Social Art “Between a mother and an artist” Shizuoka edition(1)
October 12th Shizuoka Performance: Mikita Hase Presents “Otodama Yakai vol.9 — Ega-ku-” Japanese percussion, Wadaiko Mikita Hase × Original Instruments Katsutoshi Shirasuna × Singing and dancing Ekotumi.
Originally, I had intended to create a website for this project, but time has slipped away, and now my baby is over a year old. Though incomplete, I’ve decided to begin sharing my current balancing “Between a mother and an artist”, even without a proper website. I plan to gradually release updates, working backward to cover everything up to this point.
Shizuoka is about an hour from Tokyo. When I was offered the job, I was ready to be turned down after explaining that I have an infant daughter (at the time, 0-year-baby), that my rehearsal and performance times would be limited, and because I wasn’t willing to leave her behind in Tokyo, as I’d need accommodations that could include her. To my relief, my concerns were unfounded, and he responded by asking if everything would be alright as long as there was someone available to care for your baby during the event. It is very helpful attitude for me to “ask”. After becoming a mother, I’ve realized that every situation with a baby can vary totally change depending on their age(month). Having a baby isn’t something that can be handled with a manual-like approach — where you assume “this is the solution.” Instead, the first step in working together is sharing and understanding what is currently needed and what is possible. Even online meetings, which tend to run late into the night when with musicians, were adjusted so they could end before my daughter returned from kindergarten.
We arranged for rehearsals to take place while she was at kindergarten, limited the performance days to one, ensured I could stay with my daughter overnight, and confirmed that someone would be available to look after her during the event. Because of the limited rehearsal time, we agreed to refine as much of the performance content as possible through pre-meeting discussions. I was profoundly grateful for his understanding approach without annoying face.
On the day of the rehearsal, I dropped my daughter off at kindergarten and headed straight for the bullet train, Shinkansen station. Mini-Tumi always happily goes off to kindergarten, but in case she became fussy and I missed my train, I arranged for an earlier drop-off than usual. I arrived at the station with plenty of time. Calculating in my head, “Five minutes to grab a drink at the convenience store, another five to get to the platform,” and executing that plan effortlessly felt refreshing. When traveling with Mini-Tumi, I’d need to budget an extra 30 minutes. The ease of simply being able to open my laptop on the train brought me a quiet joy. It felt like a mini summer vacation from motherhood, and my spirits were unusually high.
That day, I had informed the kindergarten that I’d be traveling to Shizuoka, especially because the bullet trains had been frequently halted due to typhoons this summer. I made sure they knew that if something unexpected happened, I wouldn’t be able to rush back for an early pick-up, although I planned to pick her up at the usual time. But just in case, I warned them of the possibility that the trains could be stopped. I was grateful not only that my daughter went to kindergarten with her usual smile, but also that her health was perfect that day. The mere thought of her running a slight fever made my blood run cold. Tasks that used to be so simple had become a tightrope walk. Every day felt like a series of prayers.
During the rehearsal, I was moved by the delicate sounds of Miki Hase’s taiko drumming and the enchanting tones of Katsutoshi Shirasuna’s original instruments. It was a fulfilling and blissful time. Though I often talk about “balancing” motherhood and art, the truth is, it’s easier to focus when I’m alone. I felt like I could get lost in that long-forgotten sensation. I resisted the temptation to drink on the way back on the Shinkansen and made it in time to pick up my daughter. The next day, trains were reduced due to the typhoon. It was indeed a close call, and I felt a quiet sense of relief. Each day is a battle against a myriad of potential crises and the mental strain of dealing with them.
