In How It Feels, Tracey Emin distils emotion to its most pared-back form. Rendered in cool white neon and written in her unmistakable cursive script, the phrase appears both incomplete and direct—an open-ended statement that invites projection. As with much of Emin’s work, what is unsaid carries as much weight as what is declared.

Emin’s neon pieces function as illuminated fragments of thought, borrowing the visual language of urban signage while stripping it of commercial intent. Instead of advertising a product, she reveals an interior state. Her handwriting—translated into bent glass tubing—retains its immediacy and vulnerability. The subtle irregularities of the line evoke the physical act of writing, reinforcing the sense that the work originates in lived experience.

The phrase “How It Feels” resists specificity. It does not name the feeling, nor does it offer context. In doing so, the work becomes a mirror. The viewer is compelled to fill in the emotional gap—grief, desire, heartbreak, longing, confusion. Emin’s broader practice frequently navigates these emotional terrains, yet here she removes narrative detail entirely. The result is a distilled meditation on sensation itself, on the difficulty of articulating experience in language.

Modest in scale compared to some of her monumental neons, the piece maintains intimacy. Its horizontal format allows the words to unfold gently across the wall, while the white glow casts a soft halo that subtly alters the surrounding space. The illumination feels contemplative rather than confrontational, encouraging close viewing and quiet reflection.

Issued in an edition of ten with two artist’s proofs, the work balances accessibility with rarity. Its smaller format and more open-ended phrasing make it a particularly resonant example of Emin’s ability to translate personal expression into universal experience.

In How It Feels, Emin demonstrates the power of restraint. By offering only a fragment, she creates space for emotional participation. The work glows not with certainty, but with inquiry—an illuminated reminder that feeling itself is often beyond precise articulation, yet deeply understood.