“I have nothing to declare except my genius,” said Oscar Wilde to the customs agent.
The affective shield of the title’s camp pomposity romanticizes material lack while asserting what Wilde claimed as his natural intellectual primacy. That the anecdote that contextualizes this quote is sited at a policed border resonates as much conceptually as it does bureaucratically. This series of bronze leaves are, in the tradition of the boy band, exhibited in groups varying in number, and occasionally singularly in a breakout role. Consider the work a dick joke in the style of Margaret Atwood’s classic zinger: “Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them.”