Notes from an Artist/Mother, part 2
When my son was first born I was shocked by the level of fatigue that set in. Just thinking about that time makes me want to take a nap. At the time I was a full time calligrapher, and I was able to fit my work in here and there. I accepted fewer jobs and they took longer to do. But an active baby plus delicate inks and wedding invitations do not mix. Often while I am working, one idea leads to another and I might make a note or sketch a thumbnail. Now those ideas had to be written down and put on the figurative shelf. I literally made myself a sketch book with the words “Ideas that will have to wait,” painted on the cover. With a small (but rapidly growing baby) I had no time or energy to do all the things I wanted to. I quickly realized that my life as an artist had indelibly changed.
I HAD to, and I HAVE to create. I am not me if I am not creating. I MUST MAKE STUFF! Recently an online friend described the need to create, not a calling, but “a haunting.” Creative work, art life is not something that calls you gently, it walks with you, it joins your dreams, it haunts you. I am sure there are some artist parents that make it work, they are able to compartmentalize or block off time successfully. I envy their organization. Something had to be done to save my sanity, and to remember the core of who I am. Here is what I came to at the time:
I had to care for my son and make sure he was safe, healthy, and happy.
I had to make stuff.
I still had to take care of the house, my dog, my husband, my family, my friendships, and sometimes, myself. He wouldn't be a baby forever and I wanted to maintain relationships.
Time was going to pass. Creative work is what helps me mark time.
Time was going to pass. I could spend it being frustrated (and possibly resentful) or I could find a way through.
This is temporary. Everything is temporary. Children will grow and change. I will grow and change.
Seize the opportunity to work. If there are dishes in the sink, but you have 2 hours child-free, then the dishes will wait.
An hour is not “enough,” but for now it will tide me over.
A chalk homage to Ugo Rondinone’s Seven Magical Mountains
I hope it goes without saying, I love watching my son grow and explore. I am beyond grateful for the time and connection I have with him. Every golden moment was not wasted. And, two things can be true at the same time. I was a whole person before he was born. I had a career and creative work that “filled my tank,” so to speak. Now that person seemed to have been shelved.
When he was first born everyone said, “give it 6 months, it gets easier.” Then it was, “give it 2 years.” Then it was five. I would say it never gets easy, it just keeps changing. We should probably stop telling new mothers anything different. Having a child is complicated, even in the best circumstances. So many don’t have ideal spaces, ideal time, ideal money, etc. It is a complicated soup of gratitude, frustration, and love, and soul work.
So, how to get through. Could I work a little? Could I have an outlet?
I put my calligraphy aside, shuttered my business and closed my accounts. I talked to friends. I looked at Instagram and felt jealous and isolated. I tried weaving. I tried sewing and crafting. I made Halloween costumes. I was crafty, but stuck. In talking to a friend (hi Emily!) I found out that she had started doing embroidery. She ordered patterns from Sarah K. Benning on etsy and just started. Could I do that too? I had done cross stitch as a kid, and a little bit of needle point. Very quickly I fell in love. Embroidery gave me the same sense of calm that calligraphy had done. Something slow, repetitive, but also open to expressiveness. It wasn't paint, or wet media that would keep me chained to a desk. It was PORTABLE! It could come with me!
These notes are to be continued….
**I am going to use the work “mother” in this text to talk about parenthood. I am a cisgender female and this has been my experience of parenting. However, I realize this profound change happens to people of all genders. I believe that there is room for all of us. I will use the words “mother” and “motherhood,” to express my experience, but it is not meant to be a closed off gendered term.
