Liz Magor

Messenger

In response, the cabin contains all the necessities for survival in a world construed as hazardous and full of the nefarious, obfuscating intentions of others. Ammunition boxes share storage space with basic supplies such as flour and sugar. A battle axe from the brave hearts of Scotland, pineapple hand grenades, a Teutonic sallet with full visor, camouflage uniforms from the Vietnam War, helmets, medieval gauntlets, studded arm braces, and a computer have been assembled by the cabin’s absent inhabitant. Travelling in reverse, in a humour of hostility and distrust, this new outsider careens through the faux towns of museums and movie sets, pilfering a pan-historical arsenal of personal protection. Though packed into one room, his stock pile doesn’t cleave to one time line but is held together in a warp of warrior culture. We go along with this hyperbole as a true-to-life fiction, agreeing that what we see is simultaneously impossible and hyper-real. Besides, we are predisposed to accept this knot of anachronisms because the old cabin has already begun the collapse of time and space.

Wood, plaster, textile, found objects
305 × 305 × 427 cm