“I have nothing to declare except my genius,” said Oscar Wilde to the customs agent.

SONY DSCSONY DSCSONY DSCSONY DSCFig leaves, designed to cover, but always accentuating, reference not just the monumentality of the sculptures to which they were meant to conform, but also the power made visible in the occupation of space and the expenditure of resources to render such figures. Phallic associations with power and genius are not easily critiqued without provoking essentialist accusations of envy. This rhetorical camouflage does not obscure that the nature of what is objectionably lacking is rooted elsewhere, namely in whose bodies and culture are obscured entirely from public veneration. Concurrently, the complex politics of exposure prompt recognition of the violence in defoliation. This is especially so at a moment in which “biological sex” is perverted to mean not the range of biological diversity in regards to a spectrum of sexual characteristics, but rather an immutable, “true” and binary classification that has the effect of an invasive cis-sexist kudzu. In such a moment, armor that is both affective and made of metal may be necessary. 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 fig 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.”

15 forms, each approximately 6″w x 8″h x 2″d