During a recent visit to Hyllie in Malmö, I found an intriguing public art piece titled “Mother.” It’s a fountain sculpture, with water flowing from the mouth of the figure. The piece caught my eye immediately, but not in the way you might expect. Something unsettling about it made me pause and wonder what the artist’s intentions were.
I’m not entirely sure what the sculpture was meant to convey. Perhaps it symbolizes life, nurturing, or even human-nature relationships. But for me, there’s a certain discomfort in the figure’s expression. She doesn’t look well. She seems burdened, almost pained, and it evokes a feeling of dystopia—like she’s trapped in a world out of balance.
The more I looked at it, the more this sense of unease grew. The water, usually a symbol of life and purity, feels distorted here, gushing from the mouth in a way that almost suggests she’s overwhelmed or suffocated by her environment. Rather than peaceful or nurturing, her expression feels resigned, as though she’s a witness to something far beyond her control.
Inspired by this, I decided to photograph “Mother” and reimagine it through a dystopian lens. The sculpture already had that undertone for me, so enhancing those elements in the picture felt natural. I edited it to amplify the bleakness I felt in the moment—the muted tones, the shadows, the oppressive atmosphere. I wanted to capture the same feeling that hit me when I first saw her: a sense of despair and resignation in a world that has gone awry.
While I’m sure the artist had their interpretation, I couldn’t help but take it in a different direction. That’s the beauty of art. Everyone brings their perspective and their own emotions to the experience. For me, “Mother” spoke not of comfort but of a future we might want to avoid.
