Confession time: I am a fan of the Natural World only up to a point. When we pass by birds, flowers and trees, mosses and ferns, or we have a few days at the beach, stand under starry skies or enjoy spring rains, I cannot soak up enough of these beautiful moments. Eventually, however, the insect world has to be acknowledged. And there I slam on the brakes. Born, raised, and always living in the Deep South, the Natural World has so kindly offered me a broad pallet of insects to invade my worst nightmares. I remember, as a small child, playing barefoot in the yard beside our house. I must have been concentrating quite deeply on my game, because I suddenly noticed caterpillars crawling around me. Marching toward me in what seemed to my child's mind an unending deployment, an army of these black and yellow creepy-crawlies invaded my play space under the trees. I clambered to the top of a chair and began screaming for my mother to come and rescue me. It hasn't gotten much better since then, though I don't climb on chairs anymore. I still scream.
One day, however, I decided to take this unreasonable revulsion and turn it into a smile via my sketchbook. If you can laugh about something, it isn't so terrifying, I reasoned. I gave the enemy personality, even human clothing, and had a good time with them.
I think about my friend Carol and how unafraid she is around bugs, how truly interested she is in them, and I try a little harder to loosen up. But, in truth, I still don't like them.
I've been adding sketches of bugs for several years, now. Trying to be open-minded. Sorry, bugs. Really.
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