SLAGINC II - feminism, fascism and fisting

About

So, Slaginc cannot give you any explanation '
ask the curator.

A meaning ' no meaning.
Turn from the private to the public and your no meaning becomes full of
meaning.
Walk around with a swastika in your room, now step outside into the
street. Noticed any difference?

The symbols you play with will taint you. Their dye will colour you.
You will be the gangster, the rapper, the woman. You will be the
singular revelation of all that is coded. But, remember, "not everybody
who wears a swastika is a Nazi". They just haven't come out of their
psychic closet. Wash all meaning away and you will be lost.

The glint from the symbol pinned to your coat will determine how you
are treated. With love or with hate; with lust or repugnance.
The eyes of others will see your image, never your unique self.
Personas are freely exchangeable, the icon lives on our breast and not
the chapel wall; appropriate at your leisure and at your peril.

Slaginc does not explain, instead we emotionalise and sexualise the
codes of your group. We warp the mirror and your once familiar
reflection spits back hysteria.
Slaginc asks, will you go down with your ship and rise up reborn as the
bitch stripped bare? The flicker of hesitation in your eyes betrays you
my child.
Come forth and enter Slaginc.