Over many years researching popular images in the nineteenth-century press I noticed a persistent interest in images (produced by male artists) of crocodiles or alligators attacking women. A contemporary press report in Australia prompted this exhibition to directly confront this phenomenon, by perhaps too blatantly, amplifying the source of this male interest in formulating hapless female victims for crocodilian engagement. I went back to the sort of imagery I had created in my days of triumph over embarrassment working on the Gold Coast in Queensland. Irony has a relatively short shelf-life and consequently from around 2000 I removed this show from my CV. I am now, in 2025, only slightly uncomfortable with owning it, having matured enough to understand that seriousness of intent can result in the most deadening art and matching motivation with serious method guarantees that outcome.