Stewardship of a Creative Ecosystem

Meeting People Where They Are

There was a moment in college that quietly changed the direction of my life.

I was painting a series of dying sunflowers. My father was losing his battle with Hepatitis C. I was lost, angry, confused, vulnerable, and trying to understand a world that didn’t make much sense.

The painting studio smelled of turpentine and oil paint when a classmate stopped behind me and quietly said, “I wish I could see what you see.”

She would later become my wife.

In that moment I fell in love — not because she admired the painting, but because she wanted to understand how I experienced the world. I made a promise to myself that day. I would spend my lifetime painting so she could see what I saw.

Years passed. Somewhere along the way I realized I was no longer painting so others could understand me. I was painting because it reminded me who I was.

Whenever I lose my way, I pick up a paintbrush. Painting has a way of leading me back to myself. It reminds me that I am a person.

Being a person means seeing others and meeting them where they are.

Replace this with your sunflower painting, studio image, or a detail shot of your work.

A Creative Ecosystem

I believe a creative ecosystem is a space where one is allowed to grow into who they are.

I didn’t create that ecosystem. I inherited it.

Writers, artists, teachers, mentors, friends, family, and complete strangers planted seeds in my life long before I ever picked up a brush.

When I read Walt Whitman, I hear a voice still walking beside me. When I stand before the work of Max Beckmann, I am reminded to look a little deeper. They never knew me, yet their work helped shape the person I became.

That realization changed how I understood my own work. I wasn’t creating in isolation. I had become part of something much larger than myself.

The Invitation

Let’s Draw

Some things cannot be fully explained. They have to be entered.

If my son Hayden ever asked me what a creative ecosystem was, I wouldn’t try to define it for him. Hayden is non-verbal because he has Down Syndrome, so I would meet him where he is.

I would hand him a marker and a piece of paper and simply say, “Let’s draw.”

Sometimes an invitation teaches more than an explanation ever could.

Gratitude

A few years ago, I faced the possibility of losing my job because of vehicle issues.

I asked for help. People answered.

Through a community fundraiser, enough support was raised to help me get back on my feet. That generosity stayed with me. It reminded me that none of us create, struggle, or succeed alone.

I wanted to give something back — not because I could ever repay those acts of kindness, but because I wanted to continue the cycle that had carried me.

Art was the only honest way I knew how.

Presence

Creativity is not limited to painting.

I find the same sense of presence while repairing something, writing poetry, or driving down a back road.

Beauty isn’t complicated. Beauty is being present.

When we slow down enough to listen, life has a way of telling us what is needed next.

Sometimes the answer is to paint. Sometimes it is to repair. Sometimes it is simply to keep moving forward.

Home

As a father of five, I have made a conscious effort to let my children see this way of living.

I don’t care whether they become artists.

I hope they live lives full of curiosity, discovery, and joy.

I hope they know that creativity is not reserved for artists. It is one of the ways we remain fully human.

Life Happens

The old Volkswagen Beetle was not part of some grand plan.

It entered my life after my Ford C-Max was totaled in an accident. I had just left the hospital after visiting my mother, who had been rushed into emergency surgery. She didn’t look like my mother anymore. I was exhausted, emotionally drained, and on the drive home I ran a stop sign. The accident totaled my car.

The Beetle became a practical way to keep moving forward.

What began as a stopgap slowly became something more. Like painting, it reminds me to slow down, pay attention, and be present.

I don’t know exactly where that journey will lead, but I have learned to trust that life has a way of revealing what is needed next.

Replace this with one of your Beetle photos.

Stewardship

The seed never sees the flower, but it is still planted with faith and hopes that something will grow.

That is stewardship.

It is caring for something that existed before us and trusting it will continue long after we are gone.

Every painting I leave behind is planted with that hope.

Not in hopes of being remembered, but in hopes that someone, somewhere, might be reminded to keep creating.

Being human is hard enough. My hope is that my work reminds people to keep creating anyway.

Being human is hard enough.

My hope is that my work reminds people to keep creating anyway.

Joey Embers

Meet people where they are.
Plant seeds with faith that something will grow.

Create · Share · Inspire · #GivingBack

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