The statue, which immediately brings to mind the thinness of Giacometti, the roundness of Moore and the cheekiness of Hirst, asks the question, what lies at the intersection between on-going self-awareness and mere physical death? It’s in the exploration of this liminal space that the artist conveys the notion that both permanence and space are mere temporal constructs that may or may not be swaddled in purpose, and may or may not have consciousness. In essence, does the Emperor have, or have not, clothes? Or as the Christmas Tree might have it - am I, or am I not, dressed? Or as Magritte himself might have said: "This is a Christmas tree. N'est ce pas?"