Painting While Pregnant: How My Art Is Changing

Spring Flowers, Acrylic on Canvas, 2025

I am full term now, waiting for my first little one to arrive. I feel her rolling, kicking, and hiccupping throughout the day (and night). As my body has changed, so has my mind—I’ve felt an undeniable pull to paint more, to truly make something of this art thing I’ve been doing for most of my life. Motherhood is already shifting how I see the world, the art I create, and what I believe. It’s making me think about the kind of life I want for her, the kind of environment I want her to grow up in. And naturally, this shift in perspective has deeply impacted my art. 

For years leading up to this pregnancy, I was fixated on death and grief. Several significant losses in my family and close circle led me down a path of exploring these themes through my work. I even created a website dedicated to remembering those who had passed (which is no longer running). My paintings became abstract portraits of lives lost, starting with family members and later expanding to strangers whose obituaries I found online. It was both healing and fascinating to engage with mortality in this way—to face the reality of where we are all headed through art. But as my pregnancy progressed, something shifted. Spring was approaching, my belly was growing, and a new life was preparing to enter the world. It felt like the right time to move away from death and focus on life. Flowers just made sense.

Living in a beautiful coastal community in France, I’ve been surrounded by an explosion of color—mimosa and daffodil yellow, camellia and magnolia pinks and whites, tulips, and so much more. The landscape has been blooming wildly, and it’s impossible not to be inspired by all this life unfolding around me. I found myself craving freedom in my painting, a break from constraints—not just artistic ones, but the limitations that come with pregnancy. My changing mobility, dietary restrictions, fatigue… even the rules I had imposed on my own art started to feel stifling. I needed a subject that welcomed mistakes, that let me move freely, that felt lighthearted. More than anything, I became aware of how important my mental state is during pregnancy. I want to create an environment of peace and joy for her, and I realized that my art could be a part of that.

I’ve been incredibly fortunate to have my husband’s support through all of this. He has worked tirelessly to ensure that both baby and I are rested, healthy, and surrounded by love. I know not everyone has that, and I don’t take it for granted. That support has given me the space to keep momentum with my art, not just for myself, but for my family. I want art to be a place of discovery and joy for our daughter. I want it to be a way I contribute—financially, culturally, and emotionally—to our family and community. More than anything, I want her to see the world from different angles, to explore and discover.

That said, I don’t want to burden artist parents with the idea that we must do everything perfectly for our kids—that our art must serve some grand purpose for them. Because in the end, creating is enough. Taking time to make something for ourselves keeps a sacred space in our lives, something just for our own souls. And that in itself is a gift to our children. To have them grow up in a home where art is being made, where it simply exists around them—that exposure alone is valuable. What they do with it will be up to them in the end.

Art has always been a way for me to process, to understand, and to connect with the world. Now, it’s also becoming a bridge between me and the life I’m about to bring into it. Whether she grows up to be an artist or not doesn’t really matter. What matters is that she grows up knowing that creativity, expression, and exploration are always within reach.