THE BREAST
The shape of every breast is unique. Like a snowflake, no two are exactly alike, even on the same body. While the bra industry has attempted to categorize them into cup sizes, that is merely a way to determine the needed amount of fabric and hardware, not a summation of the infinite individualities of the breast itself.
Biologically, this special organ was designed for a singular purpose: the production of milk for lactation. Its tissue being made of lobules where milk is made and connects to ducts that lead out to the nipple. A perfectly designed feeding station to sustain new life. Speaking of the nipple – that wonderful little nob has its own superpower as it releases oxytocin and when stimulated during labor, helps initiate contractions as well as being a direct connection to sexual arousal and pleasure. MAGIC.
Our breasts can also be a seductive invitation; a symbol of feminine sensuality, pride and even power. For others they can be a constant reminder of discomfort, a physical presence which does not align with one’s gender identity. A study in contrasts depending on which human they are attached to. We can surgically alter their sizes to meet our needs and desires. Tiny breasts can be made larger, while large ones can be reduced.
Breasts are commodified by corporations, used to sell everything from beer and chicken wings to perfume and lingerie. They go through so many changes and cycles throughout our lives as our hormones fluctuate during the many stages of womanhood: puberty, pregnancy, lactation, menopause and old age. Our bosom can be a haven for our children; a warm, soft place for them to nap, snuggle, shed their tears and feel the pulsing beat of their mother’s heart nestled beneath her flesh.
Then there is the omnipresent risk of developing cancer in those special ducts, glands and tissue. The same breasts that can nourish a newborn with nutrient rich colostrum may also one day be infected with cancerous cells, at times causing for their removal and sadly, all too often, ending the life of their precious host. To thwart these tiny terrorists, we are encouraged to massage our breasts, prodding and exploring our flesh for any inconsistencies or lumps. We make yearly trips to doctors’ offices to have our breasts pulled and compressed between cold metal plates (akin to medieval torture devices) holding our breath for the x-ray imaging. Is there any other human organ that can elicit such pleasure and yet be the cause of so much suffering?
Using the breast as a subject in my art is a meditation on the sacredness of womanhood and motherhood, an ongoing journey of self-acceptance as I traverse these stages with reverence. I use a variety of mediums to express this appreciation and to highlight the unique characteristics and stories nestled within our breasts.