How to Grieve (with Art)
We often hear the phrase art is therapy. We encourage people to paint, draw, write or sculpt as a way to process their emotions, and as an artist, I could not agree more.
Creating has always been my way of making sense of the world, of turning pain into something tangible.
But recently, I’ve been thinking more deeply about how simply observing and appreciating art can be therapy in itself. The images and colours we choose to live with, the artworks that catch our eye and stay with us: these things have an immense impact on our mental health. Art surrounds us, shaping the way we think and feel.
Grief, after all, is not only about losing a person. It can be about losing a dream, a moment in time, or a version of yourself. Art can help you hold that grief in your hands and give it shape. It can become a way to honour what was, and to make space for what is still to come.
Commissioned art can carry this meaning in a very personal way. Perhaps it’s a painting based on the last photo of you and your mum. Or the last image on your camera roll before you received life-changing news. These moments can be transformed into timeless pieces that remind you of love, resilience and growth, not just loss.
But you don’t have to commission a painting for art to hold power in your life. Maybe you walk into a gallery and see your gran’s favourite rose in a painting, and you hang that artwork in your kitchen. Every time you pass it, you remember the meals you shared around her table, and how her legacy still lives through you. The artist might never know the significance of their work, but that doesn’t make it any less meaningful.
Perhaps you’ll start looking differently at the Old Masters, at Caravaggio’s shadows that hold the weight of human suffering, or at the deep, knowing eyes in a Rembrandt portrait. Maybe you’ll see Dadaism not as chaos, but as humanity’s collective cry after losing its sense of direction. Perhaps a large red Rothko might stir an anger you thought was long gone, or an Andy Warhol print might suddenly feel like a mirror to the world’s obsession with repetition and consumption.
Art gives us a language when words fall short. It helps us recognise emotions we didn’t know we were carrying. Whether we are creating it or simply standing in front of it, art allows us to feel, and feeling is, in itself, a kind of healing.
Maybe life isn’t always that deep. But maybe it is.
And wherever you are right now (grieving, rebuilding, rediscovering) allow art to walk beside you. Let it help you make sense of your own encounter with this world and its many complexities.
If you are ready to turn your own memories or emotions into something timeless, consider commissioning a piece that reflects your story.
Art can be a way of saying: I remember, I understand, I am still here.
