The Return of The Vulva Art Project

A Celebration of Womanhood, Then and Now

What is The Vulva Art Project

The Vulva Art Project. There’s a good chance you may have heard of it. Back in 2018, it was a bold and deeply personal photography project based in Portland, Oregon. It garnered quite a bit of press—and, not surprisingly, its fair share of controversy.

I was the creator behind the project. At the time, I was just stepping into the world of boudoir photography and noticing a recurring theme: many women carried a quiet shame or a profound disconnect from their bodies—particularly their vulvas.

I found myself longing to create something more than just beautiful portraits. I craved a project that felt soul-stirring and emotionally meaningful. The idea came to me—to photograph women’s vulvas in a raw, respectful, and artful way. To give visibility and reverence to a part of us so often hidden, misunderstood, or judged.

Honestly, I didn’t expect anyone to say yes. I softly floated the idea within my network, and to my surprise, the response was overwhelmingly positive. Word spread like wildfire, woman to woman. I had hoped for maybe ten participants—48 women ended up saying yes.

The project quickly became something far greater and more impactful than I ever could’ve imagined. I was committed to making it an experience that was emotionally safe and fulfilling for every woman involved—not just a quick photo and goodbye.

So we gathered in small groups over a series of weeks. Each session felt like a sacred circle—we shared food, drinks, and conversation. When it was time, I brought each woman behind a curtain I had set up in the studio. I offered her a moment of warmth and reassurance before asking her to gently open her legs. I didn’t pose or direct—I simply photographed her exactly as she was, as her body revealed itself to me. 

As the project evolved, I knew these powerful portraits needed to be seen. Every woman gave full, informed consent and signed a model release. I decided to organize a one-night-only art show in downtown Portland—an evening that would also serve as the first time any of the participants would see their image, or the full collection.

I found a beautiful space that could hold 150 guests—never thinking we’d fill it. But within two weeks, every ticket was sold. I was stunned.

I printed the photographs onto four large panels—each 3ft x 4ft—each panel holding 12 vulva portraits, roughly 8×10 inches each. The diversity of color, shape, and form was breathtaking when seen together.

Before the public reveal, I hosted a private showing for the women of the project. The emotions in that room were palpable—there was laughter, tears, silence, joy, even anger. I didn’t need to know the reason behind each reaction. What mattered was that it moved something in them.

When the curtain dropped that night for the public, I can still hear the sound: first a hush of shock, then the roar of applause. It was electric. We were all changed.

As women, many of us have quietly wondered, “Do I look normal down there?” There’s a natural curiosity—an urge to know if others look like us, to feel less alone in our uniqueness. But for so many, they’ve never even truly seen their own vulva, let alone anyone else’s.

Now imagine this: in one moment, you see an intimate, raw display of your own vulva alongside 47 others. The emotional weight of that reveal was unforgettable. I heard women say they had spent years believing theirs looked “wrong” or “abnormal”—only to realize, in that instant, that they weren’t alone. They were simply one beautiful variation in a stunning spectrum of what’s normal.

In the weeks that followed, the response was global. Emails poured in from all over the world. A YouTube video featuring the project reached over a million views! The project shaped me in ways I’m still discovering. I had grand dreams for where it might go—but for many reasons, after that night, I quietly closed that chapter.

What’s Changed

Over the last few years, the project has never really left my mind. Since then, I’ve had a powerful VBAC experience, recommitted myself to both birth and boudoir photography, and stepped into the next chapter of my journey—training to become a birth doula with a special passion for VBAC support.

With every birth I witness and every story I hear, my reverence for women’s bodies only deepens. There is something so sacred about holding space for someone in their most raw and powerful moments—and now, after my own VBAC, I truly feel it in my bones.

I’ve also had time to reflect on some of the harder parts of the original project. Many of the women who participated brought with them layers of trauma—some deeply personal, including sexual trauma. For some, that surfaced as anger, and I became the person that anger landed on. At the time, I didn’t understand why. But with distance, healing, and deeper self-work, I do now.

And I hold space for that, too.

Why Am I Writing About It Now

We live in a society that encourages women to disconnect from their bodies—especially in the birth space. We’re taught that pain is something to fear, that birth is a condition to be managed, and that our postpartum bodies are something to fix or hide. Some women are left feeling like their bodies are broken, ugly, or “not normal.” And that breaks my heart.

But here’s what I know to be true: women’s bodies are nothing short of magic.

When I gave birth to my VBAC baby, I experienced a kind of primal power I didn’t even know I had. I surrendered completely. My oblique muscles took over with a fierce wisdom, I roared like a mama lion, and my body pushed my baby into the world. How can that not be honored? How can that not be celebrated?

I’m now almost two years out from that birth, and no—my body isn’t “back.” I’m still 30 pounds heavier, and my boobs? I’m still getting to know them again. But I don’t see any of that as ugly. Because what my body did was extraordinary.

This is why The Vulva Art Project still matters.

It’s a continuation of the same truth: our bodies are powerful, worthy, and sacred—just as they are.

What’s Coming Next

Now, seven years later, I feel ready to reintroduce this project—with more intention, more softness, and more wisdom.

I don’t know exactly what the future holds in terms of new participants or imagery, but I do know this: the conversation must continue. The need for visibility, healing, and connection hasn’t faded. If anything, it feels more necessary than ever.

Closing Thoughts

The Vulva Art Project was never just about art—it was about visibility, reclamation, and honoring the wild, wondrous terrain of womanhood. It still is.

This work isn’t always easy. But it’s worth it. Because when women are seen, heard, and held—we remember who we really are.

And that is powerful beyond measure.

For the first time ever, I am sharing the images on the internet. I have been incredibly protective of them but now it’s time to reveal them again.

I would love to hear your thoughts or comments and if this is something you would feel called to do.

Arkady

Youtube video about the project