To name a sensibility, to draw its contours and to recount its history, requires a deep sympathy, modified by revulsion.

I remember seeing one of those funny little dioramas by fetishist modelmakers, with a little humpback bridge, with a little stream of fresh water running through and a little boy fishing, and over the bridge is a little unit of Panzers and soldiers … the interesting thing is when you look at these dioramas they're always SS, they're always the worst of the worst, they're always the hyper-Nazis – they're never the enlisted, well-intentioned German who couldn't help himself – it's always the ideological fascist, the ones who are after genes, they're annihilating genes rather than people – but there's one little thing that says ‘life goes on’. So the kind of displacement in this little diorama is this little boy fishing, having your Nazi cake and eating it. But in actual fact, the Nazi-ness of the work is also a red herring.