New York

L.C. Armstrong


L.C. Armstrong has recently turned from conceptually based abstraction to large, aggressively breathtaking floral panoramas, most of which bear signs, subtle and otherwise, of eco-trouble in paradise. Her signature, in addition to the shield of resin in which she encases her canvases, is the thorny index left by a spent bomb fuse. Here it is reborn as barbed mossy stems bearing up the many flowers, botanically exact and imaginary, spilling giddily across the picture plane. Although the fuse traces lose their purely gestural aspect, as well as a certain isolate nastiness they had in the abstractions, they are also less gimmicky now: That is, the ominous connotation of impending violence is wittily recontextualized to underscore the explosive nature of Armstrong’s fleurs du mal: blooms as bombs. It is an inspired move, this stemming of the fuse, and the trope is the richer for it.

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