This work sits at the most intimate intersection of Lee's practice, where her mother's voice, Christian mythology, and the female body converge into something deeply unsettling and quietly liberating.

The Virgin Mary is perhaps the most impossible figure in Catholic womanhood: asked to be simultaneously pure and maternal, virginal and reproductive, obedient and chosen. Lee does not simply critique this contradiction, she inhabits it, performing it through her own body in a motel room, dressed as a bride.

In Christian theology, Mary conceived through her ear, the organ of pure reception, of obedience, of femininity without agency. The ear can only receive; it cannot generate. Lee takes this symbol and returns desire to it, rubbing ears against mirrors until they become productive, sexual, generative. The identical twin born from this act is both Mary's child and Lee's own double — a self-sufficient reproduction that needs no male origin.

What makes this piece so powerful is that it operates on two registers simultaneously: the mythological and the deeply personal. Behind the Virgin Mary is Lee's own mother, who told her daughter that women have no sexual desire, while urging her toward marriage and motherhood. The work holds both truths: the ancient myth and the kitchen table conversation, in the same body, the same gesture, the same mirror.