I was a clay artist years before I was a wife or mother. Early on, I recognized how integral clay was to my well being and happiness. I articulated that importance to my husband before we married. I let him know that if he was looking for a wife with a high earning job, he might need to keep looking. I suppose he was up to the challenge and this past summer we celebrated our eighteenth wedding anniversary. While all these things are true, it has been far from easy and I have gotten lost along the way more than once.My husband's schooling was long and involved. He had to work very hard, often needing for us to give him time alone for preparation and study. Because I supported his dream, I would take our small child away in an attempt to give him what he needed-often a simple thing like quiet. I, in turn, expected the same support from him and to his credit he has always urged me on, even when I felt like quitting.
I thought that mothering and art would go hand in hand seamlessly, but I was a bit naive. When my son was three, I took a five week residency eight hours from my home. Looking back on it, I can't believe I had enough guts to do it. It was hard and I missed my son terribly. At the same time, I recognized my own need for quiet moments to reflect and learn. I was hard headed and focused enough to make it happen. By the time my son was eight, I had studied abroad for an extended period of time and taken another residency in Maine. When sharing my plans with other non-artist mothers, they would pull their children in closer while shaking their heads to let me know they could never make this kind of decision. I knew that if a father where in a similar situation, it would simply be taken in stride and the wife would keep the home fires burning until his return. I didn't receive that same feeling of support from moms I'd talk to in the school yard about my need, though my absence from home was a direct result of needing more training and time in order to do my job better. After a while, this mindset started effecting me. I began doing less art and more mothering, thinking that this would lead to a well adjusted child. I don't regret how I've spent my time, but working less with clay made me unhappy on a subtle level that was even hard for me to identify. However, my son is now seventeen, can drive himself to school and makes a mean bean burrito without any help from me.
This past year, I have felt more and more like myself, that is my "old self". I now have the freedom to re-visit who I was in the before time. I am reconnecting to the energy that gave me so much happiness. Seeing the film, Who Does She Think She Is, really churned up lots of things that I had simply been repressing in order to get on with the day to day. In part, the film made me sad, revealing the tough struggle women face when trying to do two things well at the same time. It also gave me hope, for there are women out there who, against all odds, are just getting art done.
In fact, my fascination with Janis Mars Wunderlich was in part sparked by the fact that she has five children in her house, yet she manages to continue with her sculpting. This past I Friday I not only got a chance to meet her (a very charming and personable woman), but also got the chance to have a private viewing of this documentary. I knew nothing about the film and expected it to be fluffy for some reason. I was mistaken. I discovered this documentary was made by Pamela Tanner Boll, who won an Academy Award for her documentary, Born Into Brothels. I also learned that Ms. Bolls is a West Virginia native who grew up in Parkersburg. Rather than the film showing women easily going between the two worlds of artist and motherhood, it depicted women having a hell of a time trying to do both. Often the struggle ended with the artist being forced to choose between her art and her marriage. One of the husbands told his wife, "I need a wife." She responded by saying she needed one too-something that I have felt more than once. Seeing how little support these women (with the exception of Janis, who is happily married) received from their husbands gave me a deeper appreciation of how much support I have received.
While I sat in a fairly empty theatre watching this film, it was debuting to a sold out audience in NYC at the Angelika Film Center. While Ms. Bolls has tremendous talent and experience in the field of documentary making, she found that the film industry didn't find this subject matter interesting enough to release. I suppose children being born into Calutta brothels is just more fascinating than the struggle of the female artist in America. Rather than letting this lack of interest from the industry silence her film, Ms. Bolls is releasing the movie on her own. It gives me a sense of pride in her and in all struggling women who must make art...
