Emily Lovejoy

05/23/2026

A little trip to Dauphin Island for Enrique’s Birthday. 

We spent the week collecting moments — sandy feet, sunsets, grilling everynight, putting on old movies, watching Wyatt experience wonder. The kind of memories that feel ordinary while they’re happening and sacred once you realize they won’t exist in quite the same way again.

It’s all part of what I’ve been exploring lately: the tension between the present moment and the fleeting nature of it, between who we are alone and who we become through each other.

Anyway… here’s to family, the ocean, and birthdays that turn into memories we’ll carry forever. 🌊 🎂 🐚

05/22/2026

Sitting Side by Side, acrylic on canvas 16 x 20 in.

05/08/2026

Motherhood has changed the way I understand everything.

Before becoming a mom, I thought identity was relatively singular. Artist. Photographer. Woman. Separate roles orbiting around a central being.

But motherhood dissolves that illusion.

Now life feels defined less by separation and more by the convergence of everything. Creating while being needed, holding grief while experiencing immense joy, caring for someone else while trying to remain connected to myself. The boundaries between these versions of me have become porous, and somehow, my work has become clearer because of it.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the relationship between the individual and the collective. Where does one begin and the other end?

There is no version of me now that exists independently of Wyatt, and no version of my work untouched by the life surrounding it.

I used to think transformation happened privately. Now I think it ripples out, reshaping everything around us. Maybe that’s what motherhood has really taught me so far, that love rearranges the architecture of the self.

05/07/2026

My Winter Language | 26” x 40” acrylic on raw canvas

05/02/2026

I’ve been thinking a lot about the frequency my work holds, now that so much out there is created without a person physically making marks on a surface. Each mark feels alive, like a small record of energy. In the moment when my hand draws across the canvas, something passes from me to painting.

04/25/2026

The Tides Are Turning | 14x14 inches

Love this one 🌊

04/23/2026

Remembering the beauty of the small moments.

04/18/2026

Had to. ❤️‍🔥

04/13/2026

04/08/2026

Spring things 🌷🌻🪻