"The Empty Womb" – An Art Installation

Upon entering the gallery, visitors are immersed in an intimate and haunting atmosphere, with the view anchored by 27 large-scale sculptural pieces, each focused on the grief of female infertility and the emotional complexities surrounding in vitro fertilization. The space is adorned with an array of delicately crafted “baby blankets” and soft materials, juxtaposed with harder, clinical elements, reflecting the raw tension between natural motherhood and the industrialized process of fertility treatments.

The installation draws visitors into a deeply personal narrative, touching on the profound loss and resilience tied to the female body’s potential for creation. Each piece, ranging from crocheted blankets to woven symbols of care, speaks to the untold stories of women who have faced the heartache of infertility.

Critics have lauded Firestone’s work for its emotional depth and artistic innovation, with one critic dubbing her “the new Judy Chicago” for her unapologetic exploration of the female experience and her ability to elevate traditionally ‘feminine’ crafts into the realm of fine art. The installation, rich with symbolism and emotional resonance, creates a contemplative space for viewers to reflect on the universal themes of creation, loss, and the enduring hope for life.

Constructed from materials used in in vitro fertilization (IVF) alongside traditional women's crafts, this installation juxtaposes the industrial complexities of modern pharmaceuticals with the organic, feminine act of biological creation. By blending medical instruments with symbols of domesticity, the work invites viewers to reflect on the tension between science and nature, hope and loss, and the resilience required in the pursuit of motherhood. "The Fragility of Creation" is a poignant exploration of the deeply personal struggles of IVF and infertility, capturing both the industrial and intimate aspects of this transformative experience.

48'H x 36'W
Crocheted virgin wool, acrylic paint, embroidery, pregnancy tests

"Baby Blanket: 'But Your Paintings Are Your Babies'" captures the excruciating pain experienced by the 10% of women worldwide who face infertility, especially those who have undergone IVF repeatedly in the hopes of conceiving. The pregnancy tests, simultaneously feared and revered, symbolize the endless cycle of hope and despair. This piece confronts the well-meaning but insensitive remarks that seek to minimize the depth of an infertile woman’s grief, such as, "But your paintings are your babies."

The artist’s inner monologue rejects this: "NO, my paintings are NOT my babies! I can slice a knife through my canvas, and the world doesn’t care. A painting is not a baby!" The work expresses the frustration, societal rejection, deep grief, and even broken marriages that often follow in the wake of infertility. It challenges the idea that such profound loss can be comforted or replaced by anything other than the life that was so desperately longed for.

48"H x 36"W
Crocheted virgin wool, IVF syringes, embroidery

"Did Invitro Kill Your Marriage?" is a deeply riveting and poignant piece, with the question serving as a double entendre. Made from crocheted virgin wool, IVF syringes, and intricate embroidery, this work addresses the devastating impact of IVF on both physical and emotional levels. The artist was sent to critical care for four days due to undiagnosed Leiden Factor V, with IVF drugs promoting blood clotting, leading to DVTs and bilateral pulmonary embolisms. The blanket refers not only to the hormonal personality changes that can cause the breakdown of marriages but also to the physical dangers many women face—whether through suicide, drug interactions, or the collapse of relationships—during the relentless pursuit of motherhood through IVF.

48"H x 36"W
Mixed media: discarded bird nests, antique baby dolls, embroidery, virgin wool knitted

"The Empty Nest" is a poignant and symbolic work made from empty, discarded bird nests, antique baby dolls, intricate embroidery, and virgin wool knitting. Measuring 40"H x 30"W, this piece reflects the deep sorrow and sense of loss experienced by women struggling with infertility, evoking the image of a nest meant to cradle life but left empty. The fragile bird nests, intertwined with delicate handwork, represent the unfulfilled promise of motherhood, while the antique baby dolls symbolize the unattainable dreams of nurturing a child. Through this work, the artist weaves together themes of emptiness, longing, and grief, embodying the emotional void left by infertility.

"All My Hopes and Dreams Undone”
48"H x 36"W
Crocheted virgin wool, IVF prescription bottles, thousands of natural pearls.

This piece marries the seemingly endless array of IVF prescription bottles with thousands of natural pearls, each representing the countless prayers and dreams woven into the desire to create life. The use of crocheted virgin wool, a symbol of traditional women’s work, juxtaposes the clinical, industrial nature of fertility treatments with the organic hope for motherhood. The pearls, delicate yet enduring, embody the infinite longing and faith invested in the process of conceiving a child from my own body.

48"H x 36"W
Crocheted virgin wool, 1" x 1" alcohol swabs with blood, embroidery

"Are You Willing to Die for Your Heart's Desire?" is a visceral and haunting piece created from the thousands of one-inch alcohol swabs the artist used while injecting IVF drugs into her body, sometimes multiple times a day. Each swab is stained with the artist’s own blood, symbolizing both life and death, and representing the intense personal sacrifice of the fertility journey. The blood embodies the physical cost of IVF, highlighting the feeling that pursuing a baby can become a life-or-death venture. Crocheted virgin wool frames the swabs, juxtaposing softness with the raw reality of the process. The piece confronts the question: how much of ourselves are we willing to give, even at the risk of our own lives, to fulfill our deepest desires?

48"H x 36"W
Crocheted virgin wool, empty IVF syringe packaging, embroidery

In "Empty Promises," the artist weaves together the emotional and physical toll of infertility with striking symbolism. The crocheted virgin wool, soft and comforting, represents the nurturing nature of motherhood, while the empty IVF syringe packaging evokes the clinical, sterile process of fertility treatments. Each piece of discarded packaging speaks to the countless attempts, dashed hopes, and the emotional weight carried through the journey of in vitro fertilization.

Delicate embroidery threads its way through the composition, interweaving traditional female craft with the harsh realities of medical intervention. The intricate stitches reflect the artist’s deep yearning for creation, embodying both the tenderness and pain inherent in the pursuit of motherhood. "Empty Promises" becomes a poignant reflection on the intersection of hope, loss, and the complex emotional landscape of infertility.

48'H x 36'W
Photography on silk paper, embroidery, crochet, knitted virgin wool

In this deeply intimate piece, "She Was Never Gonna Make It Anyway," Robbi Firestone presents a photograph of her own embryos, printed on delicate silk paper. The 4'H x 3'W image reveals the fragile reality of the embryos, shown to be unhealthy, symbolizing not only the artist’s personal loss but the shared grief of many women facing infertility. The choice of silk paper reflects the vulnerability and delicacy of the emotional state experienced by those grappling with the heartache of IVF and infertility.

The photograph is bordered by a magnificent, hand-knitted frame made of virgin wool, representing legacy and lineage—the potential for future generations that, for the artist and many women like her, will never come to be. The soft, intricate crochet and wool work embody the traditional female craft of nurturing and continuity, yet stand in sharp contrast to the absence of life within the image they surround.

This poignant artwork encapsulates the fragility of hope, the emotional toll of infertility, and the profound sense of loss felt by those who long for creation. It serves as a visual representation of both the fight and the grief that infertility brings.

96"H x 36"W
Mixed media: chicken wire, deceased bird bodies, photography on silk paper, virgin wool, embroidery

"I Died with My Babies" is a haunting reflection of maternal struggle, loss, and the deep emotional trauma of infertility. The central visual element of the piece is constructed from chicken wire, interwoven with the fragile, deceased bodies of a mother bird and her baby. The artist discovered them trapped, the mother having struggled in vain to feed her child, only for both to perish. This poignant image serves as a metaphor for the relentless yet doomed battle that many women, including the artist, endure in their attempts to bring life into the world. It symbolizes not only the physical fight for fertility but also the emotional toll of loving and losing.

Surrounding this tragic scene are intimate photographs of the artist’s uterus, which her surgeon agreed to capture before its removal in an emergency hysterectomy. Printed on silk paper, these images add another layer of vulnerability, highlighting the artist’s irreversible loss of biological motherhood. The incorporation of virgin wool and delicate embroidery further intensifies the contrast between the softness of maternal desire and the harsh, unyielding realities of infertility.

The piece delves deeply into the artist’s feelings of profound grief and suicidal despair, stemming from the knowledge that her soul will never fully recover from the loss of her unborn children. The title, "I Died with My Babies," speaks to the emotional death the artist experienced as she relinquished her ability to give birth, a loss magnified by her own mother’s passing when she was just three years old. The work touches on the primal yearning to continue the lineage, to create life from one's own body—a desire that was tragically stolen from the artist.

This piece invites viewers to confront the dark, unspoken realities of infertility, the suffocating grief, and the quiet yet profound despair of those who will never carry the children they so desperately long for.

Parade Magazine describes Robbi Firestone's The Empty Womb art installation as a visceral fusion of medical and pharmaceutical paraphernalia from her personal in-vitro journey, intertwined with traditional women’s work such as crocheting, embroidery, fabric art, and lullabies. The installation captures the emotional and physical toll of infertility, juxtaposing sterile, industrial elements with the warmth of handcrafts. As Parade Magazine notes, "If art were emotion on canvas, Firestone's The Empty Womb installation is a ragged cry of pain and acceptance," reflecting the raw grief, resilience, and ultimate reckoning with the unfulfilled dreams of motherhood.

48"H x 36"W
Crocheted virgin wool, acrylic on paper, embroidery, baby dolls & toys, hand-sewn apron, stuffed animals

This evocative work captures the profound emotional duality of the artist's journey with infertility. A close-up painting of an ageless child’s face, divided into two sides: one half represents the infant the artist longed to bring into the world, an innocent dream never realized. The other half reflects the old soul, meant to pass through her body, connecting her to the timeless wisdom of motherhood. Surrounding the face, elements of crocheted wool, embroidered fabric, and cherished childhood toys create a poignant juxtaposition of tenderness and loss. The hand-sewn apron, a traditional symbol of nurturing, underscores the care and love that would never manifest through the artist's own physical motherhood.

"Golden Child That Never Was" invites viewers to reflect on the complex intersection of grief, hope, and the deep yearning for creation that often accompanies the experience of infertility.

"Golden Child That Never Was"
40"H x 30"W
Crocheted virgin wool, acrylic on paper, embroidery, baby dolls & toys, hand-sewn apron, stuffed animals

This evocative work captures the profound emotional duality of the artist's journey with infertility. A close-up painting of an ageless child’s face, divided into two sides: one half represents the infant the artist longed to bring into the world, an innocent dream never realized. The other half reflects the old soul, meant to pass through her body, connecting her to the timeless wisdom of motherhood. Surrounding the face, elements of crocheted wool, embroidered fabric, and cherished childhood toys create a poignant juxtaposition of tenderness and loss. The hand-sewn apron, a traditional symbol of nurturing, underscores the care and love that would never manifest through the artist's own physical motherhood.

"Golden Child That Never Was" invites viewers to reflect on the complex intersection of grief, hope, and the deep yearning for creation that often accompanies the experience of infertility.

40"H x 30"W

Crocheted virgin wool, 1" x 1" alcohol swabs with blood, embroidery

48"H x 36" W
Crocheted virgin wool, 1" x 1" alcohol swabs with blood, embroidery

96"H x 36"W
Mixed media: chicken wire, deceased bird bodies, photography on silk paper, virgin wool, embroidery

"I Died with My Babies" is a haunting reflection of maternal struggle, loss, and the deep emotional trauma of infertility. The central visual element of the piece is constructed from chicken wire, interwoven with the fragile, deceased bodies of a mother bird and her baby. The artist discovered them trapped, the mother having struggled in vain to feed her child, only for both to perish. This poignant image serves as a metaphor for the relentless yet doomed battle that many women, including the artist, endure in their attempts to bring life into the world. It symbolizes not only the physical fight for fertility but also the emotional toll of loving and losing.

Surrounding this tragic scene are intimate photographs of the artist’s uterus, which her surgeon agreed to capture before its removal in an emergency hysterectomy. Printed on silk paper, these images add another layer of vulnerability, highlighting the artist’s irreversible loss of biological motherhood. The incorporation of virgin wool and delicate embroidery further intensifies the contrast between the softness of maternal desire and the harsh, unyielding realities of infertility.

The piece delves deeply into the artist’s feelings of profound grief and suicidal despair, stemming from the knowledge that her soul will never fully recover from the loss of her unborn children. The title, "I Died with My Babies," speaks to the emotional death the artist experienced as she relinquished her ability to give birth, a loss magnified by her own mother’s passing when she was just three years old. The work touches on the primal yearning to continue the lineage, to create life from one's own body—a desire that was tragically stolen from the artist.

This piece invites viewers to confront the dark, unspoken realities of infertility, the suffocating grief, and the quiet yet profound despair of those who will never carry the children they so desperately long for.

96"H x 36"W
Mixed media: chicken wire, deceased bird bodies, photography on silk paper, virgin wool, embroidery

"I Died with My Babies" is a haunting reflection of maternal struggle, loss, and the deep emotional trauma of infertility. The central visual element of the piece is constructed from chicken wire, interwoven with the fragile, deceased bodies of a mother bird and her baby. The artist discovered them trapped, the mother having struggled in vain to feed her child, only for both to perish. This poignant image serves as a metaphor for the relentless yet doomed battle that many women, including the artist, endure in their attempts to bring life into the world. It symbolizes not only the physical fight for fertility but also the emotional toll of loving and losing.

Surrounding this tragic scene are intimate photographs of the artist’s uterus, which her surgeon agreed to capture before its removal in an emergency hysterectomy. Printed on silk paper, these images add another layer of vulnerability, highlighting the artist’s irreversible loss of biological motherhood. The incorporation of virgin wool and delicate embroidery further intensifies the contrast between the softness of maternal desire and the harsh, unyielding realities of infertility.

The piece delves deeply into the artist’s feelings of profound grief and suicidal despair, stemming from the knowledge that her soul will never fully recover from the loss of her unborn children. The title, "I Died with My Babies," speaks to the emotional death the artist experienced as she relinquished her ability to give birth, a loss magnified by her own mother’s passing when she was just three years old. The work touches on the primal yearning to continue the lineage, to create life from one's own body—a desire that was tragically stolen from the artist.

This piece invites viewers to confront the dark, unspoken realities of infertility, the suffocating grief, and the quiet yet profound despair of those who will never carry the children they so desperately long for.

96"H x 30"W
Mixed Media Painting, knitted virgin wool, embroidery

"Are You Creating Life or Causing a Death?" is a deeply evocative piece that captures the delicate and painful balance between life and death within the journey of infertility and fertility treatments. The painting features a nude woman, bleeding from her womb, falling from the sky, symbolizing the descent into despair, grief, and vulnerability. As she falls, a hand, rendered in the style of an East Indian goddess, reaches up to catch her, to support her from falling into the eternal darkness below. This hand, symbolic of divine intervention and feminine strength, rises to offer comfort and prevent her from sinking deeper into the emotional and physical abyss caused by infertility.

The painting symbolizes the often-overlooked reality that, in the quest for motherhood through IVF, the price of having a baby can sometimes be one's own life. The bleeding woman represents the excruciating pain, fragility, and profound vulnerability that women endure through the process. IVF is not just a process of creation, but also one of profound sacrifice, where survival itself feels threatened.

Knitted virgin wool frames the painting, providing a soft, nurturing contrast to the harsh, painful reality of the central image. Intricate embroidery weaves through the composition, symbolizing the delicate and fragile connections between life, fertility, and survival. The woman's falling body and the divine hand reaching upward reflect the desperate need for support in moments of overwhelming despair.

This piece poses a stark question: Are we creating life, or causing a death? It explores the duality of fertility treatments—where hope and trauma coexist, and the act of trying to create life can feel as if it’s costing one's own. The falling woman embodies the hidden suffering many endure, while the hand from below reflects the fragile hope and support that holds women back from the brink of emotional collapse.

Are You Creating Life or Causing a Death? challenges viewers to confront the harsh emotional and physical realities of infertility, while highlighting the strength, resilience, and divine support that so many women long for in their darkest moments.

30 feet wide x 7 feet high
Tryptich: welder’s frames, silk-printed photographs, embroidery, crocheted virgin wool, stuffed animals

"Home is Dead to Me Now: The Hysterectomy" is a large-scale, emotionally charged triptych that explores the artist’s devastating experience with infertility, IVF complications, and societal rejection. Spanning 30 feet in width and 7 feet in height, the piece is constructed from welder’s frames, silk-printed photographs, crocheted virgin wool, stuffed animals, and intricate embroidery, reflecting the harsh contrast between industrial and tender materials.

The first panel features a photograph of the artist’s body, showing fresh hysterectomy stitches and disposable hospital underwear—emphasizing the idea of being a "disposable woman" in a society that often measures a woman’s worth by her ability to bear children. Taken upon the artist’s return home from emergency surgery, the image speaks to the physical and emotional scars caused by infertility and the blood clots (DVTs) and bilateral pulmonary embolisms resulting from IVF injections and her undiagnosed Leiden Factor V.

The second panel presents a photograph of a destroyed trailer home the artist passed for years on her drives to visit her hometown. Located on a rural road outside Greenville, Missouri, the home, sitting in a field of soybeans, had been annihilated by a tornado. Oddly, the kitchen chairs were left outside, as though waiting for a family member to return—a poignant reminder of the shattered dream of family and motherhood. The abandoned home, once full of life, now stands as a metaphor for the artist’s destroyed sense of home, hope, and identity.

The third panel is the most graphic and harrowing of the triptych. It depicts the artist sitting on a toilet, her hysterectomy wound bleeding, with stark yellow tones surrounding her, reflecting the sickness and trauma that seem inescapable. Her gaze is deadened, locked into the camera lens in a moment of excruciating rawness. The artist insisted her husband take the photo, despite his objections: “No, you don’t want this photo,” he said. “I don’t care what you think. I need this photo,” she responded. This image captures the darkest depths of her despair, the death of the dream of biological motherhood, and the profound trauma that infertility and IVF brought to an abrupt and violent halt. The desire to become a mother was deeply rooted in the artist’s own childhood, having lost her mother to cancer when she was only three years old. Here, in this final photograph, the artist is contemplating her own suicide, a stark visual representation of how the pain of infertility can strip away hope, leaving only devastation.

This triptych, through its raw imagery and contrasting materials, encapsulates the destruction of the body, the home, and the spirit, evoking the physical, emotional, and psychological tolls of infertility and IVF.

30 feet wide x 7 feet high
Tryptich: welder’s frames, silk-printed photographs, embroidery, crocheted virgin wool, stuffed animals

"Home is Dead to Me Now: The Hysterectomy" is a large-scale, emotionally charged triptych that explores the artist’s devastating experience with infertility, IVF complications, and societal rejection. Spanning 30 feet in width and 7 feet in height, the piece is constructed from welder’s frames, silk-printed photographs, crocheted virgin wool, stuffed animals, and intricate embroidery, reflecting the harsh contrast between industrial and tender materials.

The first panel features a photograph of the artist’s body, showing fresh hysterectomy stitches and disposable hospital underwear—emphasizing the idea of being a "disposable woman" in a society that often measures a woman’s worth by her ability to bear children. Taken upon the artist’s return home from emergency surgery, the image speaks to the physical and emotional scars caused by infertility and the blood clots (DVTs) and bilateral pulmonary embolisms resulting from IVF injections and her undiagnosed Leiden Factor V.

The second panel presents a photograph of a destroyed trailer home the artist passed for years on her drives to visit her hometown. Located on a rural road outside Greenville, Missouri, the home, sitting in a field of soybeans, had been annihilated by a tornado. Oddly, the kitchen chairs were left outside, as though waiting for a family member to return—a poignant reminder of the shattered dream of family and motherhood. The abandoned home, once full of life, now stands as a metaphor for the artist’s destroyed sense of home, hope, and identity.

The third panel is the most graphic and harrowing of the triptych. It depicts the artist sitting on a toilet, her hysterectomy wound bleeding, with stark yellow tones surrounding her, reflecting the sickness and trauma that seem inescapable. Her gaze is deadened, locked into the camera lens in a moment of excruciating rawness. The artist insisted her husband take the photo, despite his objections: “No, you don’t want this photo,” he said. “I don’t care what you think. I need this photo,” she responded. This image captures the darkest depths of her despair, the death of the dream of biological motherhood, and the profound trauma that infertility and IVF brought to an abrupt and violent halt. The desire to become a mother was deeply rooted in the artist’s own childhood, having lost her mother to cancer when she was only three years old. Here, in this final photograph, the artist is contemplating her own suicide, a stark visual representation of how the pain of infertility can strip away hope, leaving only devastation.

This triptych, through its raw imagery and contrasting materials, encapsulates the destruction of the body, the home, and the spirit, evoking the physical, emotional, and psychological tolls of infertility and IVF.

30 feet wide x 7 feet high
Tryptich: welder’s frames, silk-printed photographs, embroidery, crocheted virgin wool, stuffed animals

"Home is Dead to Me Now: The Hysterectomy" is a large-scale, emotionally charged triptych that explores the artist’s devastating experience with infertility, IVF complications, and societal rejection. Spanning 30 feet in width and 7 feet in height, the piece is constructed from welder’s frames, silk-printed photographs, crocheted virgin wool, stuffed animals, and intricate embroidery, reflecting the harsh contrast between industrial and tender materials.

The first panel features a photograph of the artist’s body, showing fresh hysterectomy stitches and disposable hospital underwear—emphasizing the idea of being a "disposable woman" in a society that often measures a woman’s worth by her ability to bear children. Taken upon the artist’s return home from emergency surgery, the image speaks to the physical and emotional scars caused by infertility and the blood clots (DVTs) and bilateral pulmonary embolisms resulting from IVF injections and her undiagnosed Leiden Factor V.

The second panel presents a photograph of a destroyed trailer home the artist passed for years on her drives to visit her hometown. Located on a rural road outside Greenville, Missouri, the home, sitting in a field of soybeans, had been annihilated by a tornado. Oddly, the kitchen chairs were left outside, as though waiting for a family member to return—a poignant reminder of the shattered dream of family and motherhood. The abandoned home, once full of life, now stands as a metaphor for the artist’s destroyed sense of home, hope, and identity.

The third panel is the most graphic and harrowing of the triptych. It depicts the artist sitting on a toilet, her hysterectomy wound bleeding, with stark yellow tones surrounding her, reflecting the sickness and trauma that seem inescapable. Her gaze is deadened, locked into the camera lens in a moment of excruciating rawness. The artist insisted her husband take the photo, despite his objections: “No, you don’t want this photo,” he said. “I don’t care what you think. I need this photo,” she responded. This image captures the darkest depths of her despair, the death of the dream of biological motherhood, and the profound trauma that infertility and IVF brought to an abrupt and violent halt. The desire to become a mother was deeply rooted in the artist’s own childhood, having lost her mother to cancer when she was only three years old. Here, in this final photograph, the artist is contemplating her own suicide, a stark visual representation of how the pain of infertility can strip away hope, leaving only devastation.

This triptych, through its raw imagery and contrasting materials, encapsulates the destruction of the body, the home, and the spirit, evoking the physical, emotional, and psychological tolls of infertility and IVF.