Lisa Meinesz on Creating Alien Life, Digital Sculpture and the Future of Contemporary Art

As digital art, sculpture, and speculative design continue to reshape the landscape of contemporary art, a new generation of artists is challenging how we define creativity, identity, and life itself. Working across physical sculpture and 3D environments, many contemporary creators are moving beyond traditional artistic boundaries to imagine hybrid organisms, post-human aesthetics, and entirely new visual languages inspired by technology, biology, architecture, and science fiction.

In this exclusive interview, contemporary artist and 3D sculptor Lisa Meinesz reflects on her creative journey, the influence of H.R. Giger and industrial landscapes, the transition from digital art to physical sculpture, and the deeply intuitive process behind her otherworldly creatures. From discussing creativity as a form of emotional transformation to exploring themes of symbiosis, consciousness, and speculative evolution, Meinesz offers a compelling perspective on what it means to create in an era where art, technology, and the natural world are becoming increasingly interconnected.

How do you realize that you want to become an artist? In your case, was there a specific moment when you understood that creating would become your way of engaging with the world?

Creating has always been my way of processing. I didn't have a particularly easy childhood, so making things became a way of escaping, processing emotions, and transmuting negativity. For a while, though, I convinced myself that being an artist wasn't a realistic path. I moved out at a young age and needed a stable income to pay rent, so I studied graphic design while working as a waitress. That led to a career as a graphic designer, which I stayed in for five years, before becoming completely creatively frustrated.

I started teaching myself 3D as a way of making art that didn't require a studio space or expensive physical materials, and completely fell in love with it. That eventually led to a career as a 3D artist, which I still do today.

For the last couple of years I've been lucky enough to freelance, which has given me the freedom to dedicate much more time to my own practice and return to physical making.

What was the first image, film, or experience that inspired you to imagine non-human forms of life?

My mum had H.R. Giger's work plastered all over the walls of our house growing up, so that imagery was ingrained in my brain from a very young age.

But one of my earliest experiences with non-human or alien life would be my favourite show as a kid, Aaahh!!! Real Monsters. (I had a crush on Oblina.)

When you create a new creature, do you feel that you are inventing something entirely new, or giving shape to something that already exists in some way?

I don't really feel like I'm inventing them. It almost always feels like discovery.

I'll often have a really clear intuition about a creature or a particular form long before I understand where it's come from. It's usually only afterwards that I can trace it back to the things I've been looking at or thinking about.

I think the subconscious plays a huge role in my work. I've spent a lot of time around industrial environments, machinery, construction sites, and I think my brain has developed a habit of finding beauty in those places. Those influences seem to come back in ways I could never consciously plan.

A lot of the time it genuinely feels like I'm tapping into something much bigger than myself. My job is really just to recognise it when it appears and follow where it leads.

Do you ever perceive your creations as autonomous entities rather than artworks?

Yes, definitely. I spend so much time with some of these creatures that they begin to feel like they have their own internal logic. After a while it stops feeling like I'm making decisions for them and starts feeling more like I'm trying to understand them.

If one of your creatures could evolve beyond your control, what do you imagine it might become?

I'd hope they would evolve towards complete symbiosis with their environment. One of the things I found so compelling about Alien: Covenant was David's obsession with creating the "perfect" organism.

To me, a perfect organism wouldn't dominate its environment or exploit it. It would exist in complete symbiosis with the systems around it. It wouldn't produce unnecessary waste or behave parasitically. Everything it needed would exist within a closed loop. In a way, it would be perfectly designed for nature rather than against it.

That's probably what I'd hope my creatures would become if they continued evolving without me.

Is there something you have learned about yourself through your artistic practice that you might not have discovered in any other way?

Definitely. I've learned that I feel connected to something much larger than myself. The closest way I can describe it is that I feel like an antenna. I don't know whether that's my subconscious, a higher self, or something else entirely, but making has taught me to trust that experience rather than question it.

Among all the artworks you have created, is there one that feels particularly close to you? What makes it so special?

I'd still say my aluminium "Tract" fetus sculptures from 2023. They were one of the first bodies of work where I felt like I had found a visual language that genuinely felt like my own. Up until that point I was experimenting with lots of different ideas, but they felt like something clicked. They also marked the beginning of my transition from purely digital work into physical sculpture. Holding something I'd spent so long imagining on a screen in my hands for the first time was pretty profound.

Your creatures often feel so alive that they seem capable of existing beyond the artwork itself. If one of them were to ask you why you created it, what would you say?

I'd probably just say: because creation is all there is. I don't think I made them for a reason beyond that. Making feels like one of the most fundamental things we do as living beings. It's simply my way of participating in the dance of life.

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