06 Sep Collector’s Notebook: The Art of Motherhood

When artist Adrienne Stein and her husband, artist Quang Ho, told a group of friends they were pregnant, a friend they both knew well turned to Stein and said, “You know, your career is going to take a big hit.” 

“I thought it was interesting that he decided to say that to me and not to Quang,” she says. “The insinuation being that I will be giving up my career to raise a child.”

Of course, that comment comes with hundreds of years of historical proof that women traditionally paused what they were doing to raise children. This may be why many famous female artists did not have children, among them Frida Kahlo, Georgia O’Keeffe, and Mary Cassatt. It was also extremely rare to meet female Abstract Expressionists of the early and mid-20th century who had children. Of the famous Ninth Street women — Lee Krasner, Elaine de Kooning, Grace Hartigan, Joan Mitchell, and Helen Frankenthaler — only Hartigan had a child, and she sent him to be raised by her parents while she pursued her career. In more recent times, there have been prominent women artists who raised children, but for many, artist Tracey Emin’s famous comment rings true: “There are good artists that have children. Of course there are. They are called men.”

But really, it’s not just motherhood that has historically sidelined women. Here’s a fun fact. Rosa Bonheur, a renowned French artist of the 19th century, was required to get a permit to wear trousers, which she needed so she could attend horse fairs, study animals at slaughterhouses, draw on location, or ride her horse comfortably. Bonheur, who never married and didn’t have children, was a financially independent artist — quite wealthy, by all accounts — at a time when women who made art were viewed as having a nice hobby, something to keep idle hands busy while the family was off doing other things.

The art world has traditionally been male-dominated, and the expectation for women to prioritize family life over professional ambition has often led to the marginalization of female artists. Despite this, the landscape is gradually changing, with more female artists openly discussing and navigating the challenges of motherhood alongside their creative pursuits. To get a pulse on contemporary artists who are negotiating careers and mothering, Stein, Kate Brockman, Robin Cole, and Stephanie Hartshorn share their perspectives on “the Mommy Problem.”

Varied Experiences

Cole says that the approach to work-family balance is as varied as the person making each decision. “I think this is so personality-specific,” says Cole. “I mean, it took me a really long time to decide that I wanted to have children at a philosophical level. So, when I found myself with this sweet baby boy, it took me by surprise how much I absolutely ceased to care about anything else. It’s shocking. I thought I’d be back out in the studio in eight weeks. I mean, I’m self-employed, right? I can take as much unpaid leave as I want, but I am a meaningful contributor to our family’s bottom line.”

Stein, despite well-meaning warnings, hasn’t broken her stride. When she entered motherhood, she couldn’t take time off. She had shows lined up and paintings in various stages that needed to be completed and shipped across the country. “Liam has really lived in our studios ever since he was born. And by that, I mean at three days old, he was strapped on me in my studio,” Stein says. “I’m very fortunate to have a wonderful and supportive partner who’s very participatory. And since we’re both artists, it worked for us to fold him right into what we were already doing.”

For Brockman, a sculptor who, prior to marrying, had built a foundry in her studio to pour her bronze casts, there was no way she could have a child anywhere near her studio. The bigger problem was finding a solid period to work away from home. “I couldn’t just pick up a piece of clay and start sculpting. You’ve got to make an armature, and well, there’s a process. So, unless I could get four hours in my studio, nothing was going to happen,” she says, reflecting on her choice to ultimately put her career on the back burner for 18 years while she raised her daughter. “I had moments where I’d think, I have to get the hell out of here and get to the studio, even if I just sit and stare at an artwork for two hours. It just felt so selfish to go to my studio.”

Hartshorn was working as an architect when she married and started her family. The thought of shifting into an art career happened, in a way, because of her children and the desire to instill creativity in them. “When my girls were born, I ended up staying home for six years — that was unplanned. It worked out beautifully, and I would not take one of those days away,” she says. “It’s strange, though. I know myself as these different iterations in life; my girls only know me as an artist, and I find that mind-blowing.”

She recalls walking around construction sites days before going into labor. “My daughter was born a week after my last big project ended,” she recalls. “Kate was born, and right away, I knew that the allotted time off was not enough. I requested an extra three months without pay.” Hartshorn did go back to work, but by the time her second daughter came along, the economy had gone south, so she took the opportunity to regroup and focus on developing her painting career.

Mom-Guilt

Some parents, mommy groups, or members of the PTA generally don’t understand what these artists do, either. Why can’t you just crank out a painting while making cookies?

“I loved being involved with the girls’ school, but I had a new path in art opening for me, and I had not fully established myself,” Hartshorn recalls. “When things were happening at the school, I found myself thinking I could help, but wait, this is my time, and it’s a very short window before the kids get home and need me.” She also says she wasn’t really considered a career woman but instead someone who had a self-centered hobby. “It was really stressful for me at times,” Hartshorn says. “I just felt so much guilt.”

Now that Brockman’s daughter is heading off to college, she finds the divide between friend groups quite striking. “I had some sculptures in a gallery show downtown. All my friends came, and they were like, ‘Oh, this is serious stuff; you’re not just fooling around with a little bit of clay,’” Brockman says. “But I will say that beyond the parenting group, I kind of feel like an outsider anyway, with anybody who is not an artist. I mean, I don’t think my husband gets what I do, really, or why I do it.”

Ebb and Flow

The mother-artist internal conflict is, as Cole notes, timeless. It can encompass the feelings of failing at everything and being richly fulfilling. These are some of the complexities in finding balance.

“I think it’s very easy to lose yourself,” Stein says, not only of motherhood but of being married to an established artist. “I sometimes question whether I am sucked into Quang’s vortex already. But I was never Quang’s student, and I don’t paint anything like him. I’ve had a path that’s really distinct. I have my own unique vision and artistic approach. We influence each other a lot as artists, and we ask for each other’s opinions, and we critique each other’s work quite a bit. And Quang is devoted to me having as much time to paint and to develop as an artist as he gets.”

Cole admits she was worried about losing herself and her art because she had been, before marriage, fiercely independent. “The part that kind of surprised me the most,” Cole says, “was not external pressure. It was a very honest, internal yearning. I did not understand how much of my emotional register had not been explored yet. And there was so much that came into my being as a mother, and by extension as an artist, that I didn’t know I was missing.”

“Being a mother,” Brockman adds, “has matured me in a way that allowed me to jump right back into making art. I’m not behind, I haven’t suffered; my skills are still there. But now I understand unconditional love. I understand some of the other elements that only parenting really could have given me.”

And despite the fact that juggling motherhood and career requires tremendous strength, patience, and an ability to navigate minefields, for an artist, Cole says, there’s an unparalleled richness that comes into your life. “Though it took quite a number of studio hours away from me,” she says, “it returned dividends. It added a sort of nuance and fearlessness to my creativity that maybe wasn’t there before.”

Stein agrees with Cole, adding that in addition to craft, “The most important piece that we often don’t think about, which is far more important than the hours, is the depth of the well that the art springs forth from. And there’s just nothing richer than loving your child and experiencing parenthood. And the art and the inspiration that comes from it happens in ways that you don’t expect.”

“It’s really important to think in terms not of what you might be losing but what you’re gaining,” Brockman says. “And you don’t know what that is until you’re holding that baby in your arms for the first time.”

Her advice: Be open to allowing your life to change instead of dwelling on what you might miss. “I have lots of friends who have maintained very good studio practices as sculptors and parents,” she says. “Everyone’s different and it’s a very personal thing. What might work for your friend might not work for you.”

“I’m going to propose,” Hartshorn says, as the conversation wraps up, “that it’s not the mommy problem — it’s the mommy puzzle. Problems have weight. A puzzle, though, we’ve got all the pieces in the box. It’s a matter of putting them together, and it takes time, but they’re all there.”

Curator and writer Rose Fredrick shares her extensive knowledge about the inner workings of the art market on her blog, The Incurable Optimist, at rosefredrick.com.