The end of the world is nigh, or at least that seems to be a warning based on the flood of apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic TV shows being released over the last few decades, particularly in recent years. In each of the shows, the world has come to an end through some form of tragic circumstance: a nuclear war, a deadly virus, an alien invasion, or even a zombie takeover.

In Amy Casey’s meticulous acrylic paintings, houses and main street buildings whirl through the air amid debris, teeter in huge piles in the sea, or balance precariously on giant clusters of fungi. Our perception is tested: are the houses really tiny or are their surroundings exceedingly big? That slippage is at the heart of her practice, which confronts our current, often overwhelming information era and its politics, war, the climate crisis, population displacement, and more. “It is hard to process the world and the constant flow of information about it without feeling powerless and paralyzed,” the artist says. “Sometimes life just feels like a neverending shriek.”

In her paintings, which are often as small as six inches wide but can range in size up to several feet, Casey renders actual houses and buildings she has observed mostly around her home in Cleveland. They’re often catapulting through space and losing bits of themselves, which mirrors what Casey describes as witnessing a world “that seems to become a stranger on a daily basis.” She adds, “As I watch a world on the brink, painting it literally falling apart allows me to process life and function on a daily basis,” she says. “Envisioning towns in worse-case scenarios serves as an acknowledgment and a hope that there is still time to change; it isn’t that bad yet.”

Recently, Casey has begun to focus on nature, incorporating houses into surreal scenes filled with delicate ink caps or overgrown tree stumps. Even here, the emphasis is on decay, but she tugs on a more hopeful cord to reveal a sense of flourishing and renewal, too. These small paintings revisit houses that have spun away from their previous turmoil and landed in a new resting place, although not without challenges. After all, how does one live on top of an oyster mushroom?

“We have all experienced our own versions of the world turning upside down and trying to find our footing and start over while feeling small, alone, and overwhelmed by unsettling change,” the artist says in a statement. “These paintings meditate on these feelings and what it’s like to be alive in this overwhelming time and place. These are not gnome or fairy houses in a magical forest. They are the surviving remnants of a world on the precipice, but they are like nature, like us: nothing if not resilient.”

Casey’s work is currently on view in a group show at Brassworks Gallery through June 6 in Portland and Zg Gallery in Chicago. She’s also preparing for a show at Maria Neil Art Project this September in Cleveland. Follow updates on Casey’s Instagram.

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