Fearful symmetry: an artist and her insects

Jennifer Angus’s work walks a fine line between beautiful and horrifying. In her hands, insects are not just bugs on the wall. She arranges them in precise patterns of colors and shapes. the result is disarming beauty.

The brilliant leaf mimics and thorny stick insects she loves measure close to 7 inches long. The insect world, so often feared and misunderstood by others, is her palette.

This unusual combination of art and entomology represents not only a creative statement but a representation of the world. Angus’s exploration of patterns uses humor and wit to explore the contradictions of life: scientific vs. unexplained, elegant vs. terrifying, order vs. chaos.

Angus, associate professor of textile design at the School of Human Ecology, didn’t set out to be an insect ambassador, but patterns have always been her true love. She recalls digging through a childhood dress-up trunk for a favorite silk skirt, covered in butterflies. When she twirled, the skirt would float up, making the butterflies fly around and around in a continual flow.

“Pattern appeals to everyone, but particularly children,” says Angus. “There’s something comforting about it.”

Angus explored patterns in her studies of textiles, traveling around the world to examine traditional fabrics. She first encountered the idea of insects in Thailand, where she discovered a garment embellished with green metallic beetle wings.

“Growing up in Canada, everything was black, brown, white,” Angus says. “I never considered insects beautiful. But I did more research and found other groups that used them as embellishments on headdresses, ceremonial garments and other things.”

As she studied in Japan, groups of children congregated near her studio. She found herself dressing up insects to entertain them: stag beetles in kimonos, dung beetles as sumo wrestlers. But when she combined the beauty of insects with the crisp, formal control of patterns, she knew she had found her niche.

“I thought, ‘Wow, this is it.’ You see a pattern — an interior space — but when you see it’s actually insects, there’s this tension created right away.”

Her work has been shown throughout the United States and Canada in solo and group exhibitions. It has also been covered by the New York Times, arts magazines and broadcast media. She currently has an exhibition at the Belger Arts Center in Kansas City, Mo.

Visitors are often stunned at the size, color and variety of the elaborate patterns and inevitably wonder if she has altered them in any way.

Viewing these amazing creatures up close allows visitors to appreciate the richness of species other than our own. At a little more than an inch long, the bright blue and green stripes of a weevil still stand out against the charcoal body. The stripes look painted-on, like a plastic critter found in a toy store bin.

These exhibits are no easy task to produce. One exhibition alone can use up to 12,000 insects. Fifteen types of katydids, cicadas, grasshoppers, stag and dung beetles, and the ever-present weevils must be individually pinned to walls using plumb lines and circular templates. Hanging can take nearly 100 hours of work by four people, as Angus typically uses several volunteer assistants.

“It has to be people who understand symmetry — you’d be surprised how many people don’t — and who are meticulous, anal by nature,” says Angus. “Some people see insects and say, ‘There are so many; if I break one it’s no big deal.’ Then I say, ‘OK, maybe this isn’t the thing for you.’”

Indeed, her insects aren’t just an anonymous swarm. Like humans, each insect is unique; females and males may look like completely different species, while different sizes, shapes and colors add to the challenge of forming symmetry. She re-uses them again and again, regluing fallen-off legs and placing damaged ones high up where the imperfections can’t be seen.

Reuse isn’t the only way she remains conscious of the environment. None of her insects are endangered — by a long shot. Most insects reproduce at a tremendous rate; moreover, many of the large, highly prized insects that she favors for their showy colors are farmed, often by indigenous people who earn a living catering to collectors.

“Insects are a renewable resource. What’s not renewable is their environment. I guarantee you something close to home is endangered because of urban sprawl or congestion.”

In an about-face from the natural materials she uses in her own studio, she does much of her teaching in a computer lab, using programs like Photoshop and an industry-specific application called Euphoria. She teaches everything related to dyeing, printing and repeated patterns.

Angus enjoys her role as envoy for a world too often misunderstood. She aims to take the hysteria out of the human relationship with the insect world, particularly when so much of what we see and consume — pollinated plants, waxes and dyes, even lacquers — exists because of our relationship with insects. By increasing our curiosity, she hopes to remind us of the hidden wonders all around.

“We’ve ceased to be amazed — unlike childhood, where everything is amazing. On the other hand, since I work with these all the time, I don’t get to experience that amazement, so I live vicariously through others.”

Her work is a reminder to keep fascination alive in a fast-paced world. “I hope someone walks into my exhibition and says, ‘Wow, I’ve never seen anything like this before.’ That’s my job done, right there.”