
Fiona Banner
In Fiona Banner’s Chinook, 2014, two sets of helicopter blades mounted on the ceiling just miss each other with every revolution. They seem to quip as lovers might, headlong and heart first, aestheticized amid the surrounding bucolic hills of Yorkshire.
In Ha-Ha, 2014—titled after the architectural element that forms boundaries between spaces—the gallery’s windows are coated in 95-percent-UV-reduction vinyl with cutout punctuation marks in different fonts forming peepholes, literally shaping how we see the outside. We become voyeurs of a landscape that, by virtue of its concealment, is thrown