A picture from a recent keynote, Courage to Birth Dreams, where I shared my dream of one day letting myself become a painter, after ignoring the urge for twenty years.

My abstract art evolves like life. It’s messy and chaotic. As in life, I focus on what I know and trust that everything will eventually work together for good. I start by randomly, yet intuitively, layering the canvas with color, texture, and expressive marks. For a while, individual facets may not necessarily relate. Then all of a sudden, magic happens and clarity begins to surface. Shapes take form and I find myself solving a puzzle with clues that have been there all along.

Slowly, balance finds its way into the chaos and creates meaning in the composition of my art, as well as in my life. I see now how every single stroke had its purpose, regardless of what remains visible in the end. Gratitude surfaces and the next steps become clearer. What appeared to be a crazy, disjointed mess becomes intentionally simplified in order to place emphasis on what matters most. Decisions must be made regarding what to keep, what to lose, and perhaps, what to bring back.

I’m often asking myself questions. What works? What doesn’t? Sometimes it’s difficult to tell. I proceed anyway, because rarely is any move so permanent that it cannot be undone or recovered. A life lived unafraid of mistakes, is a life really lived and one of my constant aspirations!

In life and art, my perfectionist never tells me I’m good enough or that a piece is done, but I’m learning to ignore her deception. Life, my work, my art—they are not done, but this is where I am so far. Not where I used to be and not where I will be. I’m merely Finding the Gift each day, stopping at interesting places and letting my creativity flow. As I step out of my comfort zone to show more of my true colors, I hope others will be inspired to follow their own heART and do the same.

* All artwork on this site is the exclusive copyrighted works of Angela Howell.  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Any unlawful redistribution or reproduction of artwork featured on this site without prior express written authorization of the copyright owner is strictly prohibited. If you’d like to purchase the artwork, please contact Angela.

An old journal entry where I described my dream of being a painter in 2011. This came true several years later, long after forgetting I even wrote my dream down.

I have avoided painting for over two decades. The unexplained longing kept showing up and every few years I purchased more brushes, canvases and paint, sometimes even the occasional how-to book, but I always put them in a drawer or closet for someday.

You see, I had another voice that came with the longing to get lost in paint, to get out of my head and let my soul speak in this new language. That voice had a lot to say, such as, “You don’t know how to paint. You don’t have any training. You wouldn’t even know where to begin. Why do you keep wasting your money? You have more productive things to do. You don’t have time to paint. That’s stupid.” And so on. You may know this voice as well as I do.

After tiring of this war within, I decided in 2014 to treat myself to a few lessons from a trusted friend who is an accomplished artist and a passionate teacher. Soon we realized I was drawn more to abstract art and she referred me to my eighty-two year old mentor. I took several series of classes with her and almost every day, I wanted to quit. I was frustrated. I hated being a beginner and giving myself permission to not know what I was doing. The voice said, “You have no talent and you need to stop making a fool of yourself.” The quiet longing said, “No, let’s keep going. I love the feeling of paint on my hands.”

When I published my book, Finding the Gift, the launch party was held at an artsy coffee shop in November, 2015. For some unknown reason, I decided I wanted to have several of my paintings at my book launch. I was nervous about showing my friends a new side of me (what if they thought they were awful?) yet determined to do it anyway. On the day of the party, I seemed more focused on how to get those eight paintings there than minding the other details like catering and the book displays. I thought to myself, “This is ridiculous! Why am I putting so much pressure on myself to have these works at my book launch party?” But I wanted my art to surround me and help tell the story of emergence—of coming to life when my corporate career ended in disability and left me scratching my head, clueless of what else I could possibly do with my next forty years.