Life & Work with Jennifer Howell of Los Angeles, CA (Koreatown)

Today we’d like to introduce you to Jennifer Howell.

Hi Jennifer, please kick things off for us with an introduction to yourself and your story.
I grew up in Hattiesburg, Mississippi, and later moved to Boston to study film, writing, and philosophy at Emerson College. After graduating, I headed to Los Angeles to pursue my dream of writing and directing. Not long after settling in, I received a call from my childhood best friend, Tara Williamson. Her boyfriend, Stephen Lane Hatten—who, like us, had grown up in Hattiesburg—had relapsed and was once again battling leukemia.
Stephen was first diagnosed during our senior year of high school. Our entire town rallied together to hold a bone marrow drive, and miraculously, a match was found. He underwent a transplant and went into remission, and we all believed the hardest part was behind him. When he relapsed, I returned home to be with Tara and Stephen. That New Year’s Eve, we drove to Memphis together, and during the trip, Stephen told us about a young boy he’d met at Vanderbilt Hospital who was also undergoing leukemia treatment.
Stephen said, “If you want to do something for someone, do it for the kids—especially the ones going through treatments alone.” Those words stayed with me. Coupled with watching Tara’s unwavering love and selflessness as she devoted herself to caring for Stephen, that moment became the seed of inspiration that would one day grow into The Art of Elysium.

I’m sure it wasn’t obstacle-free, but would you say the journey has been fairly smooth so far?
There are days when I feel like I’ve wiped out while water skiing — still clutching the rope, being dragged through the waves long after I should’ve let go. This journey has been anything but easy, yet it’s been more meaningful and fulfilling than I ever could have imagined.
One of the greatest challenges in mission-based work isn’t the mission itself — it’s the egos that can arise around it. Not long ago, a woman reached out asking if a group of children we serve could participate in a project she was filming. We’re always careful about such requests, but after explaining everything clearly to the families, several parents were excited. They saw it as a chance for their kids to do something joyful, something different — a bright spot in their days.
Many of these families took buses across the city to be there. They arrived on time, full of anticipation. The woman, however, arrived more than an hour and a half late. She offered no apology, no acknowledgment of the children’s needs — children who require medications on strict schedules. Instead, she pulled one of our staff aside and said, “The children don’t look sick enough.”
She went ahead with the shoot, promising the kids new clothes and gifts that never came. The project never aired. And heartbreakingly, some of those children are no longer with us. Their families had hoped for even a single clip from that day — just one lasting memory — but we were never given the footage.
I wasn’t there when it happened, but when my team told me, I called her to address the situation. Rather than take responsibility or express empathy, she became defensive and turned the conversation into criticism of our organization.
Moments like these are among the hardest parts of this work. Setting boundaries or holding others accountable is often met with offense, and too often, people respond by spreading half-truths that damage the very mission they once claimed to support. When that happens, it doesn’t just hurt our organization — it limits what we can do for the people and families who depend on us most.
Still, despite the heartbreak, I hold onto why we started. Because every act of kindness, every moment of joy we bring — those are the things worth holding on to.

Alright, so let’s switch gears a bit and talk business. What should we know about your work?
The Art of Elysium is more than a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization — it is a living philosophy built on one profound truth: art heals.
For nearly three decades, we’ve brought the transformative power of creativity into children’s hospitals, elder care homes, shelters, veterans’ centers, and every corner of our community where hope is needed most.
But beyond programs and tax status, The Art of Elysium is a belief — that in a time when so many of our systems are breaking down — politics, institutions, even faith — it is the artists who can help rebuild the world. I have always felt that if we gave the artists the chance to lead, to imagine, and to create, we might finally find a world where everyone belongs.
I often say there are so many gatekeepers in this life. Their first word is no, followed by all the reasons something can’t be done. But when you bring the same idea to an artist, their eyes light up — they start building, dreaming, and showing you how it can be done. That spirit is the heartbeat of what we do.
Each year, we create an immersive artistic experience called HEAVEN — a living installation designed by a chosen Visionary who reimagines what Heaven might look and feel like. For one night, guests are invited to walk inside that vision — to experience the transcendent beauty of what we take into the communities we serve every day.
But HEAVEN is not just a night. It’s a movement.
It’s an invitation to believe that Heaven can be built here and now — together.
Our greatest hope is that when people leave, they turn to one another and ask,
“What does your Heaven look like?”
Because if we were truly asking each other that question — if we helped one another build our own visions of Heaven — we would soon discover that your Heaven does not cancel out mine.
It completes it.
And together, we could begin creating a different world altogether.

If you had to, what characteristic of yours would you give the most credit to?
Faith. Hope. Tenacity.
These are the pillars that have carried me — and The Art of Elysium — through every season of creation and challenge.
I believe, with every fiber of my being, in the presence of the Creator — in the divine intelligence that infuses all things with meaning. Artists, I have always felt, are the translators of that divine language. They reach into the invisible field of creation itself and return with music, poetry, film, and art — gifts that remind us what it means to be alive.
Art has the power to inspire, to unite, and to breathe life back into those who have lost hope. It is worth fighting for — as essential as the very air we breathe. Because in the darkest moments of a human life, when all else seems lost, the simple act of creating can reconnect someone to something infinitely larger than themselves. In that act, they remember that light still exists — and that things can, and will, get better.
My deepest hope is that we continue building an artistic community grounded not in ego, but in grace — a community that creates together as one body, one breath, one reflection of humanity’s divine design.
And when the world feels unyielding, when the noise of ego — what I call E.G.O., edging God out — tries to drown out the mission, that is when faith, hope, and tenacity must rise the highest. Because that is when we are tested. That is when we find our strength.
And that is when art — pure, humble, fearless art — becomes our prayer.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.theartofelysium.org
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/theartofelysium/
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TheArtOfElysium
• LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/company/the-art-of-elysium
• Twitter: https://x.com/theartofelysium
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/user/THEARTOFELYSIUM
• Yelp: https://www.guidestar.org/profile/95-4673306
• Soundcloud: https://www.charitynavigator.org/ein/954673306
• Other: https://greatnonprofits.org/org/the-art-of-elysium

Image Credits
ToastyCakes
Henry Diltz
Morgan Marling
Gwen Riley