A Tale of Two Aprons

Note: I wrote this post five months out of chemotherapy and two years before the pandemic. Things are more or less the same, except I’m nearly 5 years cancer-free and we renovated our kitchen. My daughter is finishing up Middle School and we homeschool full-time. I just finished the Claire McCardell Project. The pandemic and political unrest have created a sense of impending doom, but after going through treatment for cancer, I find that I’m more often more afraid of what’s happening within than without. Do these thoughts resonate with you more now, year 3 of the pandemic? Or has this feeling of vocational overwhelm been an issue for some time?


From the archives: April 12, 2018

When I go to the studio, I hang up my coat and put on my studio apron. When I return home, I hang up my coat and put on my kitchen apron. My aprons keep my clothes cleaner, certainly, but they are important for managing that mental shift I make everyday from working artist to working mother. And yet, no matter what I’m doing, I’m always an artist and always a mother and always a little bit overwhelmed.

Here I am in the kitchen washing dishes with my Wonder Woman apron!

It’s a juggle

You’ve heard the saying, “wearing many hats.” That’s a bit how I feel as I juggle my life as an artist and mother, except instead of hats it’s aprons. In fact, I love aprons and have a small collection of them. When I’m feeling fancy, I wear the one that has a polka dotted skirt, lace, and French poetry scrawled across the top. When I’m feeling silly, I wear the one from the HofbrÀuhaus that makes me look a bit like a slim Bavarian girl with some ample cleavage. Some days, I wear the Wonder Woman apron, even if I’m not feeling very wonderful.

Nearly every mother I know is exhausted beyond belief and constantly overwhelmed. She runs from thing to thing, staying up way too late for some precious alone time, drinks too much coffee, and complains about never getting around to this thing or that. I try my best to live intentionally, to be guided by my most deeply held values. I make a feeble attempt at minimalism. I plan my meals. I live in a small house. I can walk to the studio. Granted, I’m only five months out of chemotherapy, but I’m still completely exhausted most of the time.

Life of the artist

When most people imagine the life of an artist, they imagine some sort of bohemian scene with unconventional life choices, surrounded by intellectually stimulating events and glamorous art parties. In reality, most artists are just regular people. I take my child to soccer games and dance lessons. I make dinner every night and get on her case about eating a healthy breakfast before rushing her out the door to catch the school bus. I tell her to practice her music. I take my dog to dog-sports and walks in the park.

Granted, I do make it a priority to expose my child to cultural events: art museums, opera, jazz, and the symphony. Having a mom with an art studio is normal to her. I share with her pictures of the Renaissance masters in the many art books that clutter up our living room. I do her portrait on snow days. But, I’m a regular mom, who is up at night worrying about how she’s doing in math class.

I work in the studio in those in-between times

I work in the studio in those in-between times, a few hours during the school day, in between taking care of my house, going to appointments, and attempting to exercise. Some days I feel like I can pick two: exercise, socializing, cooking, spending time with my husband, cleaning the house, caring for my child, and making art. Two. And if I do too many of them at the same time, I tend to do all them poorly. Apparently, I can only focus on two things at a time.

After becoming a mother and after cancer, my time in the studio is hyper-focused. Because my time is limited, I have to make each minute count. So, I arrive and put my my “Life is messy, wear protection” apron. Then I get down to business and work with all I’ve got with the time I have each day. You are probably wondering when I’m going to get to the part where I reveal my secrets of how I juggle the life of a working-artist-mother. I’m struggling, just like you. I do try to go to bed on time and plan my meals ahead. My real secret is that my husband is an equal partner in this. He values my work, regardless of how things are selling or not selling. He regards our house as our house and our family is our family. We are a team on this journey through life.

How do you juggle the demands in your life?

Sarah

A figurative sculptor for over 20 years, Sarah tells monumental stories in clay, bronze, and stone.

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