As I move through my paintings and drawings, trying to explain them as best I can, I decided to start with this one. "Silkmothia". This one is for my son Grant, it hangs in his room. He brought home some silk moths, well, worms at the time, he loved those little guys. He would watch the cocoons just sit there, waiting for them to wiggle. Eventually they did wiggle, and out squirmed 2 silk moths, after which he would recite all sorts of interesting tidbits about the sad, mouth-less, flightless short lived lives doomed upon a silk-moth. As humans we domesticate an awful lot of shit. Turned boars to pigs and fattened them up for food, wild bull/yak things are now fat cows, wild powerful cats now humbled as house pets leer at us and begrudgingly accept our company, wolves became poodles, horses are ridden, the list goes on, not the least of which is the terrible fate bestowed upon chickens...shudder.
But the silk-moth is particularly macabre. According to my 9 yr old son, they only exist to create silk, they have been bred not to fly, and have no mouths to feed themselves with. They create silk then keel over, their role in the service of humanity complete. I'm not sure if I am supposed to feel pride, or horror, but they sure were fuzzy and cute, kind of. He loved those little flightless insects so much I painted them for him and that is why this painting exists, thus the story of "Silkmothia"