A young Polish artist working at the famed Dusseldorf Kunstakademie, Angelika Trojnarski infuses her paintings with a hefty dollop of middle-European angst and alienation without falling victim to myriad cliches. Her palette may be dank and dreary, but it glows like fog with a diffuse light and establishes a compellingly indistinct space in which figures and structures struggle to define themselves. Everything in Trojnarski's pictures has an almostness to it, with parts of machines and parts even of people fading from opacity and seeming volume to an almost gossamer transparency. The things occupying Trojnarski's cityscapes and interiors — and, indeed, the cityscapes and interiors themselves — hover in and out of existence, as if in a dream or a recollection. As Trojnarski reminds us, sight and memory are both grossly faulty modes of perception, but they're all we have with which to hold the world. Kinsey/DesForges, 6009 Washington Blvd., Culver City. Tues.-Sat. 10 a.m.-5:30 p.m.; thru Feb. 9. (310) 837-1989, www.kinseydesforges.com.