I dragged the pencil upward, making the line curve. It formed the second tipped point, just beneath a golden dot of my baby girl’s crown sitting atop the chocolate frosting of her hair. I set the crown diagonally above her pink cupcake figure, light brown arms protruding, holding forest green Play-Doh.
Dotted black seeds detailed the top of my middle son’s lime green kiwi head, half-cut and exposed, he stood looking down at his baby sister, orange clay in hand as well. I’d forgotten to draw the tail on my eldest son and went back to add the thick brown, black-striped appendage to my little reading raccoon and adorned him with his blue glasses.
I illustrated my children at an art workshop. It came from the canvas of my imagination and landed on paper. The idea was seeded by my husband’s nicknames for them and their effusive, bright, and beautiful personalities.
My big boy is a bright, sweet 8-year old who rap battles with his mom and teaches his younger siblings half-karate, half-break-dancing moves. He is the most emotionally intelligent human I know. He asks hard, existential life questions to parents who were not expecting that kind of heavy thoughtfulness from someone his age.
My middle kiddo is probably one of the funniest human beings I know. He is incredibly kind, perceptive, and smart as all get-out. I still don’t know who taught him how to read, but he does it! He has his day made each time he gets to say good morning to his big brother. My 4-year old little guy prides himself on being a good little brother and a good big brother, and loves gaming and painting, respectively, with his siblings.
My almost 2-year old baby girl is a ball of singing, coloring, dancing energy. She is in charge. Of everything. She loves making art, playing with her subjects/big brothers, and singing nursery rhymes. She gets a kick out of making fun of her grandma for not knowing how to sing in response to nursery rhymes in Spanish.
The illustration had been in my head for months--maybe even before then. When I sat down to draw it, I was able to sketch and doodle poses, play with concepts, and sample colors.
When I gave myself permission to be in an art workshop I gave myself the space and time to purposefully create. I finally did what my brain had been nudging me to do for hundreds of days. I made meaning with pieces of me.
How do I prioritize meaning in my life by building daily creative practices?
Creating room for meaning was hard because I questioned my deservingness, ability, and the practicality of inserting “free” time instead of working on something more important. When I realized that my well-being was centered around my regular creative practice, I knew that I could only thrive as a mother, wife, daughter, sister, and human being by engaging in my purpose.
I realized that I had to put myself in an environment where I would be forced to dig, discover, reveal, and sit with myself and my life through my art and writing. It is how I process the life stuff.
My subconscious and conscious meet with the physical act of drawing and writing. I process my life happenings by thinking inward, then acting outward.
By forging my path to meaning, I ensure that the rest of my life will function.
Otherwise, a more pragmatic version of myself would insist on doing the “right” thing, walking around with a building resentment for everyone around me, for not getting to choose me. It revealed to me that I always had a choice. I had to make space for this reset, to allow myself to restart a daily practice.
I invested in an art workshop with Amanda Oleander, one of my favorite illustrators, took three days off from work, traveled 400 miles by air with my breastfeeding toddler, and flew my mother from 200 miles away so she could babysit for me over a five-day period.
I had a schedule stacked to eternity with zero space for serendipity, and the space I needed came by my design. It made me at once proud of myself and a little sad that I’d lost so much time denying myself the pleasure of creation and the reward of improvement.
No more.
How do I prioritize meaning in my life by building daily creative practices?
When I create regular space for meaning I lessen regret and bolster gratitude. This is compounding gratitude–an asset that grows and gets banked as I travel towards the end of my life, reminding me that it was well-lived.
A daily art and writing practice has been a goal for some time. Mostly it was a challenge to figure out how to accelerate my skills as quickly as possible.
Then I recognized that slower growth and multiple iterations form the playground of skill development.
I get to find my rhythm or build my creation cadence, and watch what springs forth from it.
I see opportunities for more storytelling, greater connection, and giving more meaning to my days, and my life.
How do I prioritize meaning in my life by building daily creative practices?
I posit and plant questions that I find myself answering quickly or circuitously. What have I learned from each piece?
I see opportunities to take chances and do things differently.
I note what I didn’t like or what I’m not satisfied with and it informs what I need to work on.
I look for challenges, I look for myself, and I find her each time.
How do I prioritize meaning in my life by building daily creative practices?
Placing myself in the environment I needed to be in made me realize the ongoing struggle I had with the Pareto principle or the 80/20 rule which states that 80% of outcomes come from 20% of causes.
My dissatisfaction was hidden in this design. I’m tired of 20% producing my 80%.
I want to live and breathe and stretch the 20 into 80.
I’m not satisfied with seeing how I can raise myself from 0 to 2 to 5, etc. each day or week or <insert interval.>
It is not enough for me to thrive on spots of creative nourishment when I finally decide that I deserve an opportunity to squeeze my hedonistic creative impulses into crumbs that litter the pockets of energy in my life.
No more.
How do I prioritize meaning in my life by building daily creative practices?
I’m growing my 20 percent causal creative energy to 80 percent. I’ll shift upward in skill and development each time, creating more capacity for better iterations of myself.
I’ll inhabit the moment, grow in it, and force myself to give Queen Cupcake, Kiwi, and Raccoon’s creator the berth to restore and enrich herself, daily.
I can’t wait to see what she does with it.
What a wonderful piece, Dekera.
I loved both the description as well as your drawing of Queen Cupcake, Kiwi, and Raccoon. As someone currently considering motherhood, this made me feel hopeful (as one of my deeper fears is my whole identity potentially fully collapsing into that of a mother).
Thank you for sharing!
Beautiful piece Dekera. Your illustration of your kids (both in picture and in words) warmed my heart.
I can't wait to keep following as you grow your own practice.