Stories from “Motherhood Island”
This Mother’s Day, we’re honored to share reflections from five artists whose creative practice has been shaped and inspired by their experiences of motherhood. These artists describe how caregiving sharpens their artistic voice, reshapes their mediums, renews their dedication, and deepens their sense of purpose. Their stories are honest, bold, and often tender—offering a glimpse into the beauty, complexity, and transformation that comes from creating art in the midst of motherhood.
Rachel Stallings Thomander (Colombian American, b. 1989)
Mensaje 5 (2023)
Mixed media on wood, 40 x 40 inches
Used with permission of the artist
Secret Corners of Motherhood: Rachel Thomander Stallings
I am a Colombian-American artist based in Santa Cruz, CA. I work in textile, ceramic, painting, sculpture, photography and video. My work gives voice to the silent and secret corners of motherhood, where moments quickly come and go and memories fade as quickly as dreams. The work is bumpy and goofy and reminds me of the days I go to the park, wipe up my son’s poop off the wall, and doze off during the day because of severe sleep deprivation. My children’s doodles and particular interests are sprinkled throughout the work.
Motherhood has also allowed me to reconnect with my childhood. Some of my works act as a game of “I Spy” where the audience can find seashells, baby footprints, pretzels or toast. I have lived on this motherhood island for a while now and I have depicted the things I have seen here.
– Rachel Thomander Stallings, visual artist
Rachel Stallings Thomander (Colombian American, b. 1989)
Abuelita Sign (2023)
Ceramic, 10 x 10 inches
Used with permission of the artist
Because I Need To: Becca Fullmer
I have been a mom now for 17 months and while I am no longer dancing full-time with a company or even anything close to that, I am sure to make dance a priority for myself, but also because I want my son to know that it is important to do what he loves, and to always continue to develop his God-given talents and share them with the world. So, I will keep dancing, moving, creating, and choreographing because I need to.
– Becca Fullmer, dance artist
The Divine Plan: Elise Wehle
During COVID, my anxiety peaked. Pregnant with our third child, I questioned if the world was safe for my new baby and two other children. I feared the unknown, and the gospel-based knowledge that suffering and trials were an essential part of mine and my children’s existence kept me up at night.
Making art about seasons—using the red and browns of autumn and winter and then juxtaposing them with the greens of spring and summer—has helped me understand that even the deepest pain does not last forever, and new growth and joy will always come again.
My art symbolizes the resurrection, both the literal resurrection that conquers death but also the small but essential resurrections we go through in life as we learn to live with grief and hurt.
Constructing patterns that interweave between the human figure and the leaves encompassing it reminds me of an eternal pattern, the divine plan that provides structure and purpose to what often feels like chaos.
Ultimately, my art gives me hope, and I believe others can feel that hope when they look at my art.
– Elise Wehle, visual artist
Elise Wehle (American, b. 1986)
Ghost (A Garden) (2023)
pressed plants and acrylic paint, 24 x 40 inches
Used with permission of the artist
On Motherhood: Amanda Olson
My son is a perfectionist whose genetics mean he comes by it honestly, and as we welcomed this new year with resolutions and hope, we decided that the worst art is the art that never gets made. So now we are accountable to each other about how we spend our time outside our day jobs, fighting the anxious voices that say our artistic contributions will never live up to what we imagine. And there is power in this. Our effort and honesty move art from luxury to necessity.
In January, a neighbor stopped me after our church meetings to offer some kind words about a blurb I wrote for our ward newsletter. He asked, “Are you a writer?”
“I am,” I replied. Immediately. Without hesitation. Like it was who I have been all my life instead of what I thought I would never be good enough to become.
“I thought so,” he said. “Not just anybody could create something like that.”
As I thanked him, I nodded. And beamed.
– Amanda Olson, writer
Sitting With Discomfort: Emilie Buck Lewis
Emilie Buck Lewis
Sitting with Discomfort
acrylic and oil, 8 x 8 inches
Grant winner from the Center’s Art For Uncertain Times
Personally, I had a very hard time with the concept of being a mother. When I was 16, I was the first one to tell you I would not be having children. I resisted the idea that I had to sacrifice all the rest of my God-given gifts to become a mother, as I had been socialized like so many other Mormon girls. When marriage (and motherhood) finally came for me in my mid-to-late thirties, it did not come naturally for me. I loved my children! But I missed my career terribly and resented a lot of the work of motherhood.
For me, this portrait (and it is a self-portrait) encapsulates the difficulty of sitting with whatever personal discomfort you may have. It touches on the holiness of sitting with that discomfort long enough to to tend to the need of another’s discomfort. That one crying loudly to be comforted is not an enemy, but part of your own family, and only when that one has been tended to do you realize that your own discomfort has been healed.
— Emilie Buck Lewis, visual artist
