There’s a mama bird who laid a nest right outside my kitchen window. When I’m at the sink I can see her nest all tucked in to my holly bush. She is oblivious to me. Here I am bustling around right next to her with a house full of people to take care of. She has been intent on weaving the perfect nest to protect her little ones and hasn’t realized that there is nesting going two feet away from her.
As the mama bird brings back a long flimsy fiber and starts weaving it into her nest, I think about myself 10 years ago, full of my first child. I had gone to school for art and had wanted to be an artist for as long as I could remember. When my baby was born I put away my paints and brushes. All of my charcoal and colored pencils, my pens and oil pastels, my paper and canvases disappeared. I don’t remember where they went, but I remember feeling like now that I was a mother, nothing else mattered. All the other pieces of me got tucked away into corners because I thought that’s where they belonged.
As the mama bird stomps leaves down to make her nest just so, I think about myself today. I just had twins four months ago and this time I had a studio to abandon in the event of children joining my life. But this time it’s different. My brushes are handy. My canvas and paper are at my fingertips. My paints, charcoal and pastels are tucked into a drawer to hide them from little fingers. They come out for 10 minutes at a time or hours at a time. I don’t have a set schedule for creating; I just know that it is part of my daily life.
Motherhood came as a shock to my system. It hit me upside the head with complete joy but also with a sense of misunderstanding. I had always known I wanted to be a mother, so when it didn’t come naturally, every bump in the road would throw me off balance. It has taken me years to come to the knowledge that if I don’t take care of myself and balance my own physical, emotional and spiritual needs, then my children suffer as well as me. I am a mother; I am a woman of faith; I am wife; I am a creative being. Aren’t we all creative beings in our own ways?
Creative life for me includes the act of making “art,” but is not limited to it. There is art found in preparing meals, gardening, taking photos, improving my home, and arranging the flowers on the table. There is art in the way my husband can make me smile when I’m feeling down. There is art in the way my baby’s eye lashes lay across her cheeks while she sleeps. There is art in finding beauty all around me.
Listening to my children laugh brings me back to my own childhood. Teaching my children to get along with one another helps me recognize my own weaknesses and become better along with them. Helping my children learn about things they love inspires me to learn and love. Being a mother is a creative process; now I know that there is nothing more creative than being a mother. How can you create an object more beautiful than a being that becomes its own creation in the years to come with or without you? Something that can go on to create thoughts and words and masterpieces all on its own? They are my muse. They make creating things worth while.
As the mama bird sits on her bright blue eggs I wonder if she knows what she’s in for. I wonder if she understands yet, the rollercoaster ride of emotions that will be hers. The joy that appears in the quiet moments and the stress that overwhelms when demands are high. I wonder if she realizes the beauty that comes with creating children and the art that life becomes as she mothers them.
As the mama bird brings back a long flimsy fiber and starts weaving it into her nest, I think about myself 10 years ago, full of my first child. I had gone to school for art and had wanted to be an artist for as long as I could remember. When my baby was born I put away my paints and brushes. All of my charcoal and colored pencils, my pens and oil pastels, my paper and canvases disappeared. I don’t remember where they went, but I remember feeling like now that I was a mother, nothing else mattered. All the other pieces of me got tucked away into corners because I thought that’s where they belonged.As the mama bird stomps leaves down to make her nest just so, I think about myself today. I just had twins four months ago and this time I had a studio to abandon in the event of children joining my life. But this time it’s different. My brushes are handy. My canvas and paper are at my fingertips. My paints, charcoal and pastels are tucked into a drawer to hide them from little fingers. They come out for 10 minutes at a time or hours at a time. I don’t have a set schedule for creating; I just know that it is part of my daily life.
Motherhood came as a shock to my system. It hit me upside the head with complete joy but also with a sense of misunderstanding. I had always known I wanted to be a mother, so when it didn’t come naturally, every bump in the road would throw me off balance. It has taken me years to come to the knowledge that if I don’t take care of myself and balance my own physical, emotional and spiritual needs, then my children suffer as well as me. I am a mother; I am a woman of faith; I am wife; I am a creative being. Aren’t we all creative beings in our own ways?
Creative life for me includes the act of making “art,” but is not limited to it. There is art found in preparing meals, gardening, taking photos, improving my home, and arranging the flowers on the table. There is art in the way my husband can make me smile when I’m feeling down. There is art in the way my baby’s eye lashes lay across her cheeks while she sleeps. There is art in finding beauty all around me.Listening to my children laugh brings me back to my own childhood. Teaching my children to get along with one another helps me recognize my own weaknesses and become better along with them. Helping my children learn about things they love inspires me to learn and love. Being a mother is a creative process; now I know that there is nothing more creative than being a mother. How can you create an object more beautiful than a being that becomes its own creation in the years to come with or without you? Something that can go on to create thoughts and words and masterpieces all on its own? They are my muse. They make creating things worth while.
As the mama bird sits on her bright blue eggs I wonder if she knows what she’s in for. I wonder if she understands yet, the rollercoaster ride of emotions that will be hers. The joy that appears in the quiet moments and the stress that overwhelms when demands are high. I wonder if she realizes the beauty that comes with creating children and the art that life becomes as she mothers them.share in brittany's inspiring life and art...
Posts
4 comments:
britt... beautiful, as always.
yes
yes
and more yes(es)
thank you love.
Becoming a mother was the biggest hurdle to my art. I always wanted to be a mother also but I didn't realize how difficult it would be.
Physically, it came easy to me... something that always surprised me, actually, but hormonally and psychologically I took a big hit, suffering from ante natal and post partum depression as long as I was pregnant or nursing.
It wasn't until I came out of the other side of that upheaval that I was able to work on the art again.
It's a whole new calibration to do, taking stock of the new priorities and time commitments, and discovering, like you said, the inspiration and creativity to be found in daily life as a mother.
I love that shot of those perfect turquoise eggs! Gorgeous.
I know that tightrope of attempting to balance the work with the kids' needs-sometimes two babes feels like ten. You are so right, beauty and art are all wrapped up in motherhood. from pastels to eyelashes, I hear you, mama.
:) pix
Post a Comment