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’s 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 up of lobules where milk is made, which connect 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 pleasure and arousal. MAGIC.

Our breasts can also be a seductive invitation; a symbol of feminine pride, sensuality and dare I say, power? For others, 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 size to meet our needs and desires; tiny breasts can be made larger, while larger 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, old age.

Our bosom can be a haven for our children: a warm, soft place for them to nap, snuggle, shed their tears, 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 and milk might also 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 pain?

For me, using the breast as a subject matter in my art is a meditation on self-acceptance, womanhood and motherhood while also being an exploration in the language of color and materiality. These playful, crocheted boobs are small, but they make a bold statement in their declaration of feminine strength and beauty.