What about the work you don’t see me do?

How being a motherhood has made me a more confident artist

Welcome to Follow Your Gut, a newsletter about the artist life and business from a mother of two. After soon a decade as an independent artist and writer, the question is not only how to do it, but how to continue to follow your gut in a world that tries its best to stuff it with fluff.

85% of new letters are free to read for 3 days, whereafter they go behind a paywall. If this is our first date, I warmly invite you to check out the free archive first. I’m Swedish after all, don’t want to be too pushy (just a loving nudge ❤️).

Hi!

I think I’ve reached the next step in the invisible thought process necessary for the sequel to my book When Will You Get a Real Job.

It’s not actually about How To Keep a Real Job as I first thought, but really it’s about figuring out How To Be a Mother And an Artist Entrepreneur At The Same Time.

This got me thinking more about how a huge part of the creative process takes place behind closed doors, or more so, in hidden creative chambers of the mind.

Much like motherhood, where a large part of being a mother involves work invisible to the eye, yet is as necessary and present as the air we breathe.

To learn more about the When Will You Get a Real Job book, click here (it’s part of my Substack bookshop available to all who graces me with an upgrade, thank you in advance I truly appreciate you 🥰🙏🏼)

My husband with one of his embroideries that I think fits perfectly beautiful to the story of invisible work.

The day you enter motherhood you quickly realize the amount of unseen work involved in raising children.

The infinite emotional labour, the constant planning ahead of “just-in-case” scenarios, the around the clock availability… the list can be endless.

What’s fascinating is that the longer I’m a mother, the more I realize how much similarities and cross-overs there are in my artistic pursuits.

That it’s all the work we don’t see an artist do that really matters.

Because truthfully, an art piece doesn’t take just the time to realize it. There may be hours, weeks, months if not years of contemplation, reflection, research and perhaps even trials and errors before reaching a final result. The same goes for books, the masterpiece of a writer.

A book may take 1 month to crank out but 10 years to plan… And what about those 10 years? Don’t they count too?

This is probably why charging for creative and artistic work is so difficult. Because the standard metric for most paid labour is to charge an hourly rate, when in fact it makes no sense to charge per hour for your artistry (you need to charge per project!).

Me with a large work in progress of Paris

Some art forms take longer to practice, and thus few are willing to pay a decent hourly pay (embroidery sadly falls into this category. I would’ve never been able to lead a flourishing artist life if I was dependent on artwork sales and commissions only).

Other practices may be quick to execute but are long to conceptualise or prepare…

But who wants to pay for what they don’t see?

Artistic value is fictional to the extent that the value is whatever you make it up to be. Naturally there needs to be a component of what someone is willing to pay in relation to what you’re willing to sell for (supply and demand).

But ultimately, an expensive piece of art is much like a luxury brand; it’s not just the materials nor the techniques per se, but the story and name involved that sets the price.

In other words, if you don’t express and embody the entire invisible process as part of your artistic persona and value, then nobody will recognize it, because nobody sees it.

Perhaps this is why many mothers feel the need to express their frustrations around the lack of recognition for the unseen labour we do on a daily basis? Because if we don’t express it, we feel as though it doesn’t count. That perhaps, we do nothing when in reality we do everything.

Final version of the large embroidery piece, pictured in front of the original inspiration in the Saint-Germain-des-Près area in Paris. To me, it’s all about the odd corners that makes the entire story come to life… Just imagine who walked that street in the past? Who put up that lamp-post?

I think that it’s the work you don’t see us do, both as mothers and artists, that both matters and gets neglected the most.

To be a mother has given me greater confidence in, and understanding of, my own artistry and that what I do, whether you can see it or not, is an essential part of the overall process.

That just because I cannot schedule inspiration, nor plan when to get my best ideas, doesn’t mean that I don’t work.

Thank you for reading!

Elin, xx

If you enjoyed this essay I’d love a ♥️ as it helps to spread the word 🥰 And please let me know your reflections and experience around unseen labour in the comments

You may also enjoy to read:

• Why bother about creativity?

• The more I look for inspiration, the less I find it

• When will you get a real job?

Or learn embroidery here

Hi there, new here?

I’m Elin, Swedish (expat) artist and mother of two who have plunged into the unknown of Substack as a new writing home. Despite having 500k+ across mainstream social media platforms for my embroidery art, I decided to start afresh here. It’s hard, thrilling and joyful all in one. Come and join me for the ride if you haven’t done so already! You can expect thought-provoking and poignant writing about creativity, life and soulful art business with a touch of motherhood.

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