Actor and dancer Liv Tennet found the chaotic reality of new motherhood was quite different to how she'd imagined it would be. Photo / Andi Crown
Is it really possible to have it all when you’re a mother, especially in a fickle career like the arts? Actor, dancer and former Shortland Street star Liv Tennet looks for the answer in her new solo show.
OPINION
During lockdown, I started choreographing short dances to my6-month-old baby’s musical toys. You know the ones — brightly coloured, plastic and obnoxiously loud.
I filmed the dances and shared them on social media. At the time, I’d lost all prospects of any acting, dance or choreography work, and my partner Tom, who’s a musician, had lost all live gigs, all local and international tours, and all clients at his recording studio.
It was a desperately scary time to be trying to make a living in the arts to support your family.
The videos, however, became increasingly popular. Maybe it was because they somehow encapsulated the insanity felt by parents stuck at home with their small children, as well as the creeping panic of artists who were a) trying to stay visible, and b) frantically trying to find inspiration to create art from within the confinement of their home.
My son, Alwyn, is almost 5 now and, thankfully, the work is back, but I still feel this underlying panic because for me, raising a child and pursuing an artistic career are often at odds with each other. From a logistical perspective, the juggle is relentless.
Life for most artists is constantly fickle. You don’t choose this job if you want consistency of work, financial security or a predictable routine.
A “normal” week for me might consist of a recording session voicing Kiri for the children’s claymation TV series Kiri and Lou, two full days on a film set for a choreography job, a dance gig for a music video, conceptual and creative meetings for an upcoming job, an audition, a mountain of self-employed admin and, right now, as much time as possible in a dance studio devising my solo show.
No day, week or month looks the same. And that would be crazy enough, but it’s even crazier if consistency, security and routine are exactly what you’re trying to provide for the tiny person you now share your life with.
A lot of the time I feel like a duck — swimming gracefully on the surface to create a serene sense of calm, while in reality my legs are thrashing furiously under the water.
It requires a fine balance to make it all work. My partner and I plan our lives in Google Calendar looking six weeks ahead, whilst remaining acutely aware we need the flexibility to change everything at a day’s notice.
Alwyn is the biggest inspiration for my work, but what I’d once imagined my life would be like as a mum and creative artist is nowhere near as chaotic, exhausting, messy, joyful and enlivening as the reality of raising a small human.
I appreciate many people are not able (or choose not) to have children, and I am so very grateful for the privilege of parenthood. But I constantly feel there are not enough hours in the day, and keeping a small human alive while simultaneously nurturing my artistic identity often seems like an impossible task.
That’s what I’m exploring in my show, For You to Know and Me to Find Out. In new motherhood, it was really hard for me to believe in the importance of creating art. It seemed frivolous compared with the responsibility of raising a child, which felt like working on a masterpiece.
But as my child grows, I’ve come to realise that I can’t live without creating and sharing another work, in the hope the world might appreciate it and be inspired by it. It is, after all, what I’ve dedicated my life to.
I now appreciate there has to be compromise. And that’s something I want to model for my son. In my work, I have to accept that certain things are going to be flawed, and those flaws are actually the things that sometimes make the work more interesting.
As a parent, I, too, am not going to get everything right. But the things I don’t get right may just add colour to my son’s life in a good way.
Making art, like parenting, is a process. And that process can be profound, and at times profoundly frustrating. But it’s never too late to make something. How I manage to get there is up to me — and now I’m doing it for both of us.
Created and performed by Liv Tennet, For You to Know and Me to Find Out is a dance narrative that explores motherhood, transformation and the existential quest of one woman grappling with the possibility of having it all — and the question of what ‘it all’ is. Auckland’s Basement Theatre, August 6-10.