So 51 is just around the corner and while the 30 something artists and crafters out there are posting gorgeous photos of their new bundles of babies and hand knits, I can't even log on!!
Ok. Some context. I ran my own business for 10 years. I was a maker of things, mainly jewellery having completed a degree in Gold and Silversmithing. I was legit. I had a little shop in Kensington and a loyal following as well as selling to boutiques in Australia and New Zealand. Kylie Minogue had worn my jewellery. Once. I was proud of my "brand" but making hand made things in a fashion accessory market was tough. And then the babies came, and I wasn't making any money, and I was frustrated by my inability to balance my creative life with Motherhood so… well, I began to knit and be a mother. Happily.
Then a few years ago my dear friend Denise gave me a book, The Divided Heart, Art and Motherhood, by Rachel Power. I put it aside for a while, tucked away with reminders of a my past life as an artist. At the time I was working as a doula. My passion for birth and motherhood had lead me down that path but this book, oh dear, everything just fell away and there I was, that girl who loved to draw, who was happiest when she was making something. It was time. So I did a painting and it made me happy and I liked it and couldn't understand where this big painting of the Australian bush had come from. I had written in my high school year book that I wanted to be a painter and live in Warrandyte. I have always loved the Australian bush, muted and familiar. From somewhere in the depths of my creative self, it had waited patiently, timing it's return for a moment in my life when my girls are of an age that they are moving into new places and maybe I was becoming a little sad about this. And so I will paint, and I will care for this part of me and welcome it's return whole heardedly, I will call myself an artist with confidence and conviction. Again. I'll blog a little bit about it and other things. And I will put things on Instagram and see where it takes me.
But I'm still about to turn 51, and I feel like I'm starting this new phase a bit late and recently while shopping with my 15 year old in some shop called Glug, or Glum or something, as I flicked through hangers of inappropriate tops (for anyone),while maybe humming a show tune, a friendly young lass approached me as my daughter went to try things on and motioned to a large leather wingback in the corner. " Would Mother Like a Chair? I think I went a little pale, or maybe a little flushed. Probably flushed. I wanted to remind her that I am a customer, not just a credit card and that maybe just maybe I was about to try something on? But the truth was, I was hot and tired and the sugar high from my Muffin Break had worn off and to be perfectly honest, Mother would bloody love a chair. Thank you.