The variety of shapes and sizes hanging on the walls of Aucocisco for Maine artist Dozier Bell's show are all tied together by a visual lens that consistently makes something out of nothing. Starscapes are rendered with tactile buildup of paint turning a two-dimensional diagram into a cosmic stew. Unnamed cities are enshrouded in a Dickensian charcoal fog. Thin air never seemed so thick.

There is a definite nod to the works of Caspar David Friedrich and his Romantic peers' miasmic quests for the visually sublime in nature, but Bell gives us faith that she is carrying the torch rather than excavating empty forms from the past. The impressive collection of paintings and drawings tenderly balances spiritual exploration with earnest conceptualization and masterful technique. The paintings come off the wall in a matter of days, so time is of the essence for any intrigued space explorers.

In keeping with the tradition of the sublime is Marker, 2. Sky, fog, and rocky coastline meet as though a divine creator forgot to draw in the lines and has let the colors run. Protruding from the rocks is a tall slender object, dwarfed by the natural setting to which it bears witness. The fact that the image could just as easily be a lighthouse on the Maine coast as some sort of alien edifice in a dreamscape proves the universality of the subject, as though you've visited there once but can't quite remember when.

Most of the other paintings add a signature artistic device to this tradition that propels Bell's work into the modern and conceptual. Star fields, oceans, and nebulous clouds are all featured with highly geometric images superimposed onto the canvas. On closer inspection, the shapes are those of technological innovation. Crosshairs from the cockpit and sonar circles attempt to make sense of the cosmic jumbles. Tehom is a large-scale triptych where a vast field of stars shimmers as though seen from the Hubble telescope. This image is sandwiched by cloud formations that look as though they could be part of a meteorological report. Over the right and left scenes are patterns of crosshairs and circles, respectively. Human logic attempts to make order of the cosmos, putting it back in the box and on the grid, or perhaps the symbols of the cross and perfect geometry imply a divine presence in the stars?

The plot thickens as much as the fog. As it becomes clear the geometrical shapes are entirely of human origin and most likely to be used for destruction. Peppered throughout these vague scenes are smaller works thematically linked as the Conflict Series. A murky image of a city is transformed into a target as your mind imagines the motion of a bomber speeding towards its destination. Even scenes without the target impositions are fraught with tension. With a name like Conflict Series, you get the feeling you've seen the last of the depicted worlds.

Perhaps the technological images are not intended to be so menacing. Surface 4 depicts an off-kilter ocean with the horizon line forming a dramatic diagonal across the canvas. Lines of measurement dissect the space at right angles, reflecting the canvas. This very well could be the view from a fighter jet careening over the ocean surface or a dream image of an out-of-body experience.

This indefinite junction may be as purposeful as the artist's hazy brushstrokes. Bell refers to her themes as those of "remote viewing technologies." It's hard to tell whether we are observing the power of humankind looking out into the world or the internal world of the Godhead. Bell may be asking if we need to make the distinction at all. The concepts of conflict and spiritual evolution walk in step for every piece, posing as a grand drama of yin and yang. The works succeed because the viewer becomes swept up in the entirely human process of trying to figure our role in the cosmic seas on display. Simultaneously proclamation and meditation, the work of Dozier Bell puts her on a well-deserved pedestal.