Maybe I am seeing this the wrong way the artist saw it. But the more I stare at them this is the way it makes me feel.

Everything you say is true about motherhood, and the special connection mothers often share with their daughters. But in choosing to confine this series to ONLY those moments in a mother’s life when she is CLEARLY finding little joy in being in the company of her little girl, the message sent is extremely limiting and, quite frankly, somewhat pathetic.

If, in fact, it was Ms. Bory’s intent to deliver that very message—that single motherhood can occasionally be a total drag—then let’s judge the work accordingly. But holding this series up as some deeply moving statement about the beauty and complexities of the mother/daughter dynamic is giving it way more credit for empathy than it deserves.

Undeniably, without knowing the story behind a collection of worked curated by an artist, each person’s perception of art is formed through the context of their own lives and for that reason the internal story assigned to the image will be as individual as those who witness it.

Having said that, as a mother, I see the images not as being distant or remorseful, but more of the glimpses of the in-between moments of mothering.

When you are the mother of a single child there are no siblings to engage the child and as a result the focus rests solely between the two of you. Your days become a dance as you try and balance your child’s needs with their desires, the mundane chores of the day to day, the joyful moments, new experiences while holding on to who you are as a woman. It is you and them. It is beautiful, rewarding and difficult beyond words.

Sometimes your child will be tender and engaging, sometimes your child will exercise their will and push the limits of expectations, sometimes your child will want to withdraw and be beyond the point of consolation, sometimes your heart will fill with pride at something your child has created or when they are learning a new skill.

As each emotion and action transitions to another, we as mothers, take a moment to breathe. To inhale and bear witness to the moment. To hold onto it and give it its distinct signature so it does not blend with all the other moments in all the other days.

It is in these breaths that we see our children for who they are and realize what we, as women have grown into. I feel that it is these quiet moments that Ms. Bory pays homage to in her poetic series, Corrélation.

I get that this set was not intended to simulate a series of ads for Playskool toys, but Ms. Bory’s obvious longing in every shot to be either a) dead; or b) somewhere, anywhere else other than “here,” playing (single?) mother to a beautiful little girl, sucks all the life out of every scene. The work may be technically brilliant, but conceptually, its as fresh and life-affirming as a dead puppy.

A fitting title for Ms. Bory’s book would be “Young Mother Desperately Overwhelmed by the Demands of Raising a Daughter With Whom She Has Little or No Obvious Affection.”

Damn.