Aliza Sir: Crawling Out of Your Shell

Did you think of yourself as a creative kid? 

When I was young, I loved any activity that involved crafting or creating. My parents would bring my sister and me to museums, and I’d carry a small notebook so I could sketch my favorite pieces (like Degas’ dancers). There’s also a hilarious photo from the time my sister and I were around five and seven, and I used her naked body as my canvas. (I’m not going to share that one here.)

For several years, every birthday was at a spot in Nashville called the “Creative Fitness Center.” We became close with the young woman who ran the business out of her home — and then, at some point she got married, had kids, and moved away. 

At the time, I couldn’t understand why she would close the business. Whether sculpting clay beads or creating a collage with strips of paper and watercolors, I discovered that I could easily immerse myself in a creative project for hours — and it required an enormous force to pull me out of my trance.  

Crafting of some sort in my family’s Purim sukkah; circa 1994ish 

What does creativity look like for you these days?

It’s often small practices that I don’t necessarily realize. Like today specifically, I started sketching a design for my son’s first birthday party invitation. We’re just having a few close family and friends in my parents’ backyard — so I was going to send a PaperlessPost, but I realized a hand-drawn invite would be more fun and fulfilling.

My dog is probably grateful that I’ll refocus some of my creative energy away from him now too — although he’s not completely off the hook either (see below). 

It wasn’t until high school and college that I started to second guess whether I could claim I was “creative.” I’d make comments like, “I’ve always liked to draw/write/dance, but I’m not very creative.” 

From the outside, my professional path (1) doesn’t look like someone who ever considered themselves creative either (2). Maybe it’s just age, or maybe it’s becoming a mom — but fortunately, I feel like I’m starting to crawl out of my shell and reclaim my creative curiosity again. Last year while I was pregnant, I picked up oil painting classes. This year, Aja and I launched our newsletter. This is the first time that I’ve had a creative partner, and she’s been a huge motivator and supporter. 

Welcome to the first Mothers Who Make interview with footnotes! 1) I work in partnerships at a technology startup. 2) I found this letter in @ Alexandra Hayes Robinson’s Hello Hayes column deeply relatable.

A few years ago, Oliver had the (dis)pleasure of being dressed up as Eleven from Stranger Things

How did motherhood change your creative practice?

I’ve been a mom for about 11 months. Already, motherhood has forced me to think more critically and better prioritize everything in my life. Nothing will make you question “Does this really matter to me?” like becoming a mom. 

I don’t think it’s too surprising that I’ve found the creative outlet of writing the newsletter platonic love with my friend Aja just a few months after Jude was born. 

Of course, Jude’s not old enough to appreciate creative projects and artwork yet himself — and maybe he never will — but I’m looking forward to the day when I can start presenting him with that “option.” 

Taking my son on one of his first visits to a museum (Institute of Contemporary Art in Boston) 

When do you feel most creative?

I feel most inspired when immersing myself in the world of other creators — it’s why I love reading memoirs and consistently seek out new exhibits, performances, and shows. In a few weeks, my aunt and I are driving out to Western Mass for a performance at Jacob’s Pillow, a summer dance festival in a stunning outdoor setting. It was founded in 1931. 

But these moments — surrounded by people who are so talented they’ve been able to make their art a living — can also feel stifling, especially if I let myself get too in my head. I work at a tech company, and while I find my work incredibly fulfilling, it was more difficult to infuse creativity into my daily practice before I started this Substack. 

I feel most creative when I can be the least critical of myself. Usually that’s early mornings and/or late nights, laptop closed and phone shut away in another room, music playing, and fresh air. Fresh air is a magical drug. 

Who would you love to collaborate with? What’s a dream project for you?

My grandmother. I told her I wanted to interview her for platonic love and she said, “Why???” Hopefully I can convince her one day. 

I think two of the greatest memoirs of all time are Hold Still by Sally Mann and The Yellow House by Sarah M. Broom. They both go deeper than the individual — breaking below the surface to their broader family origin story. One of my long term creative goals (3) is to use a mix of different mediums (photography, writing, drawing, etc.) to create this type of unique record and tell my own family’s story.  

What would you bring to a favorites party?

My sister and my best friend! 

 3) I mean, very long term. I’m not sure I’ll have time for this type of creative endeavor until Jude’s away at college.  

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Aliza Sir is the co-founder of platonic love, a Substack newsletter where two friends let you in on their conversations — from motherhood and friendship to their weekly obsessions and hot takes. Aliza grew up in Nashville and now is based in Cambridge, Massachusetts, where she lives with her husband Sam and 11-month-old son Jude.

Aliza’s writing centers on “matrescence,” a term meaning the developmental process of becoming a mother, and that, despite being coined in the 1970s, still isn’t recognized by Google dictionary (!!). Some of her recent stories are about pumping while flying and making friends in adulthood.

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Hi! I’m Heidi. Writer. Editor. Mother. I’m interviewing 100 creative mothers, because I believe the more we see other mothers making beauty and meaning in small moments, the more we will be inspired to make our own kind of art, whatever that may look like during this intense season of life. Support the project by sharing with a friend.