Art can be a time-consuming, stressful, and exhausting commitment. Nearly all artistic paths come with a struggle, and yet, the best artists live for their craft through good and bad times, through tears and laughter, and through times of both accomplishment and failure. Ultimately, artists follows a mantra of “keep going, keep trying, keep learning,” not because they want to, but because they are instinctively wired to do so.
Therefore, in a sense, parents are some of the strongest artists on the planet. Their care for their children is their craft. Their constant adaptation to the stages of young life is their struggle. Their accomplishment is reflected in the accomplishments of their children, in the morals and life skills they forged within them.
Parenthood could be interpreted as the most organic form of artistic creation: the birth of a new life physically shaped by a lacing of each parent’s genetic make-up, paired with the influence of parent/child interaction. As John Lennon once observed in “Beautiful Boy,” one of the best songs to describe fatherhood:
“The joy is still there when I see Sean. He didn’t come out of my belly but, by God, I made his bones, because I’ve attended to every meal, and to how he sleeps, and to the fact that he swims like a fish. That’s because I took him to the ‘Y’. I took him to the ocean. I’m so proud of those things. He is my biggest pride, you see.”
The final lyric is telling of the mutual accomplishment shared between artists and parents (coming from a music legend who was both), and also to the ways in which parenthood takes this feeling a step further. An artistic process — whether it is painting, sculpting, or songwriting — eventually comes to an end when a piece is finished, and while this initial surge of accomplishment is likely euphoric, it is certainly destined to end as well (at least until the next creative endeavor begins).
In parenthood, this feeling lives on. I have great memories of my son’s first year of life and holding him or playing with him outside on my back patio at sundown listening to Lennon’s song, reflecting on the living miracle I helped to create and the unbreakable bond we now share. I continue to foster the type of person he will grow up to become, but he himself will also learn many lessons on his own. My most brilliant creation will continue to create and add onto himself, a masterpiece capable of constant self-innovation. After all, it is important to not “clip a child’s wings,” so to speak, as he or she gains independence.
However, my place in this equation is constant, and my art is far from complete. I will continue to guide my son through the tough moments in life, to celebrate the fun times and to help manage the stressful ones. Each guiding chapter will serve as another brush stroke, another chiseling strike, another chord fitted into a progression. And at the end of the day, when my son has become a man, I will still be here for him, not as a creator to which he is indebted, but as someone who loves him, who continues to long for his wellbeing and enduring happiness — the same happiness he has provided me since his birth.
