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Keeping My Practice Relevant: Notes on Life, Art, and Collectors

September 16th, 2025 by Emma

Let’s start off with a blunt truth: I seriously have a problem with chasing trends. It completely tears us away from our authentic selves and can fuel self-loathing if you’re trying to be someone you’re not, or creating things that don’t feel you. I do, however, tune into life patterns. My work changes with the seasons of life.. and for the last few years, I’ve seen collectors investing in and purchasing art that feels grounded, story-led, and emotionally legible. I’ve broken down some of the shifts I’m seeing and how my recent and upcoming collections put those ideas to work.

1. Colours Rooted in Nature

What I’m seeing: Earth-toned palettes: ochres, olive greens, clay pinks, soft yellows. Hues that bring calm, tactility and a sense of place into homes.
How I use it: T E R R A I N (2022) and New Terrain (2023) were built from countryside walks and gut-led mark making: thirsty-grass yellow, hedge-olive, sky-washed greys. In Sevilla (2023), I stripped things back to simple still life works to translate a city’s heat and rhythm onto paper during a seriously hard mental patch. The upcoming Motherhood Collection leans on pale hope-yellows, muted lilacs, mossy greens.. colours found on pram walks and in the small, restorative pauses of the day.
Why it matters to collectors: Nature-anchored palettes play well with real interiors (wood, linen, stone) and age gracefully.

2. Paintings Driven By Personal Stories

What I’m seeing: Abstraction that carries a clear emotional signal – a symbol, feeling, or rhythm that makes the piece relatable or cause an inner spark.
How I use it: In Soul (2024), the chair became a stand-in for presence, absence, and conversation. Rousseau’s Tale: Talking About You – selected for Sixteen Gallery’s Open Call 2025 – folds childhood memory (copying Rousseau at age seven), a recent museum encounter, and adult longing into one warm, lived-in palette.
Why it matters to collectors: Work with a readable emotional centre tends to be timeless.. it keeps offering new entry points without demanding a single “correct” interpretation.

3. Paintings with Collaborative Narratives

What I’m seeing: Collectors and audiences want to be part of the story.
How I use it: Snapshots (2023) turned 50 submitted moments from lives around the world into Polaroid-style paintings. Seeds (2023) transformed mantras from subscribers and collectors into 22 originals (+ 3 limited edition prints) – planted by you, grown by me. The in-progress Motherhood Collection (2025) is shaped by hundreds of anonymous submissions – not only from mothers, but from anyone connected to the idea of mothering: sons, daughters, partners, people longing, grieving, resisting, remembering.
Why it matters to collectors: A co-created meaning = stronger attachment. You’re not just buying a painting.. you’re collecting a lived thread of human experience.

4. Small Intimate Works Take the Spotlight

What I’m seeing: Serious collecting at smaller scales – pieces that fit real walls and real budgets without losing depth.
How I use it: Snapshots (50 small works) and the Motherhood Collection (each piece 5″ × 6″) are designed as intimate originals .. mementos you can live with daily.
Why it matters to collectors: Small works can be an ideal entry point for those beginning a collection or working with a smaller budget. They slip easily into spaces that larger canvases can’t – filling an awkward corner, becoming a hidden gem on a gallery wall, or standing alone as an intimate focal point. Smaller pieces often carry a more personal, memento-like quality too, making them feel like treasured keepsakes while still speaking the full language of the artist’s practice

5. Art That Mirrors Life

What I’m seeing: Audiences respond to artists who evolve – openly – with major life shifts.
How I use it: I am an over-sharer.. and I’m not ashamed or afraid to say it. Call me negative, glass-half empty or exhausting if you like – but it’s important for me to tell you as it is. I’m not going to sugarcoat anything or hide truths for the sake of appearing perfect and strong. From grief (The How Series, 2018–2024) to infertility (Soul, 2024) to new beginnings (Motherhood, 2025, in progress), my studio work mirrors my life. Some bodies of work arrive as sprints (50 Paintings / 50 Poems); others are slow, evolving stories (Terrain, New Terrain).
Why it matters to collectors: Growth over time means each painting, whether from years ago or just finished, carries extra context and significance for a collector.

6. Talk About the How What Why (This is a Big One)

What I’m seeing: Collectors aren’t just drawn to the finished piece.. they want to understand the how, what, and why behind it. Not as a gimmick, but as insight into the craft, choices, and lived experiences that shape the work.
How I use it: Repetition shows up in my work in many forms – counted marks, blocked breaths, or even parquet flooring painted tile by tile.. all rhythms that mirror the endurance of infertility, the humdrum of waiting, and the relentlessness of early motherhood. At the same time, big washes of colour often carry emotion: soft yellows for hope, earthy greens for grounding, or heavy rust tones for fatigue and frustration. Repetitive mark making can signal monotony, impatience, or time passing, while large erratic scribbles become outlets for anger, overwhelm, or restlessness.

The composition of a piece might echo a landscape, a room, or even a fleeting thought pattern, while still life collections often reveal my own need to slow down, anchor myself in the present, and notice small joys. On the flip side, more abstract works emerge when an emotion feels too complex or raw, so I let my hands translate it into form and texture.

Through all of this, materials remain intentional: paper, canvas, pencil, pastel, and bespoke frames that respect and preserve the work. Together, these choices build a visual language where colour, mark, and form become signposts of both my lived experiences and the universal feelings they touch.
Why it matters to collectors: Understanding the how, what, and why behind a piece gives collectors confidence in its care, thoughtfulness, and durability.. the qualities that make an artwork worth living with and cherishing over time.

How I’m implementing all of these ideas in the studio right now

• Palette notebooks: swatches from daily walks (thirsty-grass yellow, moss-green, pavement-grey, that nameless lilac bloom).
• Mark making process: repeated lines for longing, stacked strokes for “trying again,” soft washes for breath, huge scribbles for frustration, coiled pencil for a journey
• Size with intention: intimate 5″ × 6″ originals for Motherhood to encourage a circle of collectors who should never feel alone
• Community in the work: submissions from other humans continue to guide compositions, titles and tone.
• Seasonal honesty: my work changes with the seasons of life – and that’s the point. I’ll never apologise for “letting it all hang out”.

Where to start (if you’re collecting)

• Discover nature-rooted palettes: T E R R A I N (2022), New Terrain (2023).
• Explore story-forward abstraction: Soul (2024) and the chair series, including Rousseau’s Tale: Talking About You.
• Collect community-sourced pieces: Snapshots (2023), Seeds (2023).
• See the evolution: The How Series (2018–2024) to Soul (2024) to Motherhood (2025, in progress).
• Curated availability: Artist Selected Works brings together significant pieces from 2018–2024.

Translating Life to Canvas: A Collection Throwback (2022–2025)

August 13th, 2025 by Emma

Between 2022 and 2025, my work unfolded alongside one of the most defining journeys of my life: the struggle to become a mother. Much of it was shaped in the quiet ache of infertility – months (years) spent wondering if it would ever be my turn. Painting became both a lifeline and a way to move with the tides of grief, hope, and renewal. From deeply personal series to collaborative projects built from others’ stories, these years proved how art can hold both turbulence and beauty. With the arrival of my daughter, Lilah, this chapter closes in profound joy, bringing new rhythm and light to my life and work.

Terrain: Layers of Life in the Landscape

Terrain (2022) is born from a dialogue between hand, mind, and body – a practice rooted in the belief that our internal environment shapes our experiences and expressions. Each painting is guided by the landscape of my inner self, my instincts, and my embodied intuition. The physical, emotional, and psychological terrain I inhabit informs every mark, shape, and colour, creating work that is as much a reflection of inner topography as it is of the external world.

The ideas behind the collection remain intentionally hidden, leaving space for you, the viewer and collector, to inhabit your own interpretation. Terrain invites you to explore the landscapes of your own perception, to feel, imagine, and connect. May these works resonate with your instincts, reflecting whatever meaning or emotion you choose to place upon them.

Take care of your pieces. Take care of your terrain.

New Terrain: Where Hands Follow Heart

New Terrain (2023) continues my exploration of terrain – not just the physical ground beneath us, but the internal landscapes that shape who we are. Inspired by lyrics from Alanis Morissette’s Not as We, the collection captures the tension between the familiar and the unknown, moments where instinct guides the hand and mind.

Exhibited at Sixteen Gallery in Cheltenham, the collection presents works created intuitively over the years, reflecting my personal journey of self-care, grounding, and navigating life’s challenges. Deeply dedicated to my late father, these paintings explore contrasts – light and shadow, softness and sharpness, growth and decay – inviting viewers to reflect, escape, and connect with their own evolving terrain.

Lemons: Small Charms, Big Encouragement

Lemons (2023) is a prequel to the Seeds collection (below), launched on Friday 24th February 2023. This small series of original drawings was created as lucky charms – each piece a personal keepsake to remind you that “you’ve got this.”

Designed to inspire hope, strength, and resilience, these artworks serve as gentle daily affirmations. On the tough days, they’re a visual nudge, a reminder of your own inner power and the ability to navigate life’s challenges. Collect a lemon, and carry a little spark of optimism wherever you go.

Seeds: Planted by You, Grown by Me

Seeds (2023) is a collection of 22 original paintings and 3 limited edition giclée prints, born from the ideas, life mottos, and mantras submitted by my subscribers, collectors, friends, and followers. Each contribution acted as a seed – tiny sparks of thought, intention, or reflection.. that I nurtured and translated into visual form.

This collection is a meditation on growth: physical, emotional, spiritual, and conversational. It celebrates the potential inherent in every seed we plant, whether in our own lives or in the lives of others, and reflects the interconnectedness of our shared experiences. Every brushstroke is an acknowledgment that where seeds are sown, something beautiful can take root.

Snapshots: Capturing Candid Moments

Snapshots (2023) is a 50-piece collection of original paintings, created in a unique Polaroid-inspired style. Each piece depicts a scene, vista, or intimate moment submitted by friends, family, and collectors – from lives around the world.

This collection is a heartfelt celebration of the everyday. It highlights how these small, personal moments – often overlooked in the rush of life – are the very fabric that makes each of our journeys unique and meaningful. By translating these snapshots into paintings, I want to honour the beauty, complexity, and significance of daily life as lived by so many.

It’s about slowing down, appreciating the present, and seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary. The collection invites viewers to reflect on their own stories, memories, and connections, reminding us all that it’s these moments that truly matter.

Sevilla: Colour, Life, and Escape

Sevilla (2023) was born from a need to step outside my own head. During a deeply difficult time in our infertility journey, I found myself overwhelmed and utterly miserable. To take my mind off it, I turned to the city itself – its vibrance, kindness, energy, and warmth – and translated what I saw onto paper.

This collection focuses on simplicity: basic still lifes, honest observations, and the colours that defined the city in that moment. Each piece is a small attempt to capture life as it was there and then, grounding myself in what I could see, feel, and touch.

Sevilla became both a subject and a sanctuary – a way to move through despair by immersing myself in the vibrancy of the streets, the stomp of the flamenco dancers, the sun-soaked patios, and the pulse of everyday life. These paintings are my visual record of that escape, of finding clarity and colour amidst personal struggle.

50 Paintings / 50 Poems: The Dialogue Between Brush and Verse

During a period of artist’s block and transition between collections, I set myself a challenge to create 50 paintings in 50 days (2023). This project became a vital stopgap – an unfiltered exploration of whatever inspired my mind and hands each day. The results are a diverse mix of abstract works, landscapes, and still life, each reflecting the spontaneous energy of the moment.

Alongside every painting, I penned a raw, honest haiku – a poetic snapshot capturing the emotions or thoughts behind the brushstrokes. This collection is a testament to the power of creativity as a form of release, renewal, and personal expression during uncertain times.

Soul: Between Dusk and Dawn

Soul (2024) began as an intimate confrontation with despair and exhaustion – a visual diary of a spirit wrestling with overwhelming life challenges. The blank canvases initially felt daunting, yet they became the very space where resilience and hope gradually took form.

This collection encompasses intimate meditation paintings, large instinctive emotional canvases, and the deeply personal Chair Collection, each piece contributing to the layered narrative of endurance and healing.

Through every mark and brushstroke, this body of work reveals a journey of embracing vulnerability and confronting adversity head-on. Originally meant to capture triumph over hardship, the work evolved into a candid reflection of struggle, creative paralysis, and eventual surrender.

“Soul” stands as a powerful testament to the human spirit’s capacity to endure and express even in the darkest moments – offering a glimpse into my soul, raw and unfiltered.

Artist Selected Works: A Personal Retrospective

This exclusive collection features my most cherished and available artworks, handpicked for their unique significance in my artistic journey so far. Each piece holds a personal story, representing milestones and moments that have shaped my creative evolution over the years.

Now, while I’m on maternity leave and embracing this beautiful new chapter of motherhood, this collection offers a rare opportunity to own a meaningful part of my journey – a connection that supports the continued breath of my practice during this special time.

I am deeply grateful for your support and invite you to explore these special works. If you’d like to learn more about the story behind any piece, please feel free to reach out via email.

The How Series: Process, Exploration, and Discovery

Since 2018, The How Series has been my personal journey of translating life’s sights, sounds, and emotions into abstract marks. Starting with 75 pieces inspired by moments of loss and growth, the collection has evolved alongside my artistic style and life experiences.

Now, with 25 new final pieces inspired by travels to Greece and personal reflections, the series reaches completion at 100 works. These abstract artworks capture how I’ve come to see and feel the world, offering a visual language that connects deeply with collectors worldwide.

The Motherhood Collection: Love, Struggle, and Transformation

The Motherhood Collection (2025) is a heartfelt exploration of nurturing, growth, and transformation – not just from my own perspective, but through the eyes and stories of a wider community. I invited people from all walks of life to share moments and memories that resonate with themes of care, change, and connection. These submissions are now inspiring the creation of the collection, which is still in progress. Together, they form the foundation for a rich tapestry of experiences that highlight the universal emotions behind motherhood and life’s many stages. Each future painting will reflect these unique stories, aiming to create a collective celebration of resilience, love, and the deep bonds that shape us all.

For me, this collection is intensely personal. It’s emerging after years of longing, heartache, and the uncertainty of infertility – a journey that tested my patience, hope, and resilience. Hundreds of torturous nights spent wondering if it would ever be my turn shaped the emotional core of these works. When Lilah Hope Munson finally arrived, on her due date, under a bright moon, the miracle of her birth brought light, love, and awe… but it also kicked off a whole new, challenging chapter.

Motherhood has been just as difficult as it has been miraculous. I’ve felt rage, exhaustion, despair, and the disorienting loss of identity, alongside moments of joy, healing, and deep connection. I’m still finding my way through it all. It’s funny – the collection is a total oxymoron.. a cry for help, a raw reflection of struggle, and yet also a celebration of the miraculous, tender, and transformative nature of motherhood. It holds both the darkness and the light, honouring the messy, beautiful truth of this journey.

The Motherhood Collection: New Art That Speaks to Strength, Story, and Soul

July 27th, 2025 by Emma

This 2025 collection of original artwork is a visual language for everything we struggle to say about motherhood, identity, and healing. These pieces will do more than just decorate walls – they will tap into memories, emotions, and truths that live just beneath the surface of all of us.

It Starts With a Story

I want to start this blog post with a personal story – because, really, it’s the story that catalysed this entire body of artwork. I’m often in two minds about how much I share with the big wide world. If you know me in real life, you’ll know I’m someone who brutally (and sometimes regretfully) overshares -someone who tells it how it is and wears vulnerability on my sleeve. But online, I’m a tad more hesitant. Some things feel like they should stay on a “need to know” basis.

My IVF journey probably would’ve stayed under wraps… but a creative flame has been lit – and from it, an art collection is growing. So, as potential collectors and art community members, maybe you do need to know.

After a few years of infertility and an investigative operation, we were advised to follow the path of IVF to help find the souls of our babies. It still feels surreal to write that – and I can’t quite believe we went through it.

For those who don’t know, IVF is a gruelling process – emotionally, mentally, and physically. It doesn’t just put your body through the wars; it also wreaks havoc on your mind. For me, it shattered my sense of control – and deeply shook my ego (and still does, to this day).

I kept thinking the universe was testing me, teasing me, punishing me. It knew how much I’d avoided medication or biological intervention for most of my life… and now here I was, injecting myself with the highest dose of synthetic hormones, day after day. Every sharp pinch of the needle was a painful reminder that my body couldn’t do this alone.. that it wasn’t working “naturally.” Others did, why didn’t mine? As someone who is pretty meticulous about health and fitness, why has this happened to me?

I wallowed, sobbed and fully embedded myself into this victimhood. I withdrew from everything, refused to see friends and sat on my couch for months and months, feeling sorry for myself (and for Jon, who had to watch his wife essentially disappear). He was going through it, too. And boy, did I keep forgetting that. I was a selfish fool, totally enveloped by my “woe is me” attitude and constant life comparisons.

After the egg collection, the wait was gut wrenching. The IVF clinic phoned the day afterwards to tell us how many eggs fertilised and then each subsequent day, how the embryos were doing. You don’t need to know numbers here, but fast forward.. our first embryo transfer failed. I smashed things up in the house, I curled up in a ball on the floor, I screamed into pillows and talked to a dull face in the mirror… then we forced ourselves on our trip to Austria. To the mountains. Rest. Reset. Breathe.

Fast forward to our second embryo transfer and a trip to Snowdonia where I screamed into the gigantic sky “give us a sign our baby will reach us”.. we finally had our positive. 9ish months later, Lilah Hope Munson was born on her exact due date.

Entering Motherhood

Now, I have to be clear – the gratitude I have for Lilah is monumental. Monumental. But I have to hold my hands up to this – I found the “newborn trenches” horrific. Shocking, debilitating, terrifying and guilt-ridden. Sobbing in the bath, screaming into pillows (again), driving away not wanting to return, using words I’d never normally use 👀, smashing bowls and well, you get the picture.

Look, I’m not just saying this to be negative or to complain or to even excuse my behaviour, but as far as I’m aware (from both medical and mum conversations), Lilah was a particularly difficult newborn. No point going into detail – if you know, you know.

Be that as it may, and fast forward 6 months (where we are now), I truly believe that Lilah’s soul was matched with mine for a reason. You’ll know from my past collections and reflections that I believe our entire lives and character development revolve around nourishing lessons. Hard times are blessings in disguise, and moments for reflection, education and evolution.

N.B. on motherhood.
If you’re someone who is still longing to become a mother – I see you, I hear you, I feel you. I know this collection might stir complex feelings, and I want you to know you’re not forgotten here. Your story, your ache and your hope – it matters deeply. And I’m firmly holding your hand through this, quietly and lovingly, as you navigate it all. This collection holds space for your journey too. Also, if you ever want to talk to someone outside of your own circle about it, please never hesitate to email or DM me on Instagram. I spoke daily to a very special somebody (also been through IVF), who I was connected with through an art collector (you know who you are) – and I’m not sure I would have got through it all without her coaching.

Now It’s Time For Your Story

While my story may have lit the first creative spark, this collection isn’t just about me. In fact, it very quickly became about us (meaning you, too).

As I’ve found myself navigating motherhood – healing, breaking, softening, growing.. then also attending various Mum meets and repairing my friendships with those with babies etc.. I started to realise that what I was experiencing wasn’t unique to me. The loneliness, intensity, joy, rage, devotion, and complete undoing that comes with becoming a mother is something so many of us carry, silently. I knew that an art collection had to be made from this and it would hold more than just my own story.

So, I opened the door to the rest of you.

Nearly 100 submissions have flooded in from mothers, daughters, grandmothers, fathers, birth workers, those longing to become parents, and those still deep in the fog… I read through each one – every line and every tear-jerking truth. And I’m going to translate these words (along with my experience/feelings) into abstract paintings – 50 to be exact.

Every painting in this 50-piece collection is paired with a real story (or two), a shared memory and a collective truth. For example there’s a piece called Beautiful Chaos, another named The Rage is Real, one that asks Did I Change or Begin? – and all of them are drawn from lived experience.

This collection is raw, emotional, and unapologetically honest – a visual language for what’s often hard to say out loud. Through texture, layers, mark-making, and movement, each piece speaks to something deeper than our maternal biology. While personal motherhood experience sparked this work, its reach goes far beyond those who have carried a child.

It’s meant for every stage of life: those who mother quietly and invisibly.. for the sons and daughters still healing from their own mothers, and anyone who has lost a baby, a mother, or a version of themselves. It holds space for the hopeful, the grieving, and those who are remembering. It’s also for partners trying to understand, and grandmothers who carry generations in their hands.. or indeed those who are trying to break free from their generational “curses”.

Whether you see yourself in the exhaustion, the transformation, the quiet rituals, or the wild, overwhelming love – this collection was made to hold all of it. A daily reminder: you are not alone.

See this collection as a visual archive of becoming, with emphasis on loss, love, and rebirth.

I can’t wait to share it with you.

The Details

Each original artwork in The Motherhood Collection will be:

5 x 6 inches, acrylic, oil and mixed media on paper

£80 unframed or £112 in a bespoke frame.

There will be just 50 in total – each a one-off original piece.

Launch date is TBC, but subscribers to my mailing list will receive an exclusive private launch invitation before the collection is made public. Early access, early love.

If you have any questions about the collection, please do not hesitate to ask via my contact page.

Soul Testaments: The Chair Collection

June 30th, 2024 by Emma

“Soul Testaments: The Chair Collection” is a series of 15 individual paintings, each featuring a solitary chair set against a variety of environments.

Each chair stands as a testament to what it is to be human, capturing moments of quiet introspection and the silent stories of those who once occupied them (or who will occupy them). A chair that sits alone can be seen as a silent witness to the passage of time, a sanctuary from life’s chaos, a marker of personal space and individuality, or an image of waiting, hoping, and enduring.

“Soul Testaments” invites the viewer to see beyond the surface, encouraging a deeper reflection on the essence of human existence. The empty chairs may signify loss or absence, yet they also offer a sense of resilience and permanence amidst changing surroundings. They stand as symbols of endurance, capturing the quiet strength found in moments of stillness and the profound stories that emerge from silence.

This collection is not just a visual journey but an emotional one, inviting each viewer to find their own connection with the solitary chairs and to ponder the subtle yet powerful narratives they convey. Through this body of work, we are reminded of the enduring nature of the human spirit, the personal spaces we create, and the unspoken testament of our lives etched into the simple form of a chair.

Building an Art Collection: It’s a Meditative Journey

February 7th, 2024 by Emma

I felt the need to write words today, so here’s what happened.

Are you an art collector? Perhaps you aspire to be one.. or maybe you’ve never thought about it. Well, you’ve reached this post for a reason, so let’s take it as a sign. It’s time to expand your collection.. or start one. 😏✌🏼

Collecting art requires a certain curiosity

Being a collector of original artwork is more than just an investment, a hobby or to fill up your empty walls to match the cushions. It’s a life-long, personal journey that can be deeply meditative, often rewarding and an opportunity to reveal a little of your soul to those who would ever come across your collection. Just like meditation, collecting art requires curiosity, patience, focus, an open mind and a willingness to turn inwards and ask yourself questions. You know.. really get to know yourself.. and be open to learning about who you are, what you’re about, why you do what you do, why you like what you like.

Your art collection isn’t just about bringing colour into a room.. it’s also a way to tell the world what you really give a sh*t about. For example, say you purchase an artwork that displays a hilly landscape of a view from your hometown – this could tell people that you like where you live, that you’re an outdoorsy guy or gal and/or you’re quite sentimental about things.. perhaps the landscape triggers a certain memory or is a reminder to appreciate where you are. Another example – your most recent purchase is a chaotic, bold and aggressive abstract that you’ve displayed next to your dining room table. This could show that you’re energetic and bold in character, open to controversial conversations and/or somebody that deliberately wants to ‘make an obvious statement’ in your home.

Your art collection shows the world who you are.

Take your art choices seriously

The art of collecting paintings begins with simple observation. Each piece of art is a visual representation of the artist’s thoughts, feelings, traumas, experiences and ideas. As the collector, you’re not just acquiring a physical object; you’re buying a window with a view of the artist’s mind. And this process of observing, understanding, connecting with and then finally choosing a piece of art can be a meditative practice in its own right – similar to that mindfulness meditation we do (yes, do it every morning!) where we focus on the present moment and/or the cool breath running in and out of our nostrils.

Ok, so if you’re really serious about your status as an art collector, that very act of choosing and trying to work out which piece to get can get emotional. It requires self-reflection; you need to tune in to that inner dialogue, much like meditation mentioned just now. You must ask yourself why you’re drawn to that certain piece, how it makes you feel, and what it means to you.. what connects you with the artist and what would it mean to you to support them? This introspection can help you learn more about yourself and your tastes, just as meditation leads to self-discovery, inner calmness and a readiness to evolve.

You’re supporting a life

Collecting original artwork also means that you’re supporting the life of the artist (if they’re still living) – this in itself is a gratifying and profound achievement. You should be proud that you’re in a personal/financial position to be able to purchase real artwork and contribute to the life of the artist – you’re enabling us to continue our craft, you’re helping us purchase materials, you’re getting our work seen and you’re validating our existence.

On a personal level, not a day goes by where I don’t feel that flutter of gratitude towards those of you who collect my work across the world. There are quite a lot of you out there nowadays – some of you I talk to on really regular basis, some of you have become dear friends, some of you have built up a rather extensive collection (you know who you are), some of you are saving for your next piece, some of you are still deciding on your first.. whichever stage you are at, I’m so grateful to you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

A concluding note

Art. Oh, art. It has this monumental power that sparks all kinds of conversation; it stirs up emotions, triggers memories, catalyses fresh thinking patterns.. the list goes on. By engaging with it, collecting it and surrounding yourself with it, it makes you a special kind of person, you know. I’m not trying to butter your bread; I’m being real here. You’re creative, you’re courageous, you care deeply, you’re in tune with your inner self, you’re supporting lives of others, you’re open..

The next time you add another painting to your collection, take a moment to appreciate the meditative journey. It’s not just buying a print from IKEA. It’s so much more than that. Remember that collecting art is not just about possessing beautiful objects, but also about enriching your soul and supporting the life of another human.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Are you interested in a totally bespoke artwork/a commissioned piece? Perhaps an emotive abstract, a Matisse-style still life, a holiday snapshot or large landscape? I’m pretty open to the majority of briefs, so please do get in touch now and I’ll book you into my spring schedule.

2024 Update: Surrender To What Is & Solo Show

January 13th, 2024 by Emma

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

Snapshots (2023): a 50-piece collection to honour the sublimity of being human

April 17th, 2023 by Emma

It’s official.

A brand new collection is in the making.

And you’re going to love it.

Snapshots (2023) is a 50-piece collection of polaroid-style original paintings, depicting scenes, vistas and moments submitted by my friends, family and collectors (aka you) around the world. It’s important to appreciate the small things and see beauty in the everyday. These moments in life are what makes each of our journeys unique, and I want to celebrate that. The body of work will be comprised of a mixture of abstract landscapes and still life pieces – depending on what submissions I get, of course. 

The Title

Snapshots was sneakily stolen from my final project at High School Fine Art class (13 years ago). My focus was on the unposed and beautifully candid moments of life. I recall one of my final photographs being of a little girl at the zoo, staring at a snake in total bewilderment – such a wonderful moment to capture.

Now, I’m yearning to see more of life’s candour. From a simple bowl of fruit and a bottle of wine on the shelf to a weather-worn door and a windy cotswold hill view. We all have objects, views and moments in life that make us stop and smile. And this collection is going to celebrate yours (and maybe a couple of mine).

The Aesthetic

As a sporadic and multi-styled painter, I feel a collection like this will put an exciting (although intimidating) spotlight on my versatile hand and scattered mind – my abstract, still life and landscape skills will certainly be put to the test. To entice the eye and emphasise the image, the final pieces will have a polaroid-style aesthetic (see above).

Be that as it may, for this collection to truly come to life, I first need a wide range of snapshots. A photograph of something that catches your eye or makes you smile. I need you to show me a snapshot of something you want to remember.

Perhaps a magnificent mountain view, the best croissant you’ve ever had in Paris, your feet in socks and sandals, your last cup of tea with too many biscuits, plant pots on your window sill, the eclectic mix of books on your bookshelf, the most incredible plate of calamari in Greece, the empty glasses on a table after a long night, the moody weather outside your window… you know, the things that make you human; the things you’ve seen with your eyes and/or touched with your fingertips. I want to honour these moments of yours, just like I honour mine through the creation of art.

No humans, no animals and no pornography – thank you.

Think views, landscapes, buildings, objects, still life.

You can submit your snapshot via the button below. If you have trouble accessing the form, please send your snapshot along with a title/sentence about it to [email protected]

Artwork Details

• Only 50 original paintings
• Fluid acrylic and pencil on paper
• 5 x 6 inches
• £75 each (with bespoke framing available)
• The collection will launch on my website (date TBC)
• Not all submitted snapshots will make the cut for the collection

Optional Challenge

If you’re interested in collecting a snapshot painting, purchase someone else’s submitted memory – not your own. Spread the love, share stories and let us cherish each other’s simple moments in life. 

Thank you for helping this collection come to life. 

I can’t wait to see your snapshots.

Abstract Art vs Still Life: Painting Memories And Being Human

March 23rd, 2023 by Emma

As an artist who covers a wide range of styles – abstract, landscape, still life, sketching, digital drawing etc, I often get asked “what is your favourite way to paint?”

Abstract painting feels incredibly innate for my hands and head; my go-to thing for a meditative exercise and indeed the style that kickstarted my career as a professional artist. Painting in an abstract manner is a handy tool for when you’re feeling lost, angry and/or depressed. If you allow your hand to hold a paintbrush to drive your feelings, marks manifest and colours collide, consequently prompting a wave of relief to wash over. You can see your feelings on the surface in front of you, which actually allows them to become external instead of internal. I suppose it’s a little like frantically writing out your woes in a diary. Granted, this relief can be momentary.. but over time, I feel it helps you accept a situation or trauma. It makes the problem tangible and physical; an object you choose to view and a physical activity you choose to do – instead of being a scary, tangled up web in your head.

Abstract painting, for me, is also a way to uniquely translate sounds, sights and feelings experienced from life. When I want to quickly document a moment, in a non-literal way, I’ll jot down the marks and colours that come to mind when I’m having an interesting experience or if I’m enticed by something. See excerpt from one of my artist statements:

“A deep navy hue could be a woeful moment or the colour of a gentleman’s jacket; a wash of pale grey could be a loving conversation or a typical British cloud; an earthy green could be a Cotswold hill or the colour of a weathered road sign; a quick, rough mark could be a moment of frustration or a tyre blow-out on interstate 81”

Be that as it may, totally abstract painting isn’t the answer to the question “what is your favourite way to paint?“. (You’ll find this out in a bit.)

Yes, this style is overwhelmingly natural to my senses and brings a lot of comfort, but it’s me dealing with something or working to process something. That isn’t to say that all of my abstract paintings represent sadness or brokenness – not at all. On the contrary, you could say that they all represent healing, self-development and acceptance. I’m more referring to the reasons behind why the abstract obsession came about for me in the first place – it started with a tragedy.

Looking at my experience with abstraction as a whole, I often see the broken Emma who had just lost her Dad; an Emma that was working through one of her greatest fears of losing a parent and an Emma who used this type of painting to fight with the encompassing waves of grief.

Nowadays, abstraction has thankfully become a more positive and energetic part of my artist identity. Despite some of the sad words I write above, I’ll never stop painting abstracts – and the hundreds (maybe even thousands) of paintings I have created over the last few years will continue to live on and I’m grateful for that. They bring joy, brighten living spaces and spark interesting conversations – so for that, I praise the spectacle of abstraction.

So, what is my favourite way to paint?

It’s actually raw life documentation in the form of still life that I enjoy the most, and what best represents my identity as an artist. This method of art creation is a tool that helps me cherish, share, reminisce, smile, look forward and appreciate; all things that radiate positive thinking patterns and ignite inner self-worth/confidence.

Sketching observations from life, taking a snapshot and documenting candid moments is a necessity for me; a way to love and appreciate the life I’ve been given (hello deep). You can take photos, sure (and I often do) – but there’s something about connecting my mind, my senses and hands (plus paint and paper) to a moment that makes me remember it better and a way for it to live on. I’m also rejecting the limited, digital barricade that we often put between ourselves and actual life; those devices that make us resist reality, smother our authenticity and diminish our innate creativity. (You can probably guess what my views are on Chat GPT.)

My honeymoon, for example, Jon and I were at Eleftherias Square in Kos and we found a café called Lemon. Many of you will know that I’m creatively hypnotised by lemons. They make an appearance in a lot of my work. I’m obviously seduced by the colour, the smell, the metaphors around them, I don’t know. Anyway, I was enticed by this café, Lemon, and we both sat there in these boldly patterned chairs, watching the world go by. We ordered two crêpes and two glasses of water (yeahhh, we know how to party), and I remember feeling just pure contentment. So content to be there, with Jon, the sun on our faces, surrounded by lemons, watching Greek kittens dance and enjoying bloody great crêpes smothered in Nutella. I sat there wanting this moment to last forever – I remember thinking it. So, I sketched it and later painted it. And now the memory lives on, with a lovely collector here in the UK. This is just pure magic for me.

These painting practices allow memories to live on outside of the mind and photo albums; a tangible memory that will live on until it’s physically destroyed. Creating art like this is showing the world who you are, where you’ve been, what you’ve seen – all of the charming, individual things that make you human.

Another moment comes to mind: I was sat in a coffee shop on my own before an appointment (I was too early – standard), and I had one of my journals with me. In front of me was a couple that must have been on their first date – they were sweetly awkward and she didn’t want to share his lemon drizzle cake.The guy couldn’t find a drink he wanted. After quite a few minutes, he finally decided on a chocolate milkshake and the barista said they were out of it. Then the decision making had to start all over again. Me being me, I obviously documented this moment. And they’ll never know this, of course. Such a brief snapshot of their life that I’m sure they’ll forget, and there’s me in the corner scribbling it all down.

I smile when I think about that awkward lemon drizzle cake comment – maybe it’s just me that is moved by these brief scenes from life, but they seriously give me the urge to paint. Life seems to go by quickly the older you get (do you know what I mean?), so documenting experiences in the way I do helps to slow it down a little. And I make an effort to find beauty in the mundane. A towering stack of lemons in an old wooden crate, each carefully placed, differing shades of yellow overlapping each other and the puckered, waxy texture that you just have to touch, maybe even take one home. These kind of visuals in our everyday are usually overlooked, under appreciated and forgotten. Well, no way José – not in this artist’s lifetime. My eyes and ears are always open, and a painting will no doubt be at the other end.

Other humans are also fascinating, hence why we all love a good old people watching session (you know you do..). So, a lot of my inspiration actually comes from those around me – and they (you) don’t even know it. Viewing, admiring and collecting other people’s life moments (not just my own) just feels so marvellously endearing and a precious sentiment. Mentally, physically and emotionally, human connection is vital and we’d feel lost without others.

So, my favourite way to paint? Life snapshots, candid drawing and writing, documentation of moments, still life – just as it is, perfectly imperfect. 

N.B. I am aware of the hypocrisy that I’m on my digital device now, writing this, posting photos of my practice and interacting with you.. but I don’t think carrier pigeons would work out nowadays. I’ve also completely done my neck in, so I’m glued to the sofa today. Laptop/admin day it is. 

Collaboration With Sculpd: Finding Your Inner Painter

October 19th, 2022 by Emma

Earlier this year, U.K. pottery aficionados, Sculpd, approached me to try out their up and coming Abstract Canvas Painting Kit. Of course, I said yes. As someone who truly believes that we should all dip our toes in the water of our own individual creativity, I loved the idea of a ‘novice’ or someone who claims they ‘can’t paint’ having a go at building their own masterpiece from scratch, at home.

The team came to visit me at my last exhibition at Sixteen Gallery, where I was filmed putting their kit to the test – building the canvas frame, stretching the fabric and then slathering the soft acrylic paint across the blank surface. But first of all, I experienced the unboxing of the kit, just as a new customer would – and I’ve got to tell you, it’s pretty epic.

You’ll find a thorough but simple step-by-step guide on how to create your own abstract painting, with tips on composition, mark-making and knowing when your masterpiece is finished. In addition, you get a perfect range of painting tools (brushes, sponge and palette knife), a sturdy palette with compartments, five shades of silky soft acrylic paint (in a bold, neutral or pastel colour scheme), a study book to practice your colour mixing and mark-making, all parts to actually build the canvas and hooks to hang it once complete. Honestly, they’ve smashed it.

Once you’ve unboxed the kit and got to know your bearings, the canvas is super simple to stretch yourself – the wood slots together perfectly and the fabric is easy to stretch and manipulate. It’s extremely evident that the Sculpd product team have paid extra attention to the quality of this product. You’ll be seriously impressed with yourself (and Sculpd) by the end of it.

Time for painting – so, before I tackled the large canvas (60x80cm), I made sure to utilise the blank study book included in the kit. With this, it’s a good idea to get the hang of the paint (the colours, how it flows etc), let your hand feel the different tools, practice some mark-making and figure out what kind of composition you want to aim for. The guide included will also help with this – Sculpd developed it with a handful of abstract artists around the world, so we’ve all shared some top notch hints with you here!

When you get to the final piece, remember you’re doing this for fun. Experiment, flip the orientation, throw paint around, step away from it for an hour, head over to Instagram for some inspiration, work from your studies.. There’s absolutely no pressure and zero rules here – do whatever feels right and trust your gut. You can paint.

The three canvas pieces you see above were all made with the materials supplied by Sculpd, and you can totally do the same. It’s a great activity – mentally and physically. If you’re not quite brave enough yet, perhaps get a friend or family member to try it first for their Christmas present. 😉

FYI, the colour scheme I used was titled ‘bold’, but you have two others to choose from.

Oh, and obviously, Gibson met the team. He did his usual ‘crunch face’ at the crew (a.k.a showing them his teefs), but it’s just a hello and he (luckily for me) behaved himself. He even worked his way into some shots. Typical retriever: absolutely hogging the attention (that’s fine with me).

All images supplied by Sculpd (2022). This was a paid partnership. Huge thank you to the team for this incredible opportunity. Can’t wait for the world to start painting.