Alex Urban's latest works reflect an existence in a functional state of permanent crisis.

"Where does a religious person go when they've lost their faith? I think they seek out places that are sacred to them personally..." This is how the artist describes the origins of the series presented as part of her latest show at Leto. This is how she reveals the backdrop of these everyday scenes. Her protagonists are not the main characters in these stories, however. They're not submerged into the scenery of the gallery walls either. The walls themselves play a role too, they're not just a backdrop. These figures engage in activities that are beyond the autonomous. At the same time, there is (thanks to the painterly perspective and the politics of viewpoints) an obvious merging of the space of the painting and the space of the observer, surrounding the piece. Even if this is a trick of fancy, it does give the impression of a photograph that has been painted over.

Who is the observer here? What are they looking for in this space, plucked out of the mundane? And what do they find?

Meandering through the masterpieces of the newly renovated space of the Zwinger Gallery in Dresden, the endless grand halls of the Louvre and other major gallery spaces, the artist evaluates the value of her own work, which has taken on a trivial and even pointless aspect in the face of world events that seem to be pushing us all toward an inevitable chasm. She sneaks looks at the other visitors here as they amble through the exhibition halls. They walk past paintings, which are surely full of abstractions – when considered out of context – having lost their connection to their source. What are these visitors looking for? What do they see as they shift their gaze across some of the most iconic works of art of the past 100, 200, 400 years? And what if these were works created only a moment ago? Would it change anything? What are they thinking as they look at the sculptures of Robin, the paintings of Rafael, Giorgione? Would they see something deeper when seeing the video works of Angelika Markul?

While everyone's snapping photos of what's right in front of their eyes, only waiting to see it on the screens of their phones.

The crisis of global security – the first such multi-crisis that is affecting us so intensely, encompassing not only a climate disaster, but an economic and political one too. This is merely the subliminal, unsettling background of Urban's works. In one painting, some young women are seen nibbling fries from Micky-Ds, they've played hooky and are now hanging out in the art gallery – which could just as easily be a shopping gallery or mall. In the background, we can see a frame of the video "Devil's Throat" by Angelika Markul, the Brazilian waterfall and its metaphor of the supernatural power that humans overlook but that we've brought to Earth as a consequence of these unavoidable catastrophes we're facing. In the next work, we can spot a recognizable image from the news: climate activists throwing a can of soup at the Mona Lisa. Another canvas shows an older gentleman tilting his head as he sits on a sumptuous couch in front of a painting in an elaborately ornate frame. The frame is so famous that anyone can recognize it as Rafael's Sistine Madonna. Is his tilt in reverence to the painting or is he actually scrolling his social media feed?

Alex Urban's latest exhibition is centered on the search of the lost, a search for oneself and others. Art is there to assist in this search as merely (and most of all perhaps) a safe space.

(Text by Anna Mituś)