“M.I.Q” interrogates the architecture of control disguised as care. The rusted motel sign—once a symbol of freedom and movement—becomes a relic of confinement, advertising a sterile promise: virtual lobbies, tests, vouchers, and no vacancy for humanity. 

During New Zealand’s MIQ era, isolation was sold as safety, yet it fractured mental health, severed families, and commodified return. 

This work reimagines that bureaucratic theatre as a decaying roadside attraction, where the cost of entry was autonomy and the exit was uncertainty.