On mother love: Frances Tulk-Hart
I was lucky enough to grow up with a mother who loved me more than life itself, more than the breath she, often very patiently, breathed. It was a love I took for granted, a love I reciprocated all through my childhood and alas a love I often abused upon entering those dark, moody teenage years.
It was not however until I became a mother myself that I truly understood the depth and power of a “mother’s love”. And it certainly did not appear in a blaze of lightning bolts and angels singing! I am a late thirty something photographer living in NYC. It goes without saying that I am ambitious, selfish and ego driven and I was not, it seemed, going to surrender to motherhood, and all the life changes that went along with it, easily. So it had to wait, watching in the sidelines, the painful chaotic fight, a violent and passionate tango between, my ego and love, the old world and the new way, until one day without me even realizing it my life had become Dotti’s and a love of such big bang proportions, the infamous “mother’s love”, had finally taken her spot at the centre stage of my life.
Words & image by Frances Tulk-Hart.