He administers fragments whose charm lies in their lack of function, in the kitsch of the parable of the lonely cogwheel as the human being without relationships. As much as Just Merrit loves the aesthetic of the collective, the work with his body, with his senses, means the cancellation of this aesthetic. He himself is the collective, and the collective that actually exists is a collection of autists. The symbols and signs of modernism no longer possess in his assemblage an incisive political truth. His comprehension through imitation succeeds as a result of his understanding of the falseness of the gestures and rituals of commerce.
Fragments are the catalysts of memory, they apply to everyone, even if no memory resembles another.
Contained, though, also signifies autonomy. At first glance, the containers might seem like mobile homes without wheels, stranded in some corner of the world. If Contained is an adventure in the style of Robinson Crusoe, then Robinson is Friday too. You will not be able to drive anyway, to the next host or the next epoch, even if they are stupid enough to build a highway. For all those who can not achieve emancipation and autonomy, pull into the truck stop and relax.