Boag spent time in 1999 doing a residency at an Aboriginal community at Lockhart River in Cape York Peninsula. These paintings were abstractions, which bore traces of paintings and prints produced during her stay in Korea in1995 and on subsequent visits. She spent four months with an Asia Link residency in South Korea in 1995, was artist in residence at the Australia Council studio in Tokyo in 1998 and has continued to exhibit in Seoul and Tokyo. Her Korean focus was urbanised landscapes defined by buildings, roads and fields. The preferred style was map-like, a highly edited diagrammatic arrangement of simple geometric shapes enlivened by contrasting bright colours and discrete patterns. In Japan she was attracted to the vast underworld city of the subway with its circuit-like maps and colour-coded destinations and the endless lines of people waiting by the winding tracks.

The radically different environment of the top of Cape York Peninsula with its sweeping panoramas, glittering light and vast spaces almost devoid of visible human presence might have been expected to have sponsored an even more minimalist approach. But the artist's eye was drawn to the definitions of buildings and road-ways so that at a casual glance one could have been tricked into believing that here was outer suburban-industrial-estate inspired compositions. The clue to the source lay in the use of white as a unifying element, used in a similar fashion by later modernist landscapists to isolate and emphasis shape relationships. Previous exhibition notes spoke about the bad weather, which closes the roads connection Lockhart River to the 'outside world'. In these periods the community turns in on itself and it is to this that Boag referred when 'hanging around' the collection of sheds, houses and roadways that define the settlement. In representing the outer-upper limits of human presence in Australia, in jewel-like clusters of shapes, Boag continues to contradict traditions of response to the far-north landscape in terms of its vastness and bleaching light. Like Fred Williams bending down to pick roadside flowers and later incorporate their colours into his most minimal of inner-outer landscapes, Boag invites us to consider, in a most charming manner, how the poetics of landscape require continual re-invention.

In Ian Chandler's output of work there are two images which would surprise those exclusively familiar with the intense, multi-layered images of this and recent exhibitions. One is of a group of rocks, Remarkable Rocks on Kangaroo Island in fact, and the other is a close-up of a Banksia flower. The rocks were exhibited in a 1984 Pinacothea exhibition and the Banksia in an Anima Gallery 1986 exhibition.

They reveal a great deal about his background as an artist and also his intense feeling for a natural world, which he has always considered to be under threat. Dealing with social issues while endeavouring to 'make good', self-sufficient works of art is a challenge, which generations of Australian artists from the 1940's have had to face and it's never been easy. Chandler has done his art history and knows the score. He could have retired from the field having contributed a large body of work which posterity will evaluate as part of a counter-culture tradition which took root in Adelaide in the mid-to-late 1960's, one which produced a significant line-up of visual and critical talents concerned with making a difference and changing the world. But he has continued to make paintings, large complex paintings which lock horns with the big issues of the day; the State Bank collapse, French foreign policy in the South Pacific, gambling and more.

The transition to global communication and related issues was logical and appropriate given his emergent style of the mid-1990s which favoured seething meshes of live wires criss-crossing each other like internet circuits. While aping the frenetic, hypnotic pulse of computerized data delivery image in this exhibition were slow cooking's equivalent of a slow burn, a demand of the viewer that the looking involve moving up and moving back and a little turn around steady. The fact that his image of humanity, caught in a web of desires and entrap-ment, is a neo-Renaissance man-god was something to think about. So too was the fuguelike presence of hand-signing diagrams which in their reference to origins (and perhaps limitations) of human communication provided clues to the artist's resistance to the cyberspace vortex.