The Artist as a Mama

I have been thinking about respect in the context of the artist today. The artist is definitely one of those people with a refined and at times delighted respect for others, as long as you do not take advantage of her time, which is precious to her. I have also been thinking that the artist has probably spent much of hers listening to others rather than holding court, probably even knowing in advance the ends of some people's sentences, though out of respect never finishing them. I have also been feeling sure this respect has something to do with her upbringing. Her parents have a very strong respect for others. No, the artist does well unto others, which is why I find myself so protective of her today. (I have not always been this protective.) What I am saying is that being an artist and working at home today - self-employed basically - seems to go by unnoticed as a vocation by some, as if art when it really comes down to it is just some kind of hobby. Some of the other mothers are precisely the opposite and pick up on this problem of perception, going so far as to offer kindly to take the children off the artist's hands, so that she can get on with work. But it riles me that the artist as a mother is treated by others with what I consider insufficient respect. I can remember being with the artist at a so-called power dinner with some people who clearly considered themselves very important. At one stage during the conversation, as we all self-consciously dipped into a vast plate of one chopped radish, the artist explained what she did and how she worked at home and how her children were often her subject matter. After a silence - it was like the silence of the damned - one of the women guests said, dismissively, 'Oh lots of my friends do crafty things like that.' This person was an artist too. But she was not a mother. (You cannot be both, she was probably thinking. You have to be one or the other.) It also riles me that these are often so-called feminists saying or feeling such things. I am increasingly thinking that when I introduce the artist's work to people, I should not only tell them immediately that the artist works at home, and that she is a mother, but also that they might like to consider leaving their irony at the door, certainly as far as content is concerned, as this work will not be an experience like any other. Here in the artist's work for example she shows this thing some call, we call, respect. It is an old concept but one I suspect the artist believes has legs. We should maybe all try it. I know I should. I am told it works wonders on the soul.