What's in the box? A tiny museum of wonders

Thursday morning in Toronto, I had a tiny museum of wonders all to myself. The space, which is more officially known as Territories 2.0, is one of the special projects appearing at this year's Design TO festival (launching Friday) and it's already installed on the northeast corner across from Sugar Beach. 

Technically, Territories 2.0 might be better described as an art installation, one created by Quebec artist Olivier Roberge. But the structure — an unassuming cube — houses a selection of Roberge's hand-made dioramas: miniature mountain landscapes that have been illuminated behind glass. 

Viewers can hunt for tiny tableaux in this manufactured wilderness. Try to spot moose, sasquatch, a team of (doomed?) mountain climbers. Roberge sculpts all the elements to HO Scale (the same ratio employed by most model-train enthusiasts), and for an added dose of charm, he's even built a few Easter eggs into the edifice. (Look for three brass peepholes on the outside walls — they reveal itsy bitsy bonus scenes.) 

All in all, Territories 2.0 offers the sort of whimsy that begs a person to stop and explore — or at least take a few photos. But during my visit, I was the only person poking around … while everyone else on the street zipped past the entire spectacle.

How could anyone ignore a 10-foot-tall box that's been dumped in the middle of the sidewalk? I don't get it, but the artist understands. 

"During the day, it'll look like nothing," says Roberge, describing Territories 2.0."You won't see it and think, 'Oh, it's a piece of art.'" You probably wouldn't guess what's inside, at any rate.

After dark, however, it's much more alluring. Roberge recommends visiting once the sun goes down. At night, the cube's exterior lights up, mimicking a canopy of stars. The effect lends the project one more element of fantasy — and yet, there are some very real issues grounding the work. 

The tiny world of Territories 2.0 is no pristine wilderness. Billboards appear throughout the dioramas, and they're plastered with fiery imagery: photos of erupting volcanoes, riots, the surface of the sun. The tone is purposefully ambiguous, the artist explains. "I'm trying to make people reflect on their relationship to nature, and how they see climate change and what we hear in the media about reducing our impact on the world."

Environmental themes are common in Roberge's work, which has been shown widely throughout Quebec in the last few years. Since 2009, the artist has been exhibiting his miniatures, but he's increasingly focused on installations in the style of Territories 2.0. As the title suggests, there's a Part One to that particular project, and it used the same "cube" to house a different diorama. (That one was a winter scene, punctuated by tiny beachy billboards. It debuted in Ottawa in 2017.) 

Prior to 2020, Roberge says he juggled his art practice with other gigs, chiefly part-time work as an art handler. "During the pandemic, I decided to go all-in," he explains. "I decided to do a big, big, big landscape in my studio. … I put all of my money into that piece of work."

The pivot paid off. As the world reopened, "the galleries wanted big projects but nobody had big projects. I came at the right time," he says with a laugh.

Roberge's "big landscape" — Hoc Est Corpus Meum, or This is My Body — has appeared at several institutions around Quebec including Maison de la culture Marie-Uguay in Montreal (2022) and Centre d'artistes Caravansérail in Rimouski (2020). He is currently developing a new exhibition of dioramas, Ecogenesis, which is scheduled to debut this summer.

As for Territories 2.0, which was previously shown in Montreal and Quebec City, it will remain on view in Toronto through April 2.

Check out photos of the installation and read more about the project in this excerpt from our conversation. CBC Arts reached Roberge by phone earlier this week.

CBC Arts: You changed the dioramas from the first Territories …

Olivier Roberge: Yeah, it's why this is Territories 2.0.

So is this a work in progress? Will you continue to change the scenes inside the cube?

My work is always a work in progress. What I tell people is, if you want to fix one of my sculptures [in place], you have to buy it. If you buy it, I will not come into your house to change it, you know? (laughs) But until then, they're always moving.

I'll take some trees from one sculpture, and I'll put them in another sculpture. And when I move a piece, I always pull out all the trees and all the scenes. I take all the narrative elements out and move them to another piece. There is now a church in the landscape — Territories 2.0, the one at the waterfront — and that church came from the mountain, Hoc Est Corpus Meum. I just like to move things.

For me, our life on Earth is all about change. All change. At any moment. It's all change, no stability. 

What is interesting to me about presenting this during the winter is the light. When the sun goes down, the cube starts to illuminate from the inside. In cities, we don't see the stars anymore, and I want to bring back the stars. 

When you look at the stars — for me, it's grounding. It's stability. You can see the grand ours — the constellations. They're there in the sky. Just look and you can say, "OK, it's all well in the stars. All is in the right place."

Why do you work with miniatures?

For me, it's kind of like — you know when we were kids? We played with blocks and we invented little worlds to help us to comprehend what's happening.

It's kind of a manner to understand the world, to build little things. When you're doing that, you're thinking. You have time to think; you have time to look. 

We are living in a society that — like, it's very difficult to see what is true and what is not, what is real news and what is fake news, what is a real photo and what is a picture that's been transformed. It's very hard to distinguish. So when people see miniatures, it's very comforting because we know what it is. It's fake. It's a fake world, it's just a story.

You don't have to take it seriously, but inside there's a serious meaning.

The environment is an important theme in this piece. Why is that? Why do you make art about the environment?

You know, if we put our garbage in our backyards, we would decide to consume less. But because we put it away, we don't make that decision.

We have to try to work together to address that problem: our impact on the planet Earth.

There's a sense, a sentiment, that we can do nothing. But I think art is one [way to help]; it's one way to do that.

This conversation has been edited and condensed.

Olivier Roberge, Territories 2.0. 1 Lower Jarvis St., Toronto. To April 2. 9 a.m. to 9 p.m. www.designto.org