Helen Booth

Each year, I hold a simple raffle in support of Brain Cancer Research, a cause that is incredibly close to my heart.

My husband was diagnosed with Glioblastoma in September 2023, an incurable and terminal brain cancer that is devastating to witness and endure.

Every £5 donation gives you one entry into the raffle to win an original painting. £10 gives you two entries, £20 gives you four, and so on. Every penny raised goes directly to Brain Cancer Research, a critically underfunded area of cancer research that urgently needs more awareness, funding, and support.

Over the last couple of years, I’ve raised around £5,000, and this year I would love to raise even more, to help buy precious research time in labs and support the search for better treatments against this indiscriminate disease.

For so many families, this fight is deeply personal.

If you’re able to take part, thank you. Sometimes the smallest acts of generosity can help carry something enormous.

💛

And From The Ash I Rise
4 Paintings.
260cm x 180cm x 4cm (Each)
Oil on Canvas
2023

Inspired by the frozen waterfalls in Iceland and I really need to go back to see these again soon.
#

This season I created the artwork for Ffern’s Winter scent.
I spent time visiting lighthouses along the Welsh coast, foraging on beaches and gathering small, found natural forms to respond to the brief.

The Ffern team offered such generous inspiration throughout, and I have been deeply touched by the many kind messages from Ffern lovers about the artwork.

It was also such a huge thrill to see working on the creative story to go with the scent. One of my favourite actors.

I created ten images for the postcard tucked inside each box, one of which was selected.

These are a few of the others.
Thanks to all at .co for allowing me to be part of this wonderful story.

Today a work I made years ago resurfaced unexpectedly on Pinterest.

I’d forgotten its exact shape.
The scale.
The way the white sat on the paper. These press-made works on Chinese rice paper were never meant to be permanent. Quick, light, almost provisional. All of the images were lost over time, to a corrupt hard drive and a vanished archive, and they lived on only as a feeling.

Seeing this again reminded me how memory works. Not as a clean record, but in fragments. A sensation. A rhythm. A pressure remembered by the body rather than the mind.

Some images return not because we went looking for them, but because they were never finished with us.
🤍

feeling inspired.

When the snow comes in Wales, which is not often, I can’t help but take the work outside.

Being out there changes how I work. The cold sets the pace. The body has to listen.
These initial layers were made standing in snow, working through the weather rather than against it. early days, but great to make a start.

Grateful to have always nearby, documenting it all with her analogue cameras.
It means a great deal to have so much creativity moving through one family.
❄️