BRIDGING: the Artist and the Parent

By: Valerie HD Killebrew

Preconceived Notions

I have always considered myself an artist- the role has always been an integral piece of my identity since childhood. As I grew, I gravitated more towards the role of teaching artist or arts leader as a career focus while still maintaining my own personal artistry in my free time. That often manifested as a performance singer, dancer, painter or writer. The arts helped me attune to my feelings, the arts made me feel freedom, the arts helped me connect to my joy and my purpose. We felt synonymous, the arts and me. 


In June of 2019 I found out I was pregnant. Thrilled, as I always wanted to be a parent. It was a beautiful nine months of wonder, excitement and planning. Wondering all the ways I could explore the arts and creativity with my little one. Excited to learn from my child and expose them to various creative experiences, planning how I might incorporate the arts into our daily practice as mother and child. So many thoughts, so many preconceived notions of how the arts would continue to be a river, creating buoyancy and movement into this new chapter of my life. Never a fear or doubt of how to keep the arts present in my upcoming new life — they had always been, as an artist is who I am. 


Awakening

“The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new.”—Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh
My child was born and with her; I awoke to motherhood. My birth story is long, beautiful, painful and powerful. It seemed to take a lifetime but also no time at all. Looking back at that experience it illustrated how creative and artistic the body and the process of birth actually is. You have a cellular knowledge of what to do and all systems work in harmony- an intricate chorus, crescendoing into a masterpiece. All senses are attuned and aligned- awake and alert. I still remember feeling the weight of my child on my chest and the first song I sang to sooth them as we left the delivery room. 

The days and weeks that followed were not easy- in fact they were some of the hardest and most painful days of my life. Making the shift into parenthood is momentous for everyone, and my child was also born two weeks before the COVID-19 pandemic completely changed everyone’s world. I had awoken into a world of fear, uncertainty and anxiety. All my practices of creativity and self care seemed to be abandoned and forgotten, as the daily objective became survival. 

A friend of mine who was already a mother recommended I write to help process my feelings and experiences. I remember the first time I wrote was two months after my child was born. The idea of a poem came to me when I was enjoying the rare luxury of a shower, standing at the edge of my bathtub, waiting for the water to warm before I moved into it. Later that day, for the first time, I wrote a poem while my child napped on me:

At The Water’s Edge
By Val HD Killebrew
April, 2020

I stand at the water's edge
The moment before you summon the courage 
Bend at the knee 
And launch yourself into the air
To land, submerged into newness 

I was never one that ran to the edge,
Leaping into the depths
Without the moment of pause 
The contemplation of that next environment and its hospitality 

Unsure if the water will pierce you,
With cold that takes the breath away
Or if the cool that envelops you will offer peace and refresh,
A desired treat from a sweltering day 

And then there’s the leap itself, 
The act of leaving the space you’ve known
The ground that holds you, solid beneath your feet
Even burning concrete offers a sense of familiarity 
because your pause begins to numb you to its discomfort, even pain

It’s never the same if you stand at the edge
And dip a toe in to test the water before you
Whatever information you get from a peek inside the keyhole will never truly allow you to see what’s behind the door 

So you jump,
The feeling of your feet leaving solid ground,
An assent into the air that you think may hold you for only an instant
Then the rush into the water that fully engulfs you

It closes in all around you, suspending your action
As you have entered into this new world 
That is larger than your body or mind
For a moment, you are returned to your infancy-
Suspended in the womb, completely held by the waters

You can’t stay there, be it filled with pain or bliss
You must surface and survey the new world you’re now a part of
You can’t go back, 
To that time before the leap
But can still look back at the water’s edge,
The place from where you came
Knowing even if you were to make it back,
You have been changed by the water
And the leap itself

So I take my leap
Instantly unsure the moment my feet leave the ground
The air is unstable and I am not sure I spent enough time planning before the jump 
But it’s too late now
Take a big breath and hold it
To await your landing

The water folds in around my body 
As if I belong to it
It holds me tightly, but with a small sense of familiarity 
Perhaps memory of being in water before 
I’m acutely aware of every new sensation the water brings
Not placing judgment, just observance

I’ve surfaced now in this new world
I look back to the water's edge 
The place from which I came
Unsure now of who that person was
Who made the leap
All I know is myself now,
Newly emerged in this water world
I turn away from the water’s edge
And begin to swim.

If I am being honest, I was surprised that my artist voice was still intact and able to create, as I felt this awakening into motherhood didn’t afford me the mental space or capacity to create or even engage in anything beyond daily actions of survival. Yet, there she was, my artist self, still speaking. So, then a question emerged for me- how do I authentically bridge my artist identity with my motherhood identity?

The Question of Bridges, Boats or Basecamp

Over the past two years of motherhood I have reflected on this question. I started to wonder if what I was seeking was in fact a bridge between being an artist and being a parent. One of our 2022 Residents, Audrey Maxner, recently published her blog How Do We Begin With Collective Care? In which she shares the term “bridging” implies an equal meeting of two sides to reach compromise. I thought about this definition, wondering if I was in fact trying to create pathways for my artist self to meet my parent self across a bridge to reach a compromise of some sort. Maybe. When I think about the times I’ve dedicated to art making over the last two years it has primarily been in partnership with or in service to my child (which has been truly wonderful, but, of course, different than my previous acts of personal artistry)- I sing her to sleep or teach her songs we sing can together; we paint, draw and make up plays with stuffed animals and cardboard boxes; we dance and march around the house in ways that feel fun. While I have and still do find joy in these ways of artmaking- am I compromising either my role of artist or mother? Am I still making art that makes me feel free, helps me connect to my joy and my purpose? Does my personal artmaking take any attention away from my parenting?


Am I instead sailing in a boat between being an artist and being a parent? In the small windows of time I find for artmaking, do I pack up my tools and sail to the metaphorical “artist island” where I dedicate the 30 some minutes I have to painting or writing and then sail back when I hear my child crying for me on the baby monitor? Maybe. This does create a feeling of specialness to personal artmaking- the process of gathering my tools and sailing on my own boat, alone, to my private artist island where I can create the work of my heart and soul- but those boat rides are few and far between, often getting bumped from the priority to-do list. Does that still count?


My last question is am I actually at an “art making basecamp” right now, also as a parent? The safe haven at the base of “parenting mountains” that I depart from and return to- providing me nurturing and guidance to take with me on various expeditions I make with my child. Maybe. Art making always feels like a welcoming space for me, even if the inspiration isn’t readily available in my tired brain and body- I can still sit with my brushes, listen to music that inspires or read others’ words illustrating their passions. I can even be at the art making basecamp with my child, allowing her curiosity and excitement for learning the world inspire me. When being an artist has been part of your identity your whole life, is it ever a “place” or role that you leave forever?

Leaning In and Shaping Chaos

I know this reflective blog has posed a lot of questions. My program director at the Harvard Graduate School of Education, Steve Seidel, inspired me to lean in, not away from questions. He encouraged us to pursue the questions that interest us, not the answers we hope or assume to find. For those of you craving an answer to any of the questions I have posed here- I’m sorry to say I do not have any- yet. I am continuing to lean into these questions about my identity as a mother and my identity as an artist with wonder and curiosity.

In doing some research on the reflections of other artists who became parents, particularly those identifying as mothers, there seems to be much thought, challenge and wondering on the matter (making me feel less alone in my inquiry!). Kim Books questioned if parenthood was the enemy of creative work. A friend she was in dialogue with explained, “We are not in control. That’s one of the major things parenting is teaching me, the balance between letting go in writing and practicing craft, the balance between being ferocious with my imagination and rigorous in my practice. Shape and chaos. Learning to shape chaos.” I do know that learning how to be a parent is a daily practice of letting go. The same could also be said about opening yourself up to the creative process. This image of “shaping chaos” feels apt when I think about my adventures in parenting as well as art making. 

My closing reflection prompts for the parents who are artists/ artists who are parents: Whether you feel you are on a bridge, in a boat or at a basecamp with both of these identities, what is/are the questions that drive your curiosity and motivation? How and when do you lean into those questions?What strategies help you “shape your own chaos”?


My closing reflection prompts for the friends, managers, co-workers, allies, family members of those artist - parents:How do you practice radical grace and create safe spaces of exploration, care and growth for the artist - parents you know and support?What personal self reflection inquiries can you lean into as you reflect on your relationship with them?


Thank you for joining in my curiosity!