An Exultation of Lisa Adams' "The Master Narrative," 2023, by James Scarborough

Lisa Adams’ haunting composition "The Master Narrative" presents us with a dramatic confrontation between the mathematical precision of geometric abstraction and the raw, indifferent force of nature herself. Against a turbulent sky of both light and menacing clouds, a fractured mechanical form ascends – or perhaps plummets – like some fallen angel of the industrial age.

Adams deploys a stark color palette that seems to mock the very notion of natural harmony. The sharp reds and cool blues slice through the composition with the precision of a surgeon's blade; the dark clouds gather like primal forces waiting to devour this man-made intruder.

What interests me is how Adams has created a work that speaks to humanity's endless, perhaps futile attempt to impose order on chaos. The geometric form, despite its bold colors and decisive edges, appears both powerful and fragile against the overwhelming sky. It is as if we are witnessing a moment of cosmic irony – our grand designs and master narratives revealed as mere toys before the vast indifference of the natural world.

The scale of the piece, at 60 x 48 inches, forces us to confront this tension at a nearly human scale. We cannot look away from this drama unfolding in paint. The title itself, "The Master Narrative," becomes a kind of bitter joke: What master narrative can survive intact when faced with the sublime terror of existence itself?

Still, there is a terrible beauty here too. In the very act of creating this work, Adams acknowledges both the futility and the necessity of human striving. Like Sisyphus with his boulder, we must continue to create our geometric dreams, even as the clouds gather.

This is not a comfortable work of art. It is not meant to be. It is a meditation on the precarious nature of all human endeavor, rendered with a technical precision that only serves to heighten its existential impact.