Two recently decommissioned fighter jets are in the incongruous setting of Tate Britain's Duveen Galleries. One plane, polished to a mirror sheen, lies belly-up, like an injured animal; the other hangs suspended from the ceiling, its matt surface stripped of its combat colours and stripes, painted instead with faint feather markings, bringing to mind a giant, trussed-up bird. Its stilled presence is both powerfully majestic and inert.