Eight years have passed since the UK last saw a solo exhibition of Mariko Mori’s work. Now the Japanese photographer and filmmaker is set to return this autumn, and, most surprisingly, will be jetting in encased in a glass capsule.

The main components of the exhibition at the ALBION gallery are three circular photomontages apocalyptically entitled The Beginning of The End: Past, Present and Future. In each of these works, Mori is shown lying in a womb-like transparent bubble in and among numerous icons of ancient and contemporary civilisation: Gizeh in Egypt, for example, or Tokyo’s Times Square.

An 18ft glass pod has been designed to sit in the exhibition space, and will change colour according to the celestial movement of the stars and the moon, a motif already seen in The Beginning of The End photomontages. In these, Mori wears a bodysuit that reflects the beyond, but this time it is not the galaxy, but the terrestrial world around her. Lying in her capsule, Mori’s costume mirrors the hue of the surrounding panorama: for example, it is grey-blue to match Dubai at twilight; lurid pink to match the glow of a luminous Oriental metropolis; and gold when laid out in front of the stony Cambodian pavilion of Angkor Vat. Her body is implicitly pervaded by the aura of her surroundings. She is a mirror, a facsimile.

Throughout art history, the male body has always appeared buttoned-up and fastened against any natural adversity – shielded by military armour or steadfast garb, not an inch of flesh on show. The female body, on the other hand, has always been seen to have an implicit relationship with the natural world, stretching back to traditional imagery of Venus or Diana, languishing naked among the four elements. Some would say this is because the patriarchal world of art made it impossible for a woman to define herself on her own terms: she could not retain her individual identity within portraiture, and thus an amalgam of personas had to be conjured up, taking classical mythology and male fantasy as its inspiration. Natural habitats were usually the arena in which these fantasies were played out.

Mori situates herself at the end of this tradition, although her actual position is unclear. Is she unconsciously subscribing to this erosion of female identity? After all, she is seemingly nude in her bodysuit, and none of her personality is on show. Or is this a bluff? For despite appearing as statuesque as a Classical goddess, implicitly engaged with the landscape around her, she is actually twice removed from it. For, materially, she is shielded from her environment by the transparent dome and spiritually – in keeping with her Buddhist beliefs – she is blissfully detached from her surroundings. She is totally guarded against absorption into the natural world and, as a by-product, refutes centuries of female imagery. She is defiant and resolute against her habitat, metaphorically transcending it. She has become androgynous: not male, not female, scarcely even human.