Simon Poulter: Artist and Aurelian

 

Simon Poulter: Purple Emperor (2022) [1]

Watercolour on Fabriano Artistico paper 

viral.info/butterflies

 

 

I. 

 

Another Simon whom I admire and whose work I greatly appreciate, is the artist Simon Poulter whose fascination with colour naturally led him towards the iridescently beautiful world of butterflies, and who for the past five years has been assembling a collection of watercolours depicting all fifty-nine of Britain's remaining butterfly species.

 

 

II.  

 

Of course, there's a science behind the vibrant wing patterns and one could write at length about the way in which butterflies rely on colour in every aspect of their lives. From courtship displays to camouflage techniques, the 18,000 named species with whom we share the planet have evolved strategies over millions of years to make the most of their defining feature. 

 

One might also wax lyrical about the fact that butterflies can see more colours than humans; like many other insects - and perhaps one or two poets - Lepidoptera are sensitive to ultraviolet light (i.e. the blue of the Greater Day). Or how they often use bright, bold colours like red and orange to advertise their toxicity to predators (a technique known as aposematism).  

 

But, instead, I think I'll just refer readers to Poulter's website and encourage them to purchase one of his lovely butterfly pictures - click here - as, in this case, the work speaks for itself. Poulter's vision - like that of the Russian author V. V. Rozanov - is full of passion and he is able to see that "immortality is in the vividness of life" itself. 

 

Thus it is that the butterfly "becomes a whole revelation to him: and to us" [2].

 

 

III. 

 

Finally, I would also ask readers to do all they can to protect these insects and their habitat. Not because they are symbols of the human soul, but because they are finer things than us; creatures with unique biological traits, including metamorphic life cycles, possessing a terminal value (or delight) independent of mankind [3].  

 

Ultimately, ethics means very little if it does not extend into the natural world and include non-human entities (indeed, I would extend it even further into the world of non-living objects, but that's another story).         

  

Notes

 

[1] The puple emperor (Apatura iris), was once common in southern England, but, like half of all British butterflies, it experienced a sharp decline in both range and numbers during the last hundred years, mostly due to habitat destruction. The surviving populations are now mostly confined to broadleaved woodlands in Hampshire, Surrey, and Sussex, with a few scattered across other localities. Following the rewilding of the Knepp Estate by Charlie Burrell and Isabella Tree, the purple emperor has also returned in significant numbers to this Kentish haven. I have written in praise of this project; see the post of 5 March 2019 - click here. 

      Readers might also be interested in the work of Matthew Oates, an English naturalist and nature writer, obsessed with butterflies, especially the mighty Purple Emperor. See His Imperial Majesty, a natural history of the Purple Emperor (Bloomsbury, 2020) and for more information visit his website: click here. I am told that Oates and Poulter or currently collaborating on a film project to do with the Purple Emperor butterfly, so that's something to watch out for.  

 

[2] I'm quoting from D. H. Lawrence in his 'Review of Solitaria, by V. V. Rozanov', in Introductions and Reviews, ed. N. H. Reeve and John Worthen (Cambridge University Press, 2005), p. 317. See my post of 14 May 2019 - 'The Butterfly Revelation' - click here. 

 

[3] As John Keats once wrote in a letter to Fanny Brawne (his fiancée and muse): "I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty [human] years could ever contain." I have substituted the word 'common' with human.

      This letter, of 1 July 1819, can be found in Volume II of The Letters of John Keats (1819-1821), ed. Hyder Edward Rollins (Cambridge University Press, 2012); or it can be read online thanks to the Keats Letters Project: click here. 

 

 

For a short selection of other posts on butterflies (and moths), please click here.

 

The Jungle of Everyday Life: In Anticipation of Rob Dunn's New Book 'Never Home Alone'

(Basic Books, 2018)

A book I'm very much looking forward to reading when published in the UK later this month is Rob Dunn's Never Home Alone, which is a natural history of the domestic environment that indicates that there is a huge number of other species sharing our indoor space - perhaps over two hundred thousand. 

Many of these plants and creatures are, of course, microscopic, but almost all are completely overlooked, even when visible to the naked eye. And many are performing a vitally beneficial role, so best to put down the anti-bacterial spray:

"Some of these species help our immune systems to function. Others help to control and compete with pathogens and pests. Many are potential sources of new enzymes or drugs. A few can help ferment new kinds of beers and breads. And thousands carry out ecological processes of value to humanity such as keeping our tap water free of pathogens. Most of the life in our homes is either benign or good."

We destroy these things, therefore, at our peril: we simply couldn't survive in a sterile universe even if it were possible to create such; we should encourage the biodiversity that exists within our own homes (and bodies) and accept that - whether we like it or not - human life is always full of (and reliant upon) other forms of life.      

Further, it would be sensible to understand our domestic flora and fauna a little better than we do for the simple reason that we now mostly live indoors. Dunn tells us, for example, that the average child in the developed world spends 93% of his or her time in a building or vehicle and suggests that this reveals "a radical new stage in the cultural evolution of our species".

We have become stay-at-home man, or Homo indoorus, as he puts it. And if evolution is going to continue anywhere, it's more likely to be at the back of the fridge or in our central heating systems, than in what remains of the great outdoors where the background extinction rate of species is ever-accelerating.

Note: Rob Dunn is a professor in the Department of Applied Ecology at North Carolina State University and in the Natural History Museum of Denmark at the University of Copenhagen.

See: Never Home Alone: From Microbes to Millipedes, Camel Crickets, and Honeybees, the Natural History of Where We Live, (Basic Books, 2018). The lines quoted here are from the Prologue.