into my art practice. The most surprising one that has surfaced the most is rage.
The Unbelievable Rage
Motherhood hasn’t just changed my routine.. it’s changed the temperature of my emotions (that’s the only way I can describe it). Everything feels amplified – noise, love, tiredness, anger.. I seriously didn’t expect to feel this kind of rage, especially as a new mother.. something I’d wanted for so long. And it’s not just your typical irritation or frustration.. it’s real, physical rage. The kind that surfaces at 2am when the baby wakes for the 437th time, chest pounding, forehead sweating and veins about to burst. I feel that no one really talks about it because it’s too brutal, too shameful, and the antithesis of that ‘glowing mummy’ narrative.
I swear this kind of rage has done something to me. Sometimes it feels like what I imagine a lobotomy would feel like.. a kind of numb rewiring. But in other moments, it’s like a new part of my soul has awakened. When Lilah fusses again and again and again, that rage can take over.. I want to scream into pillows, throw things, escape (tried this; failed). Then morning comes – calm, light, coffee, her dimples.. like it never even happened. Guilt will then totally envelope me. How can such fierce emotions arise over something so small and unbelievably cute?
Before I had Lilah, I genuinely thought motherhood would be the making of me. Instead, it’s felt more like an unmaking.. shining a harsh light on the person underneath – the bits of me I’ve clearly been hiding (or avoiding) this whole time. Layers of exhaustion, grief, people pleasing, deranged emotions, of giving and giving until I was empty. I’ve realised the rage doesn’t come from a lack of love – if anything, it’s from having too much of it. There’s so much love and so much responsibility.. plus the noise, the fear, the intrusive thoughts – all aimed at one tiny person, and it’s a lot for a sleep-deprived person to hold. Maybe that’s why it sometimes overflows. Who knows?
The Work That Doesn’t Feel Like Mine
When that noise dies down and I find moments to paint, it feels so foreign. The rhythm, the energy.. even when I get into that “flow state”, it’s not as flowy. It’s awkward, hesitant and forced. My marks and colours don’t feel like mine and overall, the work looks unfamiliar. Who is this artist?
Sometimes, I look at the paintings and think they’re ugly. Other times, I think they’re just honest. And today, when I stepped back to look at all of them together – they just felt wrong and unrecognisable. The marks, the layers and the way the colours were merging.. they made me uncomfortable. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe this is what the collection is meant to be – uncomfortable. Because motherhood is uncomfortable. Maybe the challenge is to leave them this way, to stop trying to “fix” or perfect them, and just let them be.
It’s the same surrender I had to learn during IVF. The same surrender I keep learning every day with a baby as my CEO. I’ve got to accept the mess and trust the process. Let go..
When I looked at them all together on the kitchen table, it was like I was reading a different language. I could feel my usual imposter syndrome lurking.. that negative voice whispering that I don’t belong here anymore. Hmm.. but maybe this discomfort means that I’m moving somewhere new. Perhaps this is what becoming looks like. Again, who knows??
She’s My Mirror
I see myself in Lilah when she looks up at me with that loving baby look.. also when she stares at the trees on our walks, and when she’s completely transfixed on a new toy, concentrating like her life absolutely depends on it. That’s when I see our resemblance – the bum chin, the straight eyebrows, the stubbornness.. It’s surreal, and actually rather confronting seeing myself reflected back at me like that.
It’s almost like she’s holding up a mirror and saying, “Mum, take a flipping breath”.. and a reminder to be patient, to stay calm and to not expect perfection – from either of us. Is it a sign to care for her how I would like to be cared for? Love her how I would want to be loved.
I can tell that this realisation is being filtered into my paintings. I’m trying hard to approach my work with a bit more patience.. and to let the mess stay messy, if you know what I mean. Maybe The Motherhood Collection is also about that – learning to mother myself just as much as I mother her. Who knows (again)? Perhaps I’m getting a bit deep, but hey ho.
What’s Coming Next
Unfortunately, the kitchen table is still my studio at the moment (our outdoor studio build is yet again on hold because, well.. baby). It’s covered in half-finished mugs of coffee, screwed-up kitchen roll, biscuit crumbs, paint splats and muslin cloths – so bouj.
As you know, The Motherhood Collection is still under the spotlight and it’s almost there now.. just a few final touches between naps and playdates. I’m seriously hoping to share it before Christmas. Pray for me, guys.
The 50 pieces feel very honest – and a little rough around the edges. The collection will certainly embody everything this season has been. Rage, patience, exhaustion, love, desperation, monotony.. it’s all in there with nowhere to hide.
2026 and Beyond: The Atelier Works
I’m jumping the gun here, but I also want to tell you about a new concept I’m considering for work in 2026: my “Atelier” pieces. The word “atelier” simply means artist’s studio – the place where the bigger and braver pieces are made. These works won’t belong to any collection. They’ll stand alone and be “enquire only” – no sales directly through my website. This encourages a dialogue between myself and the potential collector, so we can talk about the work in more depth. These pieces will feel different.
I’m imagining larger, more deliberate paintings that expose this new me, whoever she is – an artist that’s emerging from everything that’s happened over the past few years. They’ll be heavier, more layered, and probably a bit riskier too. A new chapter, I suppose. Like some sort of creative becoming.
The first works won’t appear until at least spring 2026, but they’re lingering in the background (of my mind), slowly conceptualising as I find my rhythm again.
If you’ve been following along, thank you for sticking with me through all this chaos. If you’d like to join the private launch of The Motherhood Collection, make sure you’re signed up to my mailing list.. and keep an eye out for the Atelier works next year.