The works possess an energy that feels untamed and instinctive, with chaotic strokes and faces formed from bold, primitive shapes. Yet, amidst this seeming spontaneity, there emerge moments of remarkable precision—whether in the deliberate sweep of a palette knife or a finely tuned color combination. These details make it unmistakably clear to even the most discerning critic that they are witnessing the work of a highly professional artist. However, why does Kuznetsova engage in this game of art nouveau? It seems to us that, first and foremost, this is a search for a secure mask intertwined with a tense quest for her unique style and an exploration of her artistic identity. The psychedelic potential of these paintings increases when we acknowledge that the artist positions each of her works as a living being (with varying degrees of manifestation depending on the painting). We, as viewers, also become a sort of object of contemplation for Kuznetsova’s paintings; her works look down on us, or we are indifferent to them, or they find us repulsive, or perhaps the painting is so unconcerned with us that it has no eyes. The artwork feels like a being fundamentally dissatisfied with its status, surroundings, and purpose. The paintings are perceived as hyper-tactile, even though they appear to be painted rapidly and expressively. We can almost feel the surface of these beings: slimy and loose, eyeful and eyeless, humanoid or post-human. We cannot touch them, but the wild gaze of these beings suggests that they might be more real than the patterns in the brushstrokes, and they might also be pondering our (the viewers’) tactile qualities. This strange inner sensation simultaneously captivates, frightens, irritates, and evokes nervous laughter. The artist skillfully balances between high art, strange art, and a conscious pressure on the deepest levers of the human psyche—somewhere between fear and stupor.