– a “still unravished bride of quietness ... [a] foster-child of silence and slow time” – a kind of contemporary Ode on a Grecian Urn? Or are they rather a double edged comment on factory farming and animal rights?

Such speculations based on this and other works shown here lead on to some of the central concerns of art itself – concerns that go far beyond any immediate context. Is it an activity which merely tries to displace pain or death by fixing things so they cannot change, or is it much more active than that, an affirmation of life force, a visible sign of a belief in renewal? Or, to put it another way, is art the last resort of the control freak who cannot stand the unknown and tries to limit pain, or is it part of a process of healing which brings things together with a real hope for the future?

Split down the middle into black and white, past and future, such questions seem artificial. Life isn't like that, it's not so clear cut – and neither is art. The whole point about art is that it can contradict itself; it doesn't need to follow external rules. Perhaps this is also the main point in this case: absence may be an unbearable loss but also, at the same time, a positive presence.

“So what”, you could say, “Words, words, words! Art is about doing something. How can something that's not there be so important?”

“That's a very good question,” would be my reply. But beyond that I would say nothing.