About Dan Howard

“I paint things that feel good to make — and feel good to see.”
That’s it. That’s the whole thesis.
No tortured metaphors. No political manifestos. No tires wrapped in chains with a paragraph of what it means. Just brush, color, memory, and the deep personal satisfaction of turning a quiet scene into something worth seeing twice.

One of the many great artists in Viroqua, Wisconsin.

I’m Dan Howard — a painter, photographer, and lifelong wanderer of good light.
I live in the Driftless area of Wisconsin, surrounded by barns, backroads, and street corners that hold more character than most people give them credit for. I paint local scenes — small towns, old barns, winter hillsides — in a post-impressionist style that blends bold color with quiet familiarity. I paint because I love it. Period. And if you love how it looks, then we’ve already connected in the best possible way.

Dan Howard Plein Air Artist at Villa Louis, Prairie Du Chien

Why I Paint

I started painting because I needed something to keep my hands from shaking.

In 2016, after a long stretch of anxiety and depression—mostly triggered by a toxic work environment—I found myself lying awake night after night, heart pounding, brain in a headlock. My doctor gently asked, “What used to help you relax?”
“Art, I guess,” I responded.
“Then do that.”

Around that same time, Bob Ross landed on Netflix. I’d never seen him growing up in the UK, but there he was — whispering about happy little trees and cranking out serene little landscapes like it was nothing. I binge-watched six hours of him in one sitting, then walked into a craft store the next morning and dropped $100 on paint and brushes.

For a while, I painted forests and mountains in the Bob Ross style. But it started to feel like painting a greeting card. It wasn’t bad — it just wasn’t me. I wanted something more vivid, more alive. Something with punch, joy, and a bit of beautiful distortion. I started exploring the bold, vibrant work of early 20th century post-impressionists like Derain, Vlaminck, Dufy, and Van Gogh… and something in me clicked.

I kept going because I fell in love with the idea of building a body of work. Not to be famous. Not to get into galleries. But to leave a legacy.

I paint the barns, fields, and crooked streets of small-town Wisconsin with the same reverence and color that the masters once gave to Paris or Provence.

My style is bright, expressive, and real.
It’s not photographic, it’s not refined, and it’s not supposed to be.

It’s what the world looks like after a strong cup of tea and a hit of joy.

When people see my work, I want them to feel like they just saw something familiar — but with a new twist of color and wonder. Like a street they’ve walked a hundred times suddenly caught in a magic spell.

Meet the Human

I live in Viroqua, Wisconsin — a small, slow town in the Driftless region where the skies stretch wide and the barns lean like old men with good stories. It’s where I paint, raise my family, and chase good light.

My studio is tucked away in the basement, dim but dependable — a cozy space I’ve rearranged more times than I can count. There’s usually a mug of tea somewhere, music playing (anything from Thrice to Hendrix to Elvis), and a couple of my older paintings staring back at me like wise old ghosts. I keep them around to remind me what I’ve learned — and what I’m still figuring out.

I’ve lived in the U.S. for years now, but I’m originally from England, which mostly means I’m deeply suspicious of bad tea and instinctively polite in awkward situations.

When I’m not painting, I’m usually tinkering with cameras, wandering a thrift store looking for haunted objects, or watching vintage horror movies for fun. I believe in humor, in curiosity, and in showing up every day to make something meaningful.

Dan Howard artist and post-impressionist

Stay Connected

If something in my work caught your eye — or stirred up something quiet and familiar — I’d love for you to stick around.

You can also follow me on Instagram or Facebook for behind-the-scenes glimpses, new pieces, and the occasional photo of my dog.

And if you ever want to say hi, ask about a painting, or just chat — you can always drop me a message. I read every one.

Thanks for stopping by. I’m glad you’re here.