Wangechi Mutu’s collages confront with brutal aggression; her pastiched characters become perverse amalgamations of physical and cultural ‘ideals’. In Uterine Tumour, Mutu’s male figure is assembled of mismatched body parts clipped from magazines, each an isolated feature of epitomised beauty: chiselled cheekbones, kiss-me lips, petite ears, and smouldering eyes. Together, they become a grotesque mask of racial parody. Centred over a medical illustration, her composite of physical ‘perfection’ becomes a model of contamination.