That's the thing to know about Louise Bourgeois, more than anything else, is her own immediate reality and her own emotional landscape that is always the subject of her work.
People are always accusing her and wanting to know why she's obsessed with sexual parts. She refuses to even admit that these things are directly representational, and they aren't, really, in a sense. They're suggestive of lots of different organic shapes and natural forms.
It's just such a wonderfully jarring contrast.
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