Less than five years after graduating from Black Mountain College, in North Carolina, Ruth Asawa's industrial-wire sculptures were getting notice in the national press, though invariably her pieces were dismissed as women's craft work, as opposed to art. These are "domestic sculptures in a feminine, handiwork mode," ArtNews said in 1956. Such critiques masked her relentless subversiveness. Such critiques masked her relentless subversiveness.... 

One of her favorite photos was taken by Imogen Cunningham, a photographer and a friend: Asawa's naked 1-year-old drinks from a bottle, an older sibling draws, Asawa crochets wire and her giant sculptures envelop all. "It was always just a part of our life to just see her always working," her daughter Aiko recalled recently. "And if we really wanted to talk to her, we got one of the dowels, and we'd start coiling wire for her, so that we'd be helping her and having a conversation with her." The distinction between domestic and nondomestic art would have made no sense to Asawa. "Art is doing," she wrote. "Art deals directly with life."

New York Times

Ruth Asawa was a wonderful artist, who created beautiful sculptures out of wire. I never realized that her family life was an integral part of her life. While reading about her, I found that her domestic face was something that was taken against her, that somehow her work was less profound because of it. I hope times have changed that this portrayal as a mother does not deter one's legitimacy as an artist.

“Amy ran at life full speed and heart first,” Maria Modugno, her editor at Random House, said in a phone interview. “Her writing was who she was.” 

She started writing ad copy after graduating from Tufts University in 1987. After nine years at Foote, Cone & Belding (now FCB), Ms. Rosenthal was on maternity leave with her two toddler sons and infant daughter at McDonald’s when she experienced what she called a “McEpiphany,” deciding to become an author. 

What she described as her plastic fork in the road led to countless dead ends, however, until she published “Little Pea,” about a pod denied his favorite dessert (spinach) until he finished all his candy (which he detested). The book received favorable reviews, and her course was set. Her other books included “Spoon,” “Duck! Rabbit!” and “Little Oink.”

New York Times 

I've only recently come across Rosenthal and her work, ironically, because of her passing. From the sampling I've read, she's one that spreads inspiration, even with three children in tow. Based on her obituary, even after her diagnosis, she still managed to produce seven more books.

Her favorite line from literature was in Thornton Wilder's "Our Town," when Emily bids the world goodbye. She says, “Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?”

Fact is, we can't be fully at home and fully at work at the same time -- not if work is in a distant office tower and not even if work is in the next room. Work and life don't overlap so much as they collide or intersect, leaving us to sit in our ergonomically correct swivel chairs and pivot between the two. And each time we turn toward one, we are, in that moment, turning away from the other.

Lisa Belkin, New York Times

Belkin can often be found writing about the challenges of parenthood while juggling work. I found this one article to be a helpful metaphor when thinking about parenthood at home. In it, Belkin talks about working from home not really being the rosy solution it is usually imagined to be. Despite the proximity to one's children, one still has to set boundaries because of work. That's a tough one to manage, especially when your kids can see you physically present, but perhaps mentally absent while with them. 

Back in the day, when my kids were little and I lived in the country and I was an unknown novelist, I had a schedule so regular that it was practically Pavlovian, and I loved it. The school bus came, I started to write. The school bus returned, I stopped.

Francine Prose, Daily Rituals: How Artists Work 

One notes that Prose's strategy works with children that are old enough to go to school. I wonder how she dealt with the earlier stages in their lives.

...the important thing is that I don't do anything else. I avoid the social life normally associated with publishing. I don't go to the cocktail parties, I don't give or go to dinner parties. I need that time int he evening because I can do a tremendous amount of work then. And I can concentrate. When I sit down to write, I never brood. I have so many other things to do, with my children and teaching, that I can't afford it.

Toni Morrison, Daily Rituals: How Artists Work 

Nobel Prize- and Pulitzer Prize-winning American novelist, Toni Morrison has an impressive body of work, but she was equally amazing when it comes to managing her time. She was an editor at Random House, a teacher of literature, and raised her two sons single-handedly. She did it by writing every chance she got and even sacrificing her social life. Morrison's example points to the stark simplicity and focus needed to juggle both parenthood and a constant creative output. 

There's such a struggle going on in me! And a miserable longing for someone who thinks OF ME, who helps me to find MYSELF! I've sunk the level of a housekeeper!

Alma Mahler, Daily Rituals 

Gustav Mahler is a well-known composer and conductor. His work is performed by orchestras around the world and his wife helped make that possible. Alma made sure no sound would disturb Mahler in his working hours. She would stop playing the piano. She shushed up neighbors with promises of opera tickets, so they would keep their dogs indoors. She would accompany the composer on long walks by the shore. Before marrying Mahler, however, Alma was a composer in her own right. 

According to Currey, Mahler made her give up composition because "there could only be one composer in the family." This is no model for creative partnership at all, but I write it down to show that situations like this happen and I'm sure we'd all rather avoid it.

She did not begin writing until the age of fifty-three, and then only because she desperately needed money to support her six children and ailing husband. In order to squeeze the necessary writing time out of the day while still acting as the primary caregiver to her family, Mrs. Trollope sat down at her desk each day at 4:00 a.m. and completed her writing in time to serve breakfast.

Mason Currey, Daily Rituals: How Artists Work

Though Frances Trollope didn't start writing until late in life, by the time she passed away at aged 84, she had 40 books under her belt. With a work ethic like this, it is no wonder. If one needs to get work done, one finds the time is the lesson Trollope imparts. Other duties aren't excuses. 

Trollope's example was followed by her son, Anthony, who penned 47 novels and 16 other books using the same practice. Anthony woke up at 5:30 am every morning and worked for three hours straight. Until he had to start his duties at the General Post Office. He writes in his Autobiography, "...three hours a day will produce as much as a man out to write. But then, he should have trained himself that he shall be able to work continuously during those three hours,--do have tutored his mind that it shall not be necessary for him to sit nibbling his pen, and gazing at the wall before him." Would the same logic work on new parents spending time with their children, I wonder?