On Being an Artist and a Mother

As soon as I started writing a blog, I knew this was a topic I wanted to discuss. And I am sure I will, from multiple angles, many times. If you have read any of my artist statements, you know that I have already written quite a bit on what it has meant for me as an artist to also be a mother. In short, it has changed everything for me.

I remember so vividly being fresh out of college and about as determined and driven as a person can be. As an introvert who prefers being alone in my studio, or walking in nature with one friend at a time, I begrudgingly went to a “women’s art group” night at someone’s house. I knew a couple of the women, but not the host. When I arrived I heard the host say that she had hired a babysitter that day and had gotten to have some time for art. I had an unbelievably strong reaction of THAT WILL NEVER BE ME!

I did not intend to have children, actually. I was just going to paint. And that is, in fact, pretty much all I did for about 15 years. And then that biological clock started ticking, quite loudly, drowning out my inner dialogue about needing to do nothing but paint all day long, every day, about needing to be successful.

The surprising thing about it for me, though, was that it actually wasn’t ever me, hiring a sitter so that I could paint. I have chalked it up to my being an “older mom,” perhaps having perspective about the swift passage of time that younger moms may not have. And part of it may be that I did have a fair amount of success as a younger artist, and while it was wonderful, I still had a bit of an empty space inside of me that I was starting to realize art alone would not fill.

To this day I am brought to tears when I remember a conversation I had with a fellow artist at one of his gallery openings, when my son was two. I hadn’t painted since before becoming pregnant (I has switched to graphite to avoid toxins). The artist said to me, “My son is grown now, and I would take every single painting in this room and put them all in the dumpster out back if I could have one day with him as a toddler again.”

I didn’t hire a sitter. For the first year of my son’s life, I actually didn’t make any art at all. I gave him my undivided attention, because nothing else seemed to matter all that much. It was the most amazing experience, to explore the world with a baby, and then a toddler, to see everything new and fresh through his (and then her, after my daughter was born) eyes. Of course, as an artist, that is what I do: I move through the world SEEING as much as I can, noticing, appreciating, wondering. And to be able to share that experience with two new little beings for whom it was all wondrous has been the most powerful, inspirational, magical part of my life.

People have commented about my work elevating otherwise mundane objects to their true glory. Rendering possibly overlooked natural objects with such care and precision that one sees them in a new way. This is what motherhood was when my kids were little. Everything deserved attention from them, and for them.

I have written and spoken a lot about how my work is about connection; how, in fact, I believe life is ultimately about connections, about love. The connection between a mother and child is the most powerful thing I know, and once I experienced that, it changed everything. The focus of my work became more honed on that idea of intimacy and belonging. And it became even more quiet and serene, since motherhood itself does not lend much space for that.

I have learned how to paint in smaller chunks of time, and the paintings themselves are quite a bit smaller as well. Some days, like today, I am too sick/tired/distracted to work. As I write this I am sick with the flu, after caring for my sick child for the past few days. So I will write a blog post and hope that it is coherent, and I will bring people ice chips to suck on, and medication to bring down fevers, and know that my paintings are waiting for me in the studio, and I will return to them when I can. 

This is the only work of art I have created that was from a reference photo taken by someone other than myself. My son, Elijah, took this photograph, and the drawing is a gift to him.