P  R  O  J  E  C  T     N O. 3 

paintings & procrastinations


My son's sneakers.

Is motherhood an art form?

In the book Outliers, Malcom Gladwell discusses "The 10,000 Hour Rule" — saying it takes that many hours of practice to master a skill. I have been a mother for 141,120 hours and I am still learning.

The image of "mother" often conjures up cliches of minivans and soccer games, so the importance of motherhood is easily diminished. As a mother, a human being has come out of your body. Amazing. You are handed a soul wrapped in skin, organs and nerves that you must guide into life, yet he is the teacher and you are the apprentice.

I've been pondering the thought, "Is motherhood an art form?"
I say that I am a mother and an artist, but perhaps they are one in the same. I define "artist" as one living life with awareness.  It is a state of being which cannot be defined by the number of canvases one completes. I know many a painter who doesn't live life with awareness. They create hundreds of paintings, but they are not artists.

Are all mothers artists? No, but motherhood has the potential to be elevated to an art form if it is done with awareness — taking the time to be still, listen, look at your child. To study their subtleties of dark and light. 

The child is the canvas. The mother, the painter. The child brings forth his own unique palette and mother must take care not to mix his colors into her own hues. The artist must know restraint. 

After many years of work, the masterpiece is sold — handed over to another so the world may experience the complexities of this creation. You let go, hoping you have done your best work, praying that another will study his soul — where darks make lights beautifully intense — and be forever changed. That is the purpose of art. That is the purpose of motherhood.