Growing up in western Pennsylvania, Alicia Adamerovich had a deep affection for the forests that surrounded her family home; after all, her father built their house using wood and rocks he found there. “We lived far from other people,” said the artist, who now resides in New York City, from her Ridgewood, Queens studio. “This is the farthest I’ve lived from nature.” Still, she said, “I’m drawn to it—and to the practice of using what’s available.”

Adamerovich’s affinity for nature—its majestic wonders as well as its grisly terrors—manifests in the organic, anthropomorphic forms and alien, moonlit landscapes of her ghostly paintings and sculptures. “These forms represent thoughts and feelings,” she explained. “I’m not trying to remake anything from our physical world; everything I’m making is psychological.”

Recalling the spiritual abstractions of artists such as Hilma af Klint and Agnes Pelton, which have recently seen renewed interest, Adamerovich’s biomorphic forms offer an entry point into mysticism and intuitive wanderings as well as a space for personal contemplation, whether inspired by the natural world or—in the Surrealist tradition—her weekly therapy sessions.

Take Genesis (2021): the wall work resembles a Rorschach test, with overlapping layers of wood carved into what appear to be smoothed-down segments of throwing stars or autumn leaves. They stack up to create little caves that contain cutouts for two small paintings—one of a full moon lighting up a raven sky, the other a miniature detail of her large-scale painting Thursday’s Child (2021), in which a sequence of plump, chalky ovals with tails evolves from a tiny sphere, almost like a lunar cycle.

Η συνέχεια εδώ.