How ironic is this? Andrew Bryant contacted me requesting I write about the struggle of mixing art and parenthood and I never got the email as I was in Marrakech, lying on a bed of rose petals, being scrubbed down, oiled and massaged, in a luxury Moroccan haman (spa) – completely child free!
Now, I know what you're thinking – but seriously, most of my life is spent at the Tesco check out or rummaging in the laundry basket for school uniforms while going through a thousand lists in my head. But this weekend my lovely niece was getting married in a lavishly decandent hotel in Morocco – and we could only afford for me to go!
But seriously, back to real life. At times trying to survive as a female artist with a large family is at the best, frustrating and at the worst, damn near impossible. I love my children to distraction – I need my art. The tension between both really wears me down. I can't be at the right openings, the London fairs – I do drag in friends to pick up from school, I pay more than I can afford in child care costs – and I get to a few. But I feel that I'm pushing a boulder uphill all the time. And then I get in the studio, for just an hour – and it feels right.
I will finish this research and development, I will exhibit this work, and then I will have to take a long, hard look at the future. But I am loathe to be beaten. I'm not ready for that yet.
