I spent a year in
Kodaikkanal, a hill station founded a century
ago by American missionaries 7000 feet in the
Nilgiris (Blue Mountains) of south India.
Just before my arrival, the town installed
stadium lights at the bus stand and Seven Roads
Junction. Nightly, a blizzard of moths
swarmed to the lights from the surrounding
jungle. Each morning, hundreds lay crushed
on the tarmac below. “We’ve never seen
these,” a local said of three lyssa zampa.
I began to photograph, video, and paint them,
drawn by the subtle variations in their
patterning, their feathers and clawed legs. The
paintings echo the naturalist aesthetic from Itō
Jakuchū’s 18th-century scrolls to the
contemporary work of Walton Ford. The
fluidity of the acrylic medium suggests the
ephemeral nature of these fragile yet vigorous
creatures.
Back in Virginia, I moved to House Mountain,
near the Blue Ridge. Here I found many of
the same moths: the luna, the black witch, the
ailanthus webworm, which has hitched a ride with
the invasive tree of heaven. The moths
point to the effects of migration, both human
and their own, as well as the interface between
nature and technology and its often unforeseen
consequences.