Gardeners of Eden
Art, Conservation and the Interconnected Natural World
For more than two decades, British artist Claire Milner has explored the relationship between humanity and the natural world, using painting to address biodiversity loss, habitat destruction and the increasingly urgent need for environmental conservation. Her richly layered works move between abstraction and figuration, combining intricate imagery, symbolism and sustainably sourced natural mineral pigments to reveal the fragility and interconnectedness of the ecosystems on which we depend.
Her latest exhibition, Gardeners of Eden, brings together two years of work exploring forests, oceans and wildlife, while extending her artistic practice into direct conservation. At its centre is The Hidden and the Revealed, a painting created in collaboration with Dr Haley Mellin and Art into Acres, with proceeds intended to support the permanent protection of tropical rainforest in Suriname.
In this interview, Milner discusses the environmental concerns that have shaped her career, the influence of art history on her visual language, and her belief that art can do more than raise awareness. She also reflects on the responsibility of artists to consider their environmental impact and the potential for painting to contribute to meaningful, lasting change.
Environmental concerns have been central to your work for more than two decades. What first compelled you to bring questions of habitat loss, extinction and humanity’s relationship with the natural world into your artistic practice?
My collections represent my own identity and values, and these subjects have been instrumental in shaping my entire life. I have a deep-rooted fascination with the natural world and a clear awareness of how fragile it is. I’ve always been drawn to the complexity and beauty of nature, but early on, that fascination became inseparable from a concern about what we, as humans, are doing to it. Habitat loss and extinction are not distant or abstract issues; they reflect the consequences of how we live, what we value and how we understand our place within the wider ecosystem. The web of life on this planet is intricately connected. Scientists predict that humanity’s footprint may cause the loss of 50% of all species by the end of the century. Species extinction does not happen in isolation, as humanitarian crises, food insecurity and forced displacement follow.
Art became a way for me to explore these questions, particularly those that are difficult to communicate through facts and statistics alone. I wanted to create work that could make people pause, look more closely and perhaps feel a deeper connection to the natural world. That emotional connection is important because we are more likely to care for what we feel connected to.
Over the past two decades, my practice has evolved, but that central concern has remained. I see my work as an ongoing conversation about our relationship with the environment, one that acknowledges the damage we have caused while also recognising the extraordinary resilience and value of the natural world. Ultimately, I hope my work encourages people to reconsider the boundaries we place between humanity and nature, and to recognise that we are not separate from the living systems on which we depend.
Gardeners of Eden has developed over the past two years and brings together forests, oceans and wildlife within a wider consideration of ecological interdependence. How did the exhibition begin, and at what point did you recognise that these individual works were becoming part of one larger conversation?
I work in series, and so the individual works were always part of the wider collection intended for a solo show at my gallery, NoonPowell Fine Art in London. The eponymous painting is entitled Gardeners of Eden, and the rest of the collection evolved from there. Each new piece opened up further questions and connections. As the body of work grew, I began to recognise recurring themes: the resilience of the natural world, its vulnerability and the ways in which human activity shapes the environments we inhabit.
The individual works were always intended to be part of a larger conversation, as these different ecosystems are closely connected. A forest is never simply a forest, just as an ocean is never isolated from the life and systems around it. Everything is part of something larger, and changes in one place inevitably ripple outwards.
Over the past two years, I’ve found myself returning to forests, oceans and wildlife, exploring them not as separate subjects, but as parts of a complex, interconnected living system. Each work developed from its own observations, ideas and emotional responses, but there was a shared thread running through them: an interest in the delicate balance of nature and the interdependence of all living things.
Gardeners of Eden grew from that understanding. Titled after the documentary film of the same name, the eponymous painting in this collection appears benign, even joyful, yet posits an unfolding ecological disaster with potentially far-reaching consequences.
Elephants are a keystone species, meaning that many other creatures, such as zebras and impalas, depend for their survival on the habitat-clearing work of elephants, who are known as ‘The Gardeners of Eden’. Elephants are nature’s great gardeners. Because of their size and foraging habits, they hold immense influence over landscapes, trampling foliage and opening up pathways for sunlight to reach shorter plants. They disperse seeds far and wide, boosting biodiversity and helping forests thrive. Even their footprints are beneficial, filling with water to create homes for small organisms.
You have described conservation not simply as a subject within your work, but as an extension of your artistic practice. How important is it to you that art can move beyond raising awareness and become capable of creating tangible environmental change?
I believe it is incredibly important that art can move beyond raising awareness and become a catalyst for tangible environmental change. Art has a unique ability to connect with people emotionally, encouraging them to see the natural world differently and recognise their own relationship with it. But for me, awareness is only the beginning.
Conservation is a natural extension of my artistic practice because it is fundamental to my life and because it allows the ideas and values behind my work to translate into meaningful action. I want my work to do more than draw attention to the beauty and fragility of the natural world; I want it to contribute, in some way, to its protection and regeneration.
I think artists have a responsibility to consider the wider impact of what they create, both in the materials they use and in the conversations and actions their work inspires. Even small changes can have a ripple effect when they encourage people to think differently or become more actively involved in protecting the environment.
I see art and conservation as deeply interconnected. Art can inspire the emotional connection that motivates change, while conservation gives that connection a practical purpose. I consider the most meaningful work to be that which not only makes people look, but also encourages them to care and, importantly, to act.
At the centre of the exhibition is The Hidden and the Revealed, created in collaboration with Dr Haley Mellin and Art into Acres. Can you tell us how that relationship developed and what drew you specifically to the project protecting tropical forests in Suriname?
I first discovered the inspirational work of Haley Mellin while listening to The Art of Conservation podcast in 2021, hosted by Tania Bryer, featuring a conversation between Haley and Iwan Wirth on sustainability in the art world. Her words immediately resonated with me and inspired me to explore her work further.
Her paintings are keenly observed and nothing short of spectacular. The vital land conservation she has driven through Art into Acres is a powerful force for good, something I deeply admire and feel allied with.
After connecting with Haley and discussing how to collaborate with Art into Acres, we deliberated on the right project and painting. Ultimately, I created a bespoke artwork informed by Suriname’s historic commitment ahead of COP30 to preserve 90% of its forests in perpetuity.
Suriname is the world’s most forested country by percentage of land area, with around 93% forest cover, and this commitment represents one of the most significant conservation pledges of its kind. Suriname absorbs more carbon than it emits, making it an important natural carbon sink and a vital ally in addressing climate change.
The relationship developed from a shared belief that art can do more than represent the natural world; it can help us reconnect with it and inspire meaningful action to protect it. Working with Dr Haley Mellin and Art into Acres was a continuation of an important dimension of my practice, connecting the visual language of my work with the tangible, long-term protection of species and ecosystems.
I was particularly drawn to Suriname because of the extraordinary richness of its tropical forests and the importance of protecting them while they are still largely intact. There is something profoundly moving about the idea of safeguarding a place not simply for ourselves, but for the countless species, Indigenous populations and future generations that depend on it.
The sale of The Hidden and the Revealed has the potential to contribute to the permanent protection of an extraordinary area of rainforest. Does knowing that a painting can have such a direct impact change your relationship with the work itself, or your understanding of what it means for someone to collect it?
Yes, profoundly. Most importantly, proceeds from the sale of the painting will be amplified by generous matching funds from Art into Acres conservation partners Re:wild, Zangrillo Family Foundation and One Small Planet in order to complete the community-led protection of 720,000 hectares of Suriname’s tropical forest, supporting the work of the Saamaka people.
As an artist, I hope a painting can invite people to look more closely, to pause and to feel a deeper connection with the natural world. Knowing that The Hidden and the Revealed could help secure the permanent protection of an extraordinary area of rainforest gives the work a life beyond the canvas. It becomes part of something tangible and lasting.
It also changes what it means to collect the painting. The collector is not simply choosing to live with a work of art; they are becoming part of its story and helping to protect something far greater than the work itself.
There is something deeply moving about the idea that a painting inspired by the natural world can, in turn, help preserve it. For me, that creates a beautiful connection between art, nature and responsibility, and gives the work an added layer of meaning that will endure long after it leaves the studio.
The Hidden and the Revealed contains native Surinamese species that appear and disappear within the landscape. How did you research the ecosystem, and how did you decide which elements should be immediately visible and which should require a more attentive gaze?
The Hidden and the Revealed explores the relationship between what we see and what lies beyond our immediate perception. Forests hold so much that remains unseen: intricate ecological networks, ancient knowledge and forms of life that we are only beginning to understand. Through this collaboration, I wanted to draw attention to these hidden worlds and to our responsibility towards them.
In the initial research stage of the painting, I was helped enormously by conservationists and scientists from Re:wild, who provided lists of species.
Researching the ecosystem was about understanding not only the individual species native to Suriname, but also how they exist in relation to one another and to their environment. I explored visual references, botanical and wildlife imagery, and the distinctive qualities of the Surinamese landscape. I wanted the work to feel rooted in a real place while also retaining a sense of mystery and discovery.
This interplay between visibility and concealment encourages the viewer to slow down and look again. Rather than presenting the ecosystem as a collection of separate species, I wanted to suggest a living, interconnected world in which things are continually emerging from, and disappearing back into, the landscape.
That slower, more attentive way of looking is central to the experience of all my works. Some elements needed to be immediately apparent, offering the viewer a way into the composition, while others were allowed to merge with the surrounding forms, colours and textures. I was interested in how easily something living can become almost invisible when it is perfectly adapted to its environment.
Materiality is particularly significant within Gardeners of Eden. You work with sustainably sourced natural mineral pigments, creating a physical connection between the paintings and the environments they address. What do these materials allow you to achieve that conventional manufactured paints might not?
The materials are an integral part of the meaning of Gardeners of Eden. By working with sustainably sourced natural mineral pigments, I’m bringing something of the earth itself into the paintings.
These sustainably managed sites supply abundant earth pigments that maintain a tangible connection to the landscapes and ecosystems at the heart of my practice. The pigments have an inherent connection to the landscapes and natural systems I’m exploring, allowing the material to become an extension of the subject rather than simply a means of representing it. Their material presence makes them an ideal vehicle for conveying the themes embedded within my work.
Unlike conventional manufactured paints, natural pigments possess a particular depth, subtlety and unpredictability. Their tonal variations, textures and responses to light bring a sense of tactility and vitality to the work. There is also an element of collaboration in the process: I’m working with materials that have their own characteristics, rather than imposing a completely uniform colour or finish.
Using sustainably sourced materials from the natural world is equally important to this approach and encourages me to think more consciously about my relationship with the environment and the resources I use as an artist. This creates a more direct, sensory connection between the viewer, the paintings and the living landscapes they evoke. The materials carry something of the places that inspire the work, so the paintings are not just images of nature, but objects with a tangible relationship to it.
Your paintings frequently move between abstraction and figuration, with forms emerging, dissolving and becoming absorbed into their surroundings. Is this visual instability a way of reflecting the fragility and interconnectedness of the ecosystems themselves?
Yes, I think that movement between abstraction and figuration reflects the way ecosystems are constantly shifting and adapting. Nothing in nature exists in isolation; forms are always emerging from, responding to and dissolving back into their surroundings.
I’m interested in that moment when something is just recognisable, but can also become something else. There is a fragility in that uncertainty, but also a sense of resilience and interconnectedness.
By allowing forms to remain fluid rather than fixed, I hope to evoke the delicate balance within ecosystems, where even the smallest change can affect the whole. The paintings are less about depicting a particular landscape and more about exploring relationships, tensions and transformations.
Art history remains an important presence in your work, with references ranging from Henri Rousseau to Dante’s Divine Comedy. How do you approach these historical sources without allowing them to become nostalgic, and how do you transform them into a language capable of addressing contemporary ecological concerns?
I see art history not as something to look back at nostalgically, but as a living language that can help us understand the present.
Artists such as Henri Rousseau offer a vision of nature that is at once imaginative and strangely unsettling. His jungle paintings were created despite never having experienced such landscapes firsthand and serve as a powerful metaphor for the current extinction crisis. If biodiversity loss continues at its present rate, future generations may only encounter such environments through images and paintings.
Classical literature such as Dante’s Divine Comedy provides a powerful framework for thinking about journeys through different states of existence, transformation and consequence. These references give me a starting point, rather than a fixed set of meanings.
I’m interested in what happens when these historical worlds meet the ecological realities of our own time. The relationship between humans and the natural world has always been shaped by myth, symbolism and our desire to impose order on what we don’t fully understand. Today, however, that relationship is increasingly defined by environmental instability, loss and the consequences of human intervention.
By bringing historical imagery into dialogue with contemporary ecological concerns, I want to disrupt the distance between the past and the present. Nature is not simply an idealised landscape or a backdrop for human experience; it is a complex, dynamic system of which we are a part.
My paintings draw on the imaginative possibilities of art history while allowing those references to become more ambiguous, unsettling and open to reinterpretation. I want to use the past to ask questions about the future.
Historical sources offer a rich visual and symbolic vocabulary, but their meaning is never fixed. By reworking that vocabulary, I hope to create images that invite viewers to reconsider their relationship with the natural world and to recognise the urgency, fragility and interconnectedness of the ecosystems we inhabit.
The exhibition includes works responding to wildfire, marine ecosystems, rainforest biodiversity and elephants as ecological architects. When dealing with subjects that carry such urgency, how do you balance the desire to communicate environmental realities with the need to create paintings that remain open to individual interpretation?
Art doesn’t exist in a vacuum. Artists throughout history have communicated the important issues of their time.
The subjects of the paintings I create are extremely personal to my identity and value system as an environmentalist, yet they are also universal and are reaching a critical tipping point for every individual, regardless of ethnicity, gender, class or religion.
The main driver of biodiversity loss is human activity, and climate change is an increasingly important factor. Biodiversity is also part of the solution, so the two are interlinked. Climate change and biodiversity loss are the existential threats of our time, and the international language of art is an extraordinary agent for discourse around such momentous and difficult topics.
Painting offers a way to engage with environmental realities without prescribing exactly how they should be understood. Wildfire, the complexity of marine ecosystems, the extraordinary biodiversity of rainforests and the role of elephants as ecological architects all speak to the delicate interdependence of the natural world.
These subjects carry an inherent significance, but I believe that art can communicate this most powerfully by inviting people to look, feel and reflect, rather than simply telling them what to think. This is not at odds with environmental urgency, but is part of how we encourage people to engage with it.
I try to maintain a balance between the specific and the suggestive. The subject provides an anchor in the real world, while colour, texture, movement and atmosphere allow the painting to move beyond documentation into something more emotional and intuitive.
I want the work to convey a sense of the beauty, fragility and resilience of these environments, while also leaving space for ambiguity and personal response. Each painting is created to inspire a moment of connection between the viewer and the natural world. If someone comes away with a renewed sense of wonder, a question they hadn’t considered before, or a deeper awareness of our relationship with the living planet, then the painting has done something meaningful.
Your work has appeared in contexts ranging from COP26 and museum exhibitions to major private collections, including the Marilyn Monroe portrait commissioned for Rihanna. Has moving between these very different audiences changed your thoughts about the reach an artwork can have and the different ways in which people encounter its message?
Absolutely. Moving between these different contexts has reinforced my belief that art can reach people in ways that go far beyond the gallery or the traditional art world. Each setting brings a different audience, and each audience brings its own perspective, experiences and emotional connection to the work.
For example, creating Blue Marilyn, the portrait for Rihanna, was a reminder of how art can exist at the intersection of popular culture, identity and personal expression, reaching people who might not otherwise engage with contemporary art.
There was a huge amount of global publicity in the mainstream press about the portrait. Media organisations were reaching out to me for years after I created it. Rihanna guest-edited an edition of Vogue Paris and featured the portrait as one of her favourite things five years after she commissioned it.
The reviews and feedback were wonderful, but as with Marilyn herself, the mosaic, created from tens of thousands of Swarovski crystals, was generally taken at face value. In all the publicity, there were few mentions of the secret painting of Norma Jeane Baker on the back, forever facing the wall, which was a perfect metaphor for Marilyn herself.
At COP26, my work was selected by the organising committee to be presented to delegates in the restricted Blue Zone of the conference to illustrate species extinction and habitat loss. The work was exhibited with Explorers Against Extinction, which was, in turn, chosen as one of only fifteen exhibits from thousands of initial applicants.
In a museum, an encounter with my work might be more reflective, while a work in a private collection can become something deeply personal to the individual who lives with it.
The important thing is that the work remains open to interpretation. I can bring my own intentions and ideas to a piece, but once it enters the world, it takes on a life of its own. People connect with it for different reasons, and sometimes those connections reveal meanings I hadn’t anticipated.
I’ve come to see that reach isn’t simply about how many people see an artwork, but about what happens when they do: whether it sparks a conversation, challenges a perception or creates an emotional response that stays with them.
Alongside the themes within the paintings themselves, sustainability extends into the practical decisions surrounding your practice, and you have repeatedly been recognised as an Active Member of the Gallery Climate Coalition. How do you negotiate the environmental realities of being a working artist, from materials and production to exhibitions and transportation?
Sustainability is something I consider not only in the themes of my paintings, but also in the practical decisions I make throughout my practice. Being an Active Member of the Gallery Climate Coalition reflects my commitment to reducing the environmental impact of the work I produce, while recognising that working as an artist inevitably involves certain challenges.
I am thoughtful about the materials I use, making the most of what I have and avoiding unnecessary waste wherever possible. I also consider the wider journey of a painting, from its creation in the studio to its framing, packaging, transportation and eventual exhibition.
These processes all have an environmental cost, and I believe it is important to be conscious of that and to mitigate it as much as possible. Exhibitions and opportunities to share work are an essential part of being an artist, but they also require travel and the movement of artworks.
I approach these decisions with care, considering how things might be done more efficiently and avoiding unnecessary journeys where possible. There is often a balance to be found between making the work visible and accessible and minimising its environmental footprint.
Sustainability is an ongoing process rather than a fixed set of answers. It involves questioning established ways of working, making more considered choices and remaining open to doing things differently.
I don’t think any individual artist can resolve these challenges alone, but collective initiatives such as the Gallery Climate Coalition are valuable because they encourage greater awareness, shared responsibility and practical change across the art world.
Gardeners of Eden asks viewers to consider not only what is being lost, but what might still be protected or restored. When visitors leave the exhibition, what would you most like them to carry with them, emotionally, intellectually or perhaps even in terms of action?
I would like visitors to leave Gardeners of Eden with a sense of hope, but also with a renewed awareness of our responsibility to the natural world.
Biodiversity forms the web of life that we depend on. It is essential to the healthy functioning of ecosystems around the world and is the result of 4.5 billion years of evolution. Over half of global GDP is dependent on nature, but nature is in crisis.
It is easy to feel overwhelmed by what we are losing, yet nature has an extraordinary capacity to regenerate when given the space, time and care it needs.
I hope the collection encourages people to look more closely at the world around them, to recognise the beauty and fragility of the ecosystems we are part of, and to reflect on how our everyday choices shape the future of our environment.
Perhaps it is about rediscovering a sense of connection, understanding that we are not separate from nature, but deeply intertwined with it.
Above all, I would like people to leave feeling that restoration is possible, and that even small acts of care can make a difference. Protecting what remains, nurturing what is struggling and allowing space for new life to emerge are all meaningful ways of participating in a more hopeful future.
If visitors carry away a little more curiosity, compassion and a belief that we can still make a positive difference, then the exhibition will have achieved something important.
This exhibition appears to mark an important moment in your practice, bringing painting, environmental research and direct conservation together more closely than before. Do you see Gardeners of Eden as the culmination of ideas you have been developing for many years, or as the beginning of a new direction for your work?
I see Gardeners of Eden as both a culmination of ideas I have been developing for many years and the beginning of a new chapter in my practice.
My work has long explored the relationship between nature, human intervention and our responsibility towards the environment. Over time, painting has become a way not only of observing and interpreting the natural world, but also of engaging more directly with the ecological challenges it faces.
This exhibition brings these strands together in a more tangible way, allowing the research and conservation work to inform the paintings, while the paintings themselves invite a deeper emotional connection with the environment, ultimately leading to real-world impact.
It is important that art does more than raise awareness; it can encourage people to look more closely, to question their relationship with the natural world and, perhaps, to feel inspired to protect it.
In that sense, Gardeners of Eden feels like a natural progression, but it has also opened up new possibilities. Art has long responded to the defining questions of its time.
My work begins with nature, not only as a source of imagery but as something to which art can remain physically and ethically connected. The paintings I create allow my practice to extend beyond the studio, contributing to the conservation of the landscapes and wildlife that inspire it, enabling the work to have a tangible impact on long-term environmental stewardship in a way that feels both necessary and urgent.
I see this as an ongoing journey rather than a conclusion, with the exhibition providing a foundation for further exploration of how art can contribute to a more thoughtful and reciprocal relationship with the living world.
For more information, visit Claire’s website and Instagram
