Amy Lincoln: Twilight zone

Contributed by Jonathan Stevenson / Luminous, though an overused adjective in art writing, is an apt one for Amy Lincoln’s edgy new paintings, mainly of plants, on display at Morgan Lehman in Chelsea. Their vivid color, exacting line, and exotic detail leap out at the viewer, so that the initial impression is straightforwardly Rousseau-esque, maybe with a nod to earnest Regionalist and Symbolist landscape painters. Her work isn’t merely gorgeous or wistful. She imparts to her paintings an arch, expansive ambivalence that gives them depth, mystery, and a little darkness.

[Image at top: Amy Lincoln, Pink Caladium, 2016, acrylic on panel, 20 x 16 inches.]

Amy Lincoln, Variegated Rubber Plant, 2016, acrylic on panel, 20 x 16 inches.

The veins of her Pink Caladium, for instance, look alive and vaguely parasitic, as though its beauty may imminently succumb to kinetic forces. Some of the plants in Veranda Study appear predatory amid innocent species that camouflage them. There’s little doubting that the variegated rubber plant in the eponymous painting is in peril from the encroaching purple plant. In Purple Taro, the two plants flank the foreground like baleful sentries. She admits that her plants are “a little monstrous,” her skies “unnaturally vivid.” And these pieces straddle the line between the sublime hallucinations that Leary talked about and the nasty, bad-trip kind.

Amy Lincoln, Veranda Study, acrylic on panel, 8 x 10 inches.

Amy Lincoln, Purple Taro, 2016, acrylic on panel, 20 x 16 inches.

Amy Lincoln, Bloodleaf Study, 2016, acrylic on panel, 10 x 8 inches.

Amy Lincoln, Spring Moonlight, acrylic on panel, 34 x 24 inches.

Or, as Rod Serling
might have put it, between “the pit of man’s fears and the summit of
his knowledge.” Lincoln’s sensibility seems akin to that of The Twilight Zone:
she is not content only with beauty, and isn’t credulous enough to take
it at face value. Where she finds that quality, there is invariably
drama — something sinister lurking or hovering that is not fully known.
The title Spring Moonlight waxes pastoral, but it’s ironic
rather than naive: the celestial orb at the center of the canvas is
not immediately identifiable as the moon, and seems to pulse
radioactively.

These paintings, smart and probing as they are visually striking and technically accomplished, scratch the itch at the juncture of perception and imagination. And Lincoln appears to have the mind and talent to apply that faculty well beyond the realm of horticulture.

Amy Lincoln,” Morgan Lehman, Chelsea, New York, NY. Through May 7, 2016.

Related posts:
Shape, light and line at Storefront

Symbolist landscapes in Scotland, including Munch, Gauguin and Ensor

Preview: Karla Wozniak at Gregory Lind

Studio visit: Sue McNally
Two Coats of Paint Resident Artist: Peter Scherrer

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Two Coats of Paint is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution – Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License. To use content beyond the scope of this license, permission is required.

Two Coats of Paint is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution – Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License. To use content beyond the scope of this license, permission is required.

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1 thought on “Amy Lincoln: Twilight zone”

  1. Beautiful, eerie paintings. "Twilight Zone," all right. For some reason these elegant, richly colored plants seem enormous and threatening. Carnivorous vegetation on a grand scale.

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