A cherry cake, beautifully painted in the demure style of a 17th-century Dutch still life, sits atop a glass dish. The shape into which it has been cut, a sort of mock-medieval cross, is that of Spandau prison, the infamous Berlin detention centre and symbol of uneasy Cold War accord to which a handful of high-ranking Nazi officers were banished following their conviction at the Nuremberg Trials. Demolished in 1987 following the death of its last inmate Rudolf Hess, its physical remains were ground to powder and dispersed into the North Sea. At a stroke, Quinn transforms this complex and uniquely sinister structure into a mass-produced teatime treat, impermanent and consumable.