An Ode To Mothers Who Live Their Art

Mother and daughterImages by Williams-Prior Art+Design

If I close my eyes I can still hear the sound of the treadles of my mother's floor loom. In my memory they were like a heartbeat; thumping, comforting. I would lie on the living room rug and watch her as she listened to "A Prairie Home Companion" on the radio and her fingers danced among the warps. Still today it's hard for me to comprehend the beauty that can arise from dyed wool and deft hands. It is as if an artists' soul is being etched onto warp and there is magic at play. That's what artists do. That's what art does. It fills everyone within reach with a sense of wonder; a hint of mysticism. 

When your mother is an artist, those ethereal moments of creativity are bound to rub off on you, an airborne blessing. It doesn't always manifest in a way that makes sense, I never much thought about weaving myself until I was an adult, but having that energy around you changes who you are. 

You know what I mean even if you don't. You can hear the click of your grandmother's knitting needles; the buzz of your father's sewing machine; the sound of your aunt's paintbrush as it hits the canvas.

But a mother who lives their art, that's something special. It is as if that imaginary umbilical cord that links mothers and children for eternity carries the creative spirit. It urges you, the child, to create. If a feeling can be woven on a loom, what else is possible? 

Once we went on a family vacation to Utah. I remember going to Bryce Canyon and my mom taking pictures of everything, back when that meant putting film in a camera to do so. When we got home she got them developed and then she wove our vacation. Just like that. As a child watching that happen you get a sense that your memories are forever and that your experiences are meant to be expressed in more than wonted ways. 

Mothers who live their art pass, and everything it encompasses, to their children. 

To all the mothers out there who have blessed and are blessing their children by being artists, by holding creativity dearly, thank you. To all the fathers and family friends and aunts and uncles and grandmothers, too, but today especially, to the mothers. Keep creating. Pass it on. 

Elena

1 comment

Lucy

My mother was an artist too, and I feel so lucky to have grown up watching her paint and draw. I took lots of art courses in college, but nothing compared to what I learned standing over her shoulder and watching her draw. It was just a way of life. If you’d like to read about her I wrote a Mother’s Day post about her a few years ago. https://thecreativitypatch.com/blogs/blog/the-bestest-mother

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