I don’t see insects differently than most people: they are insignificant, sometimes comical, and usually annoying creatures in my life.

While I set them up to photograph, however, they begin to transform. Their lives start taking on a new significance. By the time they are shot, they’ve become larger than life icons: the heroic figure of an epic drama; a superstar adored by millions; or the tragic victim of a cruel world. Concurrently, they have all been reduced to the same level, as the cycle of life has completed another turn.

The images in the series are very theatrical. I start with a concept, making sketches and fleshing out the character I want to create. I then start building the tiny sets, which can be from a few square inches to a few square feet in size. Then I go about finding the right character for the part, through (I hate to admit it) the small army of dead bugs I keep on hand. When the star has been found (discovered?), I pose them and light them dramatically - no easy task considering the size.  I assemble sometimes very complex multiple-lighting set ups, using cards and flags to create tiny shafts of light. Finally the stars are ready for their close ups! The final images are shot on film using a 4x5 view camera.

I prefer using the most mundane and readily available bugs - found in basements, windowsills, and sidewalks….  I also strive to see their faces - to look into their eyes, where a life and perhaps a character once lived. And I want to glamorize them, to give them an ambiguous and exciting allure. Some of my bugs end up in gritty burial grounds: dirt, cardboard, the floor...  while others are given a rather more glamorous send-off, with all the pomp and glitter of Hollywood.

Perhaps their faces and expressions do contain the echoes of untold epic tales, or perhaps, in the end, each of them is simply a dead bug.