Suspense. Enigma.

This used to be called the Pillsbury Building. It was named for a family that put Minneapolis on the map for its millions of bushels of flour produced anually at the turn of the century. Now it is named for a bank. In this open, glass-ceilinged atrium, a mysterious sculpture hangs by thin wires over the heads of the security team and others on the ground floor. From the skyway level, you get a good view of the granite blocks, each fit and assembled into a giant grey chevron suspended between air and ground. It could be a metaphor for the financial system we have inherited that remains suspended above catastrophe by the thinnest wires...the filaments of a public faith that are stretched by daily events to some kind of limit. Perhaps they are a metaphor for the harp strings of angels that only play music in the air.