My Artist Residency in Motherhood (ARiM), June - June 2025

  • Artist Residency in Motherhood (ARiM) is self-directed, open-source artist residency to empower and inspire artists who are also mothers, established by Leika Clayton in 2012. It reframes parenthood as a valuable site for creative practice, rather than an obstruction to be overcome.

  • Because the birth of my first child at the end of November 2020 changed many things in my life. I find that many aspects of the professional performing arts world are more difficult to access to artists with families. For example, I struggle to find long-term work, or enough work to sustain my creative practice and support myself. I struggle to find enough time and resources to go to workshops. And, presently, I’m unable to leave my child for longer than two nights, so cannot access longer creative residences.

  • By embracing and exploring the fragmented focus, limited creative and/or free time, continuous interruptions, forgetfulness, distractedness, limited movement, almost non-existent financial resources, and general upheaval that parenthood brings, and allowing it to shape the direction of my work, rather than try to work “despite” it.

*** The photo above and below was taken by my 3.5-year-old son at the start of this ARiM.

“… rather than a society structured by the assumption that the typical human is self-sufficient, autonomous and competent, we might instead position vulnerability as a central idea when considering a ‘typical person’”, Darren O’Donnell in Hettie Judah’s How Not to Exclude Artist Mothers (and other parents).

Motherhood, parenting, and mothering make us vulnerable. The immense change to your reality brought by the coming of your child often shatters your identity into pieces. And you are left to, slowly, gradually, through many anxious, sleepless, guilt-riddled, foggy, forgetful, breast-leaking, unfocused hours, days and years, pick these identity pieces up and put them back together. You might also meet your shadow self, which is a little scary. At least, this was my experience for the first three-and-a-half years of my son’s life. This process makes you incredibly vulnerable because you might struggle to efficiently and competently perform many things, including work things, that used to be easy. Joyful. That brought you satisfaction and confidence.

I gave birth in 2020, in the middle of the pandemic, when my work stopped regardless of becoming a mother. But, oh, how I felt it soon after life went back to a relative “normal”. I felt an immense burst of creativity but constantly lacked TIME - free time, time to myself, my time, time on my own - to realise it. I went back to doing some work soon after the birth of my son. I pushed for it and I fought for it, mainly with myself. I felt desperate for it. It was my way of piecing myself back together. But many doors remained firmly shut because I felt too guilty to leave my son for long hours; maybe I wasn’t ready to do it anyway. Or because I couldn’t travel somewhere with him. Or because I couldn’t commit. Or I didn’t have enough energy.

Yet. While you are amid early motherhood, the chaotic, overwhelming and all-encompassing falling apart, there opens up the depth of emotions, especially love, so immense, I have never experienced anything like it. And the creativity I already mentioned washes over you so intensely, that you can barely hold yourself together. At least, this was my experience.

I am past the identity-shattering phase of motherhood, although my self is nowhere near pieced back together. I suppose it takes the rest of your life. Or maybe it is never complete. But things feel more settled and grounded, and my head is less foggy because I am finally getting some sleep. And I’ve been feeling an intense urge, a nagging feeling, a desire to make new work and to perform live, in person again. I’m still unable to go on a longer residency alone because I continue to breastfeed my son, and a long separation is too stressful for both of us. I’ve also struggled to find opportunities to be part of someone else’s performance project. Many doors continue to be firmly shut. So, I decided to do this new creative process differently.

During my ARiM, I will revisit the idea of daily practice, long-ago introduced to me by a dear friend and colleague. A daily practice that takes place not only during the specially designated creative time/space but also whilst performing any daily task, including parenting, like going for a walk or taking a shower, playtime or putting your child to bed. A practice that falls in between the cracks of professional time/space, but can be just as meaningful. I might not have access to a studio space, but I will work towards it. Meanwhile, my small home studio, my garden, outdoor spaces, and any other suitable space will be my R&D space. During my daily practice, I want to move, reflect, write, and create. I want to put the foundations for a new performance work. I might not have a relationship with a performing arts venue, but I will work towards it. Meanwhile, I will find ways to document my exploration and creative work, I will speak about it to others, share bits of it online, and look for opportunities to share the work-in-progress in person. In the process of my daily practice, I will consciously incorporate parenting, in all of its forms, into my creative work. I will be curious about it. I will celebrate it. I will embrace the daily challenges, and especially the immense depth of new emotions, experiences and creativity that parenting brings. While the new performance work might not be about parenthood, being with my child will be part of my daily creative practice. Maybe even the most important part.

I will use this digital space to document and share ideas, thoughts, images and videos from my ARiM, between June 2024 and June 2025.

While the new performance work might not be about parenthood, being with my child will be part of my daily creative practice.

Much like with raising a child, producing a work of art requires a tribe.

At first, I was hoping to do my residency unfunded; I value my independence and creative freedom. However, while ARiM (if you feel inspired to do a similar residency, I highly recommend looking through the website) creates a space, funding is key to being able to immerse myself fully in the project and produce my best work - and then, share it with all of you.

No matter how big or small your contribution, it’s going to support the initial stages of a new project. Too often we do such work for free, but we shouldn’t have to.

I'm also turning 40 this July, which feels like a significant milestone and a symbolic landmark to ask my friends, colleagues, collaborators, and the wider artistic community to pitch in towards my ARiM.

It feels like a big ask to me - again, I’m steeped in the culture of trying to do it all on my own - but, much like with raising a child, producing a work of art requires a tribe.

The money raised will pay my artist wage for the initial research and development of the new performance.

If I raise the full amount, I will use it as match-funding to apply for further financial support with the work.

  • ARiM Manifesto

  • Home Studio

  • Improvisation

  • Collaborative Watercolour

From my reflective notes, 26/6/2024: "Filming an improvisation immediately turns it into performance. It also frames the performance space. Reminded myself about the eyes, the gaze, clear focus. Exploring the form rather than the meanings. Next time: work with developing the impulse, allowing it to grow into something."

From my reflective notes, 16/7/24: "Did 3 or 4 improvisations to this track. Clumsy at first. Then gradually, landing into the presence, finding flow and resonances to the sound, the voice, the words; "a ghost from the future wandering in my dreams" (this could almost be the title of my new show).

From my reflective notes, 05/7/2024: "(...) I decided to work more technically, focusing on the eyes, an active gaze. Almost immediately, my body came alive. The power of self-direction, being honest and a little ruthless with yourself, but also listening to your gut. And the power of going back to basics. I am re-learning presence."

From my reflective notes, 24/9/24: "EVERYTHING that has been resonating with me throughout the ARiM process became part of this improvisation. Eyes "being", not thinking. Cleansing rain, diving deep, gliding under water. The expectant extended hand waiting for a small hand to join it. The two beating hearts. Leaving your sleeping child as quietly as you can so as not to wake them.

From my reflective notes, 09/7/2024: "A lot of floor work. Most of it comes from the gut. Heavy emotions are moving the body. But I also grasp some concrete images: a beating heart [is it mine? My child's? Maybe both of ours, beating in tandem inside my body?]; (...) Also hands, my hand open, waiting for another's to join mine."

Reflective Notes & Creative Writing

  • From my Reflective Notes:

    “The performance event itself [of Into the Woods, the outdoor promenade, Oct 2024], has truly tested the intersection between Mothering/Performing, my parent-self and performer-self, resulting in one of my most challenging performances ever. During this ARiM, I’ve been especially inspired by ‘consciously incorporating parenting, in all its forms, into my creative work’. And in some performance situations, when my son was watching and wanted to participate, I incorporated him pretty seamlessly. But this was different. On the night of the performance, my son felt tired, insecure and especially clingy. As soon as the show started, he wanted to be next to me, not only involved but also arguing. His dad couldn’t control him; I didn’t want him to have a bad time. So, I made a split decision to merge my two selves, mothering and performing, almost completely: compromising where possible, improvising, and doing everything to maintain the energy and dynamism of performance, all while handling a very clingy and moody child.

    When I say that on that dark night in the woods full of Halloween spirit, magical creatures, excited kids, tea lights, and chaos I gave it ALL, I really mean it. I gave my everything. And, in the process, I truly experienced real-life performance chaos we tap into in the ball game. The kind of uncontrollable chaos when there’s nothing else to do but only focus on things you can do something about, continuously forgive yourself, keep searching for flow, keep a firm grasp on the here and now, and tap into the deepest energy reserves. I could have asked my partner to take my son away. I didn’t. I didn’t want to. It felt wrong. It was incredibly hard, and it possibly hindered the show (there were some things I couldn’t do as I needed two hands and my son was firmly grasping one of them), but it allowed me to experience the true depth and intensity of ‘consciously incorporating parenting into your creative work’. To experience it beyond the level of an idea, beyond its poetics and theory. To experience how difficult, physically exhausting, and emotionally tearing, yet simultaneously incredibly powerful performing energy it generates. The kind when you feel like you are capable of ANYTHING.

    No wonder, after the show, I needed two weeks to rest, reflect, and process this experience. And admit its complex vulnerability to myself.”

  • Coming soon…