The trees of the title are being planted as urban furniture. Initially they are seen fragile and bare, at repose just before being installed in newly landscaped and pedestrianised public spaces. In apartment complexes at Sandy Row and the Village (two working class, loyalist areas recently brashly colonised by developers) Duncan moves inside the protected plazas offered to the apartment dwellers. Here trees have been planted in large pots or emerge from neatly shaped gravel as if in melancholy affirmation of the architects' drawings. The image taken from the roof garden of South Studios shows a vista which tries to look beyond the rooftops of the terraced houses - typically for a Duncan view the chimney pots of the houses just make it into the sight-line, but the hills above west Belfast are most noticeably interrupted by the tip of a Union flag and the towering reality of a July bonfire, constructed from sculptural pallets and rising improbably into the sky, topped with a UVF flag. Along Sandy Row a workman rolls out manicured turf as a frontage to Days Hotel, while across from him a flurry of flags frames a UFF mural proclaiming: 'You are now entering Loyalist Sandy Row', a reassuring marker of authenticity for any cultural tourist in the city. Such stark incongruities are relatively rare in Duncan's work, which elsewhere examines the dead ends which new housing, often literally, leads to. The trees which begin the exhibition gradually give way to images of vegetation growing, against probability, in marginal landscapes.