Returning to Bliss Through Nicole Wittenberg’s Landscape Paintings
- Nathan Zierlein
- Dec 24, 2025
- 3 min read

When I think about the art scene in New York, I look back to avant-garde figures like Andy Warhol and Jean-Michel Basquiat. A swanky downtown gallery filled with mysterious creatures clad in leather and black, slinking through a bustling exhibition of polarizing innovations. The art spoke to a facet of the human condition – critiquing the systematic structure of America’s capitalist culture in the late twentieth century.
Today, the sultry-art galleries of the past are inhabited by college kids looking to bum a glass of seven dollar wine. During the day they’re empty and sometimes even the art itself feels best suited for the waiting room at my dentist's office.
The Museum Mile was vacant last Wednesday as clouds began to block out the morning sun. Taking a turn onto 79th St., I was compelled by the regal entrance of Aquavella Galleries Inc. The space was nearly deserted minus me and a couple of curatorial assistants swiping away on their phones. Only the clicks of my boots could be heard in the echoey hall as I looked in awe at the explosion of colors from Nicole Wittenberg’s painting collection “All The Way.”
Originally founded by Nicholas Aquavella in 1921, the Aquavella family specialized in Italian Renaissance art. In 1960, the expanded their artistic horizon showcasing pioneers in impressionism like Claude Monet, and surrealistic works by Pablo Picasso. The Aquavella family positioned themselves at the mecca of old New York’s art world but not many know of the gallery’s rich background.
Wittenberg’s landscapes are larger than life, alongside her still-lifes dipped in rich hues of fuchsia and orange. Her exuberant palette brings life to Aquavella’s moody atmosphere, she believes “good paintings are moving images because they’re not static.” Despite her obvious talent in “All the way ” with smooth oil brushes thick as cake frosting – there’s something contrived about the series that leaves me inexplicably unfulfilled.
Wittenberg’s paintings could blend into any landscape collection shown in a commercial Chelsea gallery. Priced at grossly expensive figures, the art is devoid of emotion while mimicking the style of past impressionist genius.
Regardless of whether her paintings are innovative or not, I was taken by Wittenberg’s interpretation of nature. Inhabiting an innate sense of motion and time, her setting consists of forest greenery situated in dream-like environments moments before sundown. “Upheaval, 2” exemplifies this hazy imagery. A large fern anchors itself at the center of the foreground while flamingo pink trees stand starkly against the bleeding orange and navy background. From above, a cluster of green leaves poke into the frame — teasing an imaginary glimpse into a vast canopy of lush branches above.
With that beauty in mind, the question of art’s duty to expose the issues of the world remains unclear. Perhaps the state of our sociopolitical environment beckons us to ignore the unstable condition in the United States and across the globe. For decades artists are assumed to have a political message behind their work.
What’s the point of art if not for its ability to show the truth of society’s condition. Wittenberg distracts us from the world, taking the viewer into a vibrant landscape of eternal bliss. Perhaps Wittenberg begs us to look away from the troubles, encouraging us to indulge in fleeting beauty if only just for the moment.





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