Inside the lawless and playful Fire Eye Land
Turn off an unremarkable residential road somewhere in the stomach of Margate, Kent, and there’s a path bumpy with broken rocks that leads to a looming brick shed. On the outside, written in white capital letters: Fire Eye Land. The narrow alley that leads to the building’s side door entrance is cluttered with an assortment of items stacked against a wall – tatty garden chairs, a canoe, paint pots, a bicycle, splintered wooden pallets, a bathtub and, quite literally, a kitchen sink (rusting).
“Wolfff!” cries BABii as she opens the door and encourages a small white and brown dog to calm down. If the entryway is jumbled, then that’s got nothing on the accumulation of stuff that’s inside. Depending where you register on the spectrum, Fire Eye Land is either a panic attack-inducing mixture of disorderly junk or a treasure trove paradise of materials, knick-knacks and miscellaneous crap. A cross between backstage at a surreal pantomime and a shipping yard boat builder’s, Marie Kondo would take one look and walk out.