Maternity emerges for me as a reflection on the primal bond between mother and child — a relationship that begins before form, before language, and even before consciousness. I don’t approach it as an idealized image, but as a living emotional field shaped by instinct, dependency, and the silent exchange of care. Within this connection, tenderness coexists with tension; love is never singular, but layered with vulnerability, fear, and an unspoken responsibility toward another life.
I see maternity not as a fixed moment, but as a continuous state of becoming. It is a condition in which identity is constantly reshaped through attachment — where the presence of the other transforms the self, creating a space where individuality and unity overlap. The maternal figure becomes both shelter and threshold, a point where protection and exposure exist at the same time.
Rather than narrating a specific story, the work holds an emotional state. It reflects a fragile balance between giving and losing, between nurturing and transformation. For me, maternity is not only about origin, but about change — an ongoing process where care creates both connection and complexity.
