Daily Junction.mobi portal<p>Moths are especially well served by contemporary artists. The Peruvian contemporary artist Lorena Solís Bravo has considered the moth through the lens of queer ecology. Their 2024 film <a href="https://www.lorenasolisbravo.com/myth-moth-mother">myth, moth, mother</a> celebrates the mystery and transformative power of moths. The Devon-based printmaker Sarah Gillespie, meanwhile, has created a series of mesmerising mezzotint prints of moths. “I wasn’t looking for moths when I started drawing them around ten years ago,” <a href="https://www.sarahgillespie.co.uk/about/articles-reviews/fragile-moments/">Gillespie has explained</a> “they came and found me. Their numbers may be in appalling decline but for me their presence has become ever more insistent”.</p>
<p>More recently, the artist Alexandra Daisy Ginsberg unveiled The Length of a Moment, <a href="https://www.oxfordnorth.com/news-events/alexandra-daisy-ginsberg-makes-moths-hidden-world-visible-in-major-new-public-artwork-at-oxford-north">three public sculptures at Oxford North</a>, which visualise the flight of a moth interacting with the scent of a flower. Situated in an area rich with historic meadows, this artwork draws attention to diminishing moth populations and the need for better environmental management.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable"> <a aria-label="Zoomable image" href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/762103/original/file-20260924-50-we8a8t.jpg?ixlib=rb-4.1.1&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Painting of An Orange-Headed Ground Thrush and a Death's-Head Moth on a Purple Ebony Orchid Branch" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/762103/original/file-20260924-50-we8a8t.jpg?ixlib=rb-4.1.1&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/762103/original/file-20260924-50-we8a8t.jpg?ixlib=rb-4.1.1&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=436&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/762103/original/file-20260924-50-we8a8t.jpg?ixlib=rb-4.1.1&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=436&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/762103/original/file-20260924-50-we8a8t.jpg?ixlib=rb-4.1.1&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=436&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/762103/original/file-20260924-50-we8a8t.jpg?ixlib=rb-4.1.1&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=548&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/762103/original/file-20260924-50-we8a8t.jpg?ixlib=rb-4.1.1&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=548&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/762103/original/file-20260924-50-we8a8t.jpg?ixlib=rb-4.1.1&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=548&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a> <figcaption> <span class="caption">An Orange-Headed Ground Thrush and a Death’s-Head Moth on a Purple Ebony Orchid Branch by Shaikh Zain al–Din (1778).</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/457758">The Met</a></span> </figcaption> </figure>
<p>My favourite moth in art, however, comes courtesy of the 18th-century Indian artist Shaikh Zain al–Din. The moth that appears in his 1778 watercolour is the famous Death’s-head Hawk-moth. Here, however, it lacks the sinister and spectral nature of the moth from The Silence of the Lambs. Instead Shaikh Zain al–Din gives us a moth just going about its everyday (or every night?) business. </p>
<p>This isn’t the moth as a symbol of death, or as a muncher of clothes or crops (of the circa 2,500 species of moth found in the UK, only <a href="https://theconversation.com/coming-out-of-the-closet-why-i-will-always-love-moths-35590">two actually eat clothes</a>). This is a moth doing what moths do well: feeding from and <a href="https://theconversation.com/moths-do-the-pollinator-night-shift-and-they-work-harder-than-daytime-insects-138472">pollinating plants</a>, providing food for birds and looking rather beautiful while doing so. This image is a timely reminder that moths are much less weird and way more wonderful than most people think.<!-- Below is The Conversation's page counter tag. Please DO NOT REMOVE. --><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/292852/count.gif?distributor=republish-lightbox-basic" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" style="border: none !important; box-shadow: none !important; margin: 0 !important; max-height: 1px !important; max-width: 1px !important; min-height: 1px !important; min-width: 1px !important; opacity: 0 !important; outline: none !important; padding: 0 !important" referrerpolicy="no-referrer-when-downgrade" /><!-- End of code. If you don't see any code above, please get new code from the Advanced tab after you click the republish button. The page counter does not collect any personal data. More info: https://theconversation.com/republishing-guidelines --></p>
<p><span><a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/samuel-shaw-1419817">Samuel Shaw</a>, Senior Lecturer in History of Art, <em><a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/the-open-university-748">The Open University</a></em></span></p>
<p>This article is republished from <a href="https://theconversation.com">The Conversation</a> under a Creative Commons license. Read the <a href="https://theconversation.com/moths-in-art-history-centuries-of-creativity-reveal-the-beauty-of-a-misunderstood-insect-292852">original article</a>.</p> </div>