In 2003, the Bush administration banned news photographs of the flag-covered coffins of service members killed in Iraq. While this was allegedly to protect the privacy of the fallen’s families (despite the fact that there were no identifying features visible), many argued that it was primarily a tactic to hide the human cost of the war from the American public.

This week, British artist Jeremy Deller opens a new project at the New Museum that encourages viewers to engage with the reality of war in a manner even more direct than what images can offer.

The centerpiece of the project, titled “It is what it is: Conversations about Iraq,” is the charred wreck of a car that was bombed in Baghdad — tangible, undeniable evidence of the ongoing violence. But while this alarming sight is meant to bring the reality of the war home, the larger goal of Deller’s exhibition is to provide a place for dialogue between visitors and various experts on the war. To that end, he has invited journalists, an army sergeant, academics, translators, and refugees from Iraq to take up residence in the gallery and be available for discussion with the public during the exhibition’s run from February 11 to March 22.

After the show closes, Deller, with sponsorship by Creative Time, will board an RV with two of the experts and travel across the United States, towing the car on a platform and stopping at art institutions and community sites to invite non-art-world audiences to engage with the wreckage and spokespeople.

ARTINFO discussed the project with Deller in the New Museum a few days before the opening.

Why did you choose a car for the symbol of the war?

I had originally conceived of this idea for the fourth plinth in Trafalgar Square in London in 2006. The plinth was originally intended for an equestrian statue, and a destroyed car can be a cipher for a body. Also, a bombed car has no redeeming aesthetic features, which I liked; in fact, it’s an eyesore, and I wanted to see how far I could get it in the competition. [It was shortlisted.] Finally, a car has a special presence in Western culture: We worship it, yet it also represents oil and pollution. In America, the car is still sacred and has made this country what it is.

Where did the car come from?

This particular car was parked on Baghdad’s Mutanabi Street, which is named for an Iraqi poet and located in a district known for its bookshops and intellectual life. The bombing was widely interpreted as a targeted attack on the cultural life of the city. Ultimately, the car is about bringing a piece of evidence over.

Are there any precedents for the project?

In 2004, Israel shipped a bombed commuter bus to Washington, D.C.; it traveled around the country as well. That had a very particular political purpose. This project, in contrast, does not attempt to promote a political ideology. I think people will interpret it differently, as either a justification or condemnation of this war.

Is acting as an initiator of literal dialogues a new role for you as an artist?

Yes, it is. It’s not about what I have to say about the war; I’m no expert, nor do I have some kind of moral superiority just because I’m making art about politics. Much of what I do is about research and opportunity, and this project has both.

Your other projects have attempted, through reenactment or mapping, to uncover history. But here you’re dealing with history in a pre-emptive manner, causing people to confront the present before it becomes an official history written by someone else.

Yes. Originally I thought about curating a museum of the Iraq War, a museum of the future, if you like. In such a museum a destroyed car, in my mind, would be a key exhibit.

Do you think the reception of the car will be different on the road as opposed to in museums?

When the project is in museums — in a controlled, secure space — the audience will already be receptive. When we park at a truck stop in Mississippi, the public will be less prepared. I suspect that soldiers will understand. They’ll recognize what this is.

I suspect there’s a lot of residual anger about the past six years. We might receive some of that anger, but it’s not really about us. But you just can’t predict it — once it leaves the gallery it’s a totally random, unpredictable situation, which is good.

Lyra Kilston is Senior Editor at Modern Painters.