Death Into Art

There are countless artists who render insects and other animals with traditional media like pen, ink, pencil, paints, clay, wood, and other materials, creating a realistic representation of the organism itself or, alternatively, a whimsical or inspired interpretation thereof. What, then, do we make of art that uses deceased life forms as the medium?

Detail of Jennifer Angus' In the Midnight Garden, 2015© Smithsonian Magazine

Your appreciation, or disapproval, may hinge on one or more facets of personal taste or ethics. Have we given collective thought to the implications of such works? Maybe we should. People tend to place animals into one or more general categories. One category is reserved for other species that benefit people directly, and usually economically, though often framed as pets or companions for which we like to think there is no "price" we could assign to those individual animals.

Another group we call "pests," or vermin, enemy species that cost us economically in terms of damage to property, pets, livestock, or livelihoods. They may even cost us our lives if they are species that can prey upon us. Those are the two major categories, though most species fall through the chasm between the two, ignored or unknown to most members of Homo sapiens

Ideally, when it comes to animals, art is a way to enhance the appreciation of other species, encourage us to think differently about them, inform us as to their unique behaviors and place in the bigger picture (outside the frame, if you will), and inspire us to learn more once we leave the gallery. I personally know dozens of artists who share that intent, and who execute amazing works. I also know artists for whom I assume that is the foundation of their works, but who use insects themselves as raw material for their works. This begins to make me feel uncomfortable.

© Christopher Marley

The overwhelming message I receive from artwork composed of dead insects or their body parts is that the creature itself is not a complete expression of beauty unless it is modified by human hands into something "greater." I am quite certain this thought never crosses the mind of the artist, and that is understandable. I might even go so far as to say it is human nature to have the desire to "improve" other objects, other species. Look at every domesticated animal, every plant cultivar.

The second ethical aspect of turning deceased animals into art has to do with sourcing. Where did the specimens come from? The acclaimed artist Damien Hirst is currently creating art from dead butterflies, carefully removing the wings and applying them to boards in colorful patterns. He obtains specimens by purchasing old collections. Re-using and repurposing, so what is so bad about that? Nothing, if the collections have no scientific value, but a travesty if the specimens had location data with them. They belong in museums in that event. Other artists use "farmed" specimens bred in captivity so there is no detriment to wild populations.

An absolute purist would argue that even the best sourcing of specimens is still taking away from the carbon and nutrient cycles that other organisms benefit from. Hirst and other artists might consider simply putting out dead insects and letting carpet beetles and booklice reduce them to powder that can then be used to create more art. What an installation that would be, to bring awareness to the natural process of decay.

Dermestid beetle damage© deanslab.org

The final insult, and I would welcome a better word, is that the artist employing organisms or their parts makes money from the exploitation of nature's works. Artists might consider donating at least a percentage of income to wildlife conservation organizations for the protection of the living versions of the dead ones they use in their works. Maybe, like Christopher Marley, they do and it is simply not widespread public knowledge.

Artists have the power to change our minds, our attitudes, and our behaviors, but it would be nice to see more respectful methods in the madness. More murals. Huge insect images like the ones rendered by Portugese artist Sergio Odeith. Spectacular glassworks like those of Rafael Glass. The real creative challenge, then, is finding new ways to exhalt nature without exploiting her. It can be done. I have faith that way.

Meet Margarethe Brummermann

If there is one person in Tucson who has single-handedly made my life here a true joy, then it is Dr. Margarethe Brummermann. We met through that wonderful social network known as BugGuide, when she began posting insect images to that site. There is much more to Margarethe than just insects, though, and I have enjoyed learning about her former adventures while sharing in some of her new ones.

Margarethe actually lives just outside of Tucson, west and north of the city in Picture Rocks, on the other side of the Tucson Mountains. She lives in a very nice home with her husband, Randy, and a “pack” of five dogs: Montana (“Tana”), Cody, Leika, Frodo, and Bilbo (plus two cats, Boris and Natasha, named of course for the villainous duo in Rocky and Bullwinkle).

They have neighbors, but houses here are widely scattered by city standards, and there is lots of space around their residence. Plus, they are adjacent to state rangelands where cattle graze, coyotes roam, and rattlesnakes are common. It is an austere but scenic landscape, save for a vast mountain of rubble from the nearby quarry.

Indoors, Margarethe’s passions are evident in every room in the house. While she has degrees in zoology and vertebrate physiology, she is also an accomplished and popular artist. Working mostly in watercolor, she paints everything from pets to western life and landscapes. She erects a booth in several outdoor art shows and festivals each year, and her work also hangs in local galleries. She has also done commissioned work.

The last couple of years, Margarethe has created a new project for herself: documenting in digital images the many colorful and unique beetles of Arizona. She shoots images in the field, but also brings specimens home to photograph on a clean white background to bring out the finer details and truer colors of her subjects. Her intention is to publish a “coffee table book” with plates of her images and a brief explanatory text. She has already had interest from publishers; and her latest count is over 800 species of Coleoptera she has imaged.

German by birth, Margarethe has traveled the world and done field research on a wide array of animals. Her stories are vivid and entertaining, as well as educational, and she shares them freely when we take day trips together out of town. She is not above poking fun at me, too, but she’s endlessly patient with my quirks and tolerant and forgiving of my sometimes irresponsibly slower pace in the field.

One of the many joys we have is introducing each other to other entomologists, insect enthusiasts, and wildlife photographers here in Arizona. We often go together to gatherings like the annual “Beetle Bash” hosted by Fred and Carol Skillman at their home in the Dragoon Mountains; and Pat Sullivan and Lisa Lee in Sierra Vista who have recently started holding an annual “Infestation” of entomologists at their own residence.

I can honestly say that my life would be a great deal poorer for not knowing Margarethe and Randy, and certainly a lot duller without our regular excursions away from the city and into the lovely canyons and mountains. Scenic landscapes, incredible fauna and flora, and great company: Who could ask for more? Thank you, Margarethe!

NOTE: You will want to follow Margarethe’s adventures, observations, and passions for yourself at her new blog, Arizona: Beetles, Bugs, Birds and More.