More than any other contemporary artist, Barbara Goodstein has merged drawing and sculpture, painting and relief Working with white plaster on plywood panels painted black, brown, russet, ochre or hunter green, Ms. Goodstein pares down the landscape into idyllic, linear elements that feel spontaneous and alive. Her reliefs have incisive, graphic punch, like linoleum cuts, X-rays or chalkboard drawings. But she varies the weight of the plaster from blunt and thickly roughened, sometimes planar, to silken, transparent and whisper-thin. In her most compelling landscapes, which are architectonic yet elastic, wind seems to move through the grasses and daylight seems to shine within the darkness of her ground color.

Most of the nine landscapes in this show are long horizontals. Ms. Goodstein, masterfully economical, edits the landscape to almost gestural signs that suggest Chinese scroll painting. A barn is merely broken contours; a mountains is a long, swelling, snow-peaked curve; clouds are white smudges; and trees, some of which look like large single leaves, are childlike in nature. Yet every shorthand form gets at the essence of the thing. In Lumberyard (2009), each of four trees is completely unique. One suggests a handprint; one is monstrously bushy; another is a lollipop; and another twinkles white in the darkness like a Christmas tree. Despite their simplicity, naturalism prevails.

In Ms. Goodstein’s strongest reliefs, fragments of the world register like flashes of memory. Yet her fragments convey the whole of the landscape, as well as the actions of nature.