As I sat at the table surrounded by colorful origami paper, my three-year-old son eagerly watched me fold intricate designs from an Origami World set I found at Blick Art Shop shortly after our move from Munich to Washington State. Each fold became a lesson in patience and creativity, as I struggled to create vehicles while he cheered me on. His joy reminded me of the beauty in small victories and how art can connect us across generations, transforming moments of frustration into opportunities for growth and bonding.

Today, I want to talk about something I know many of us struggle with—balancing life's changes as both an artist and a parent. Recently, I went through a major transition myself: moving from Munich, Germany, to Washington State, USA. What a journey! As an artist, I'm usually in the flow, creating 15 to 20 artworks a month, including studies. But September? It was a different story. With the chaos of moving, I only managed to finish two pieces. Isn’t it fascinating how life can suddenly shift our plans, no matter how well we think we have it all under control?

As a mom, I’ve learned that the journey of parenting is filled with ups and downs, especially during those developmental "leaps." The Wonder Weeks app helped me track these phases when my son was a baby, revealing that challenging behaviors often coincide with rapid cognitive growth. Now at three years old, I see that these leaps continue, bringing moments of frustration alongside sheer joy. Recently, I captured one of his happiest smiles in a painting inspired by a special moment at Starbucks, reminding me that even amidst the chaos, there are beautiful moments to cherish.

Why do I paint my son so often? It’s not just because he’s the center of my universe. Painting him allows me to reflect on our relationship, work through my emotions, and find ways to repair and grow. Inspired by Becky Kennedy’s TED Talk on the importance of repairing parent-child relationships, I’ve found that art is a powerful tool for understanding and improving my parenting.

Don't you think taking photos of kids without getting noticed is the best way to capture a great photo? The expression that you cannot quite explain? The photo reference for this painting was taken when I took my son to the zoo and he saw a giraffe for the first time. I wanted to capture his face just as he saw the giraffe, so I quietly crept up from behind and held the camera suddenly in front of him to capture that instant without him reacting to the camera. His expression was so different—full of curiosity and a twinkle in his eyes. That's what I wanted to share in this painting: the twinkliness of curiosity that children, and even adults, are capable of.

We go through loss every month, a cycle of hope and disappointment mixed with the pain of missed chances. From creating symbolic art to facing setbacks, each step shaped my journey to becoming a mother, teaching me to value every precious moment.

'Womb,' was inspired by my son's transition to a new daycare where there was a tug-of-war between wanting to protect him and the realization that he is capable of navigating life's challenges on his own.

As a mother and an artist, I often catch myself trying to balance my passion for painting and caring for my son. I dread not being able to paint at some point during the day. Painting helps me stay sane, reflect on relationships, and hold onto a part of myself through parenthood. Gradually, I've learned to prioritize my creative time without guilt, realizing it's essential for my well-being and personal growth.

Something about that newborn phase, up until around five months old, made me feel like my son was an alien. Maybe it's my sleep deprivation, his underdeveloped vision, limited communication, innate reflexes, or just the profound bond and hormonal changes in me—I can't quite understand what my newborn son was thinking or feeling, making him seem almost alien and sacred. There was one moment when he just gazed at the lamp light for such a long time, with a face that I associated with something sacred. This was a watercolor portrait to capture his sacredness, with the exact reference photo being this moment of his sacred gaze.

I said 'Sorry, Kai.' He looked at me curious, surprised, but so concerned. It caught me off guard when he said 'Why, what’s wrong?' He's never put words together like that before. It just caught me of guard to realize how much hes grown and capable with understanding feelings.

fter my son was born, I struggled with the realization that I couldn't protect him from life's hardships. My artwork reflected these fears, showing his innocence against a dark background. This symbolized the balance of light and darkness in life. Art helps me embrace vulnerability and find beauty in the journey of parenthood.