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The phenomenologist Gaston Bachelard, in his book Poetics of Space, explains that "the minuscule, a narrow gate, opens up an entire world". In her recent work, Hilary Boscott reflects on how the miniaturisation of a natural system, one component or detail of it, can be an effective metaphor for the vastness of nature and the cosmos. Not an environmental artist in the usual sense of the term—working directly in the landscape through placement of objects or physical manipulation of the earth—her strategy is nevertheless akin to those behind many so-called 'earthworks'. Put succinctly, it involves re-orientating humanity within the natural world and promoting an awareness of values critical to on-going life.
This is not simply a retrograde step to the early 1970s when the acceleration of technological and scientific advances caused Western-orientated societies to suffer from a state of dislocation and Future Shock (to quote Alvin Toffler) and to turn to conservation issues in a quest for self-preservation. Rather, through her current art practice and associated work with threatened species of amphibians, Boscott indicates other dimensions within the ecological debate. Technology is embraced, not abandoned, to illustrate relationships between organic and inorganic systems and certain historical experiences which have fallen into oblivion.
In her recent installation, Pangaea—The Eye of the Wind, she focussed on the five sash windows set in the far wall of the Institute of Modern Art. The concept of the piece evolved during a trip of six-week's duration to New Zealand earlier in 1991. This country, with its extraordinary diversity of landscape, and indigenous plant and animal life is one for which the artist feels a particular affinity. Her visit brought her in touch with... The rest of this article is available to subscribers of Eyeline