The breasts are of crucial significance.
As an infant my mother’s breast (or breasts) was / were me.
They were not separate from me.
The transitional object.
When I was away from the breast I plucked wool from my blanket and caressed my lips with it.
This same wool plucked from my blanket was my first brush.
I am still using brushes, soft more often than not, of late; and fingers, and rags.
And I caress the canvas.
And I choose an appropriate subject.
I am creating a world of art.
[For more information see: D. W. Winnicott, ‘Playing and Reality’]