Did you think of yourself as a creative kid? What does creativity look like for you these days?
Because our histories inform everything we do, it’s worth starting by sharing that I grew up in a large, multigenerational immigrant household where survival was possible by focusing on needs not wants.
We didn’t have toys or art supplies but I did feel like I had a lot of creativity percolating inside of me. Whether it was drawing comic strips on the blank side of junk mail paper flyers, or dyeing yarn with beet juice during a Native American studies unit in third grade, I found tactile projects captivating.
My imagination also aimed high; I dreamt of being on stage and told my mom that I was going to be the first Asian Orphan Annie on Broadway. Of course, this was the 1970s—pre-Hamilton era—and suffice to say, being Asian was not an asset to my theater goals. It’s great to see the tides turning!
Now, creativity is the anchor for both work and pleasure, whether I am developing creative strategy and concepts for a client or decorating a cake. I left my career as a music and brain scientist in 2006 to forge an independent, creative career and I feel so lucky to be creative in some way, shape, or form every day.
How did motherhood change your creative practice?
It’s so interesting to think about shifts and discovery in creativity now that my kids are older—my daughters are 12 and 19.
I used to be a semi-professional violinist. After becoming a mom, the ability to practice even just to be part of a community orchestra—in addition to my full-time job as a postdoctoral fellow—went out the window. Back then it felt like a loss of something that had been part of my identity for so long. It fit the maternal sacrifice narrative.
But now when I look back, I realize that the transition was just an ending to a natural phase of a creative pursuit—and, notably, a door to discovery. Because of motherhood I started finding creative joy in new ways. I loved the science involved in baking and the creativity inherent in decorating so I started to delight in making cakes. I also developed a love for paper and design and created two design companies (one paper goods, one resistance apparel) since leaving academia. And of course, it was because of motherhood that I found my voice as a writer and podcaster—first through my parenting blog Boston Mamas, then through my book Minimalist Parenting, and then through the Edit Your Life podcast. Boston Mamas was my first digital property and seeing the response—-and that it was meeting a need for people—-was part of what gave me the courage to make a huge career leap and leave academia.
In a nutshell, it’s safe to say that motherhood changed pretty much everything about my life.
What do you do when you feel burnt out or filled with doubt?
The most healing and restorative practice for me is being in an expansive space where I can cast my gaze long. I never imagined this would be the case given that I grew up a city person and always identified as such, but my happy place now involves a mountain view. I hadn’t thought about it until I answered this question but I think there is something to the fact that I can feel power and beauty and peace in something that is so far away that there is no way I will reach it. It’s good for things to be massive and unattainable!
My city version of this is taking in art. I still feel grateful for the way art saved me after the 2016 election. I was devastated by the result and on Inauguration Day I didn’t want to be anywhere near a news broadcast or the internet. My friend Paige—who was in the same zone of distress and rage—and I decided to spend our day immersed in art at the beautiful Peabody Essex Museum in Salem, Massachusetts, followed by lunch—we avoided any eating establishment with a television! It was so nourishing.
How can we support and encourage each other more?
I would love for people to let go of the fear that there isn’t enough pizza; to let go of competition and embrace collaboration. I recently came up with the mantra, “You may be able to survive in a silo but you cannot thrive in one.” Some of my best creative work—and ideas for how to move forward when stuck—-have come through collaboration.
I also cannot emphasize enough the power of using your voice to support and encourage others. I have often had friends, colleagues, and clients say that I am the best hype person because whenever I introduce people I explain why I think each person is amazing and why I think they should meet. It’s just how I roll. And then last year, I had a moment where I realized that I didn’t want to just tell people how I see them when I’m brokering an introduction. And I also love quick touch points as a way to nurture my friendships. So now, whether it’s because someone has simply been on my mind, or I saw them do something cool, or I know they are going through a tough time, or they are silent and I wonder if they are OK, I text and tell them why I am thinking of them, and that I am grateful they exist—no asks or expectations, just love. I can’t recall how many times I have done this in the last year, but I can say that 100% of the time people are touched and surprised to hear that someone is thinking of them.
We need to use our voices more. We should strive to be one another’s creative fuel.
What do you hope your kids will learn about creativity from you?
When my oldest daughter was a preschooler there was a moment when she was working on a painting project at home and I squirted out these enormous blobs of paint onto a paper plate and was like, “Let it rip!” My husband—who didn’t grow up with the level of scarcity I did but was always taught to conserve—was like, “Whoa, wait? Can we use this much paint?” It has since become a funny, telling example of how as a mom I have wanted my kids to feel abundance in their creative exploration. Don’t get me wrong, I was grateful to get the blank sides of those junk mail flyers to do my drawings, but it was really hard to grow up so constrained, always longing for things I didn’t have.
I have also always encouraged my kids to reframe creative “mistakes” to creative opportunities. My kids occasionally get to witness me modeling this reframe in real time because when I am making a fancy cake—which I only do recreationally and for special occasions because OMG don’t even get me started about disrupting everything-must-be-a-side-hustle culture—I invariably come to a creative crossroads because I don’t map things out from the start.
One time I was working on a cake and the creative vision was not coming together. I uttered some kind of frustration and my youngest, who was maybe 5 at the time, said something like, “Remember, Mom. No mistakes! Whatever you create will be beautiful.” I loved that moment so much. Life is humbling!
If there was a movie version of your life, who would you like to play you and what story do you want her to tell?
Well, I have been told on more than one occasion that I look like Sandra Oh even though I look nothing like her, but I do think she is a phenomenal actress and she is Korean so let’s say Sandra Oh.
I grew up with a lot of adversity—my adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) score is high. Over the past five years in particular I have learned a lot about the mitigation of ACEs—which, by the way, for me involved a connection to something creative. Music, as well as some seriously amazing trusted adults, saved me from falling off a cliff. I also have devoted a considerable amount of self-practice and experimentation to the power of micro—small acts of change, small levers to find joy in hard times, small moments of meaning you can connect with every day.
So, I think the story I would want Sandra to tell is about thriving following adversity; about how tiny moments of connection—to joy, to humans who care, to your true calling—change everything.
If you could give everyone a small treat, what would it be?
If we are being literal, I would say, a brownie, packaged up adorably in a cellophane sleeve with a ribbon and a funny message. Decades ago, I had a subscription to Bon Appetit and clipped a recipe for brownies. I can’t count how many times I have made this recipe but whenever I walk into a gathering with a covered plate, people always are like, “OMG did you bring The Brownies?” It’s my go-to baked good that always makes people smile.
But if we’re talking more abstractly, I would give the gift of 20 minutes of calm brain space to simply rest without worrying about the next thing to do or if someone is judging you for being still. I have learned so much about the beauty of downshifting and resting since last summer and I am grateful—at age 50—to finally get it.
Christine Koh is a music and brain scientist turned award-winning author, podcaster, speaker, designer, and creative director. Her work is oriented around her passions for storytelling and problem solving, while also encouraging reflection, growth, and disruption. Christine’s life is made rich thanks to her husband Jonathan, daughters Laurel (19) and Violet (12), and standard poodle James (3.75). Find her at the links below.
Website: christinekoh.com
Podcast: edityourlifeshow.com
Instagram: instagram.com/drchristinekoh
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Love this post. I became more creative when my kids were small because I was a stay-at-home mom and simply had more time to be creative. I would set my kids up at the kitchen table with paints and different craft projects and we'd have fun together. I used to tell them "there's no wrong answers in art - it isn't math." I wanted them to have the freedom to have fun and not worry that it was "good enough". I didn't have time to focus on my writing career until I was an empty nester. I needed more quiet than I could get when my kids were home. Do I wish I had started earlier? No, I try not to look back and second guess. That would kill creativity for me.
This is amazing. Sometimes I look at kids and they’re the freest most creative beings-and then as the world closes in they close a bit off. And then we have to learn it all over again as adults.