Art in the Moment: Alicia Serling

Alicia Serling treats her energy like a palette. After months of burnout, she's learned to mix equal parts information intake with restorative practices. "Physical health, sleep, and cat cuddles (a non-negotiable) are my anchors," she tells me, describing how she navigates staying informed without losing her creative center.

There's something refreshing about how she talks about this balance. No shame about needing to step back, no guilt about protecting her creative practice. She monitors what she calls her internal "doom meter"—when the news pushes it into the danger zone, she steps away. "Creativity can't thrive in survival mode."

"Angel"

Her studio practice reflects this same intentional approach. Working across painting, drawing, sculpture, and installation, Alicia creates pieces that interrogate systems of knowledge and power while maintaining what she calls "tactile, often evocative materiality." Looking at her work—from a circular piece declaring "hot girls hate capitalism" with an adorable hamster illustration to paintings exploring environmental destruction through surreal landscapes—you see someone who isn't afraid to wrestle with big ideas through unexpected approaches.

The political atmosphere has shifted how she thinks about her role completely. As an educator at an international boarding arts high school in Idyllwild (she manages their exhibition center too), she's witnessed firsthand how global exchange fuels creativity. "As an educator, I now see my role as a bridge to using art's unique power to transcend language barriers and foster unity."

But she's also watching that world shift under political pressure. Student visa restrictions are destabilizing arts education in ways that feel personal. "Will the U.S. remain a beacon for arts learning without systemic changes?" she asks. It's a question that haunts her planning—she's now focusing on building resilience, mentoring students to develop portable skills while pushing for policies that treat art as essential, not elective.

Her mentors from Otis—Judie Bamber and Andrea Bowers—showed her how to weave politics into art without sacrificing personal vision. "Their approaches differ, but both prove that art can be a catalyst and a refuge." That duality shows up everywhere in Alicia's work: pieces that can make you laugh at a hamster while contemplating capitalism, or find beauty in environmental destruction while confronting its reality.

"Art's role isn't just to reflect chaos—but to reimagine paths through it," she reflects. Her installations function as sites of dialogue, inviting viewers to reconsider inherited narratives. There's something about how she balances conceptual rigor with genuine playfulness that feels necessary right now.

"Eggs"

Her research-driven practice engages with gender studies, witchcraft historiography, linguistics—but when you see a painting of fried eggs with the text "Freeze your eggs for free, and sell'em really really weird" next to the word "ICE," you realize she's found ways to make even the most academic concepts feel immediate and alive.

This is someone who believes art can act as both a critical tool and a conduit for intimacy. Someone who's learned to protect her creative energy without withdrawing from the world. Someone who understands that sometimes the most radical thing you can do is invite people to reimagine possibilities together—even if you're doing it through hamsters and fried eggs.

See more of Alicia Serling's work at aliciaserling.com

Studio Photo