"Rumbling across the empty expanses of meadows in the late summer, the strong, rough southwesterly wind always present where the Serpentine Park was to be laid out. The rain that lashed the scorched ground on the barely recognizable airfield where slender light aircraft bodies had taken off and landed provided the idea for Wing.

The air, the wind, beyond - and simultaneously the memory of what once was. A fantasy creature in movement, about to start in the wind - bird, wing, aircraft, wing, bird." RB