“Polyphemus Moth,” an original painting copyright Susan A. Walton, S. A. Walton Studio, Hudson, Florida.

Artist’s note :

This artwork was painted in acrylics on mulberry bark paper, a paper traditionally made by indigenous people from Central America for ages, before the craft was nearly forgotten. At some point the tradition was revived to improve employment locally, and then someone got the idea of exporting it as a “new” product for artists.

I acquired some of this paper well before the product became popular, and wasn’t sure how I would use it. It was almost too lovely to paint on, beautifully swirled as it was. It isn’t as heavy as watercolor paper usually is, but the fibers are longer, and very strong. I feared it might warp or buckle, as watercolor papers can, but it isn’t as absorbent as cotton, and did not buckle- at least not in an unattractive way. It has just enough play about the plane of the paper that you can tell it is handmade with great care, and is not perfectly flat from being churned out with mechanical, indifferent precision. In other words, it still has some spirit to it.

When well made, it is as archival as cotton, and even the light tan version of the mulberry paper in my drawer for over 30 years has shown no signs of foxing or discoloration of any kind.

Unfortunately for artists like myself, once the product became a moderately successful export, that success reignited interest in it among artists back in its homeland, becoming a fad, and now the demand exceeds nature’s ability to supply.

The craft of making it had once nearly been lost as the elder craftspeople passed away, taking their knowledge with them, but was saved at the last minute in an effort to improve a local economy, and while that was good, the increased demand that followed, could not be sustained by the existing trees, without the wiser management practices of the elders. Suddenly, everybody with or without experience became interested in harvesting and selling bark, and some didn’t concern themselves with how that would affect the trees and impact how much could be harvested the next time. Some of the newer generation, in a hurry to make some money, also lacked interest in setting aside some of what they earned to plant more trees, and it is probably that a lot of people didn’t actually own the trees from which they took the bark, and therefore had no interest in putting in work tending to them on land that wasn’t theirs. Perhaps that was because they didn’t see the point if the plantings couldn’t immediately be used, or if the plantings could be protected from poaching. Whatever the reason, overexploitation began weakening and killing the larger trees.

Now, the paper in this solid, high quality form just isn’t available. Most of what is made now is thinner, more like a loose mesh with large holes, and unsuitable as a painting surface. It is still highly desirable for the revived traditional paper crafting uses, where it is used more like people would use felt, and most of what is available isn’t exported any more. You may still find a little in markets while vacationing, but I suspect the old paintable solid sheets are only to be found in old artists’ desk drawers or estate sales.

Perhaps the people who do recently learned to make, it can apply their skills using an alternative source of fiber, such as an invasive plant species. Then their traditional artists can continue using the local mulberry paper, while outside demand can be met with a similarly made product based on a sustainable species, and still bring the locals a good income.

Anyway, back to the painting. The main reason I chose to use the mulberry bark paper was because the polyphemus moth is a species of giant silk moth (Saturnidae) native to the parts of the United States. When we think of silk moths, that brings up the topic of mulberry trees, because the familiar silk moth from whose silk fabric is made feeds on mulberry that is grown in great plantations to support the silk industry in Asia. There was even an attempt to commercially grow mulberry and Asian silk moths here in the US. So even though the native polyphemus isn’t the same species of moth raised to make silk cocoons for textiles, and even though the mulberry used for bark paper is unlikely to be the same species as grown in China, I still thought putting them both together was a good match, if only for fun.

In this case, while looking at the bark paper and wondering what would best go with it, it occurred to me that the colors and patterns of the polyphemus moth would be a perfect fit for the swirling, burl like patterns of the bark on this dark paper.

It has been my habit since childhood of finding creatures like caterpillars and learning about them by raising them. Thankfully, I had a mother who loved learning and was tolerant of me bringing such things home and attempting to raise them for study because she was as curious as I was.

While a little leery of snakes, she was fine with me raising fish or insects in aquariums, so long as I released them later outside. My folks bought us chemistry sets, microscopes and field guides for Christmas, and my mom, when driving school kids on field trips to area museums, sometimes had enough money to buy experiment kits or rock samples and bring them home for us. They took us to the right places to get supplies for our crazy science projects or entrepreneurial endeavors, and always encouraged us in every way to experiment and learn, even when there was a good possibility of things getting messy, or of things going awry.

Having hundreds of moths needing armfuls of leafy branches day after day, munching and producing quite a lot of frass before finally spinning their silk cocoons and pupating in them all winter in my room, while not a mistake, was certainly a little messy. Thank God my parents were enthusiastic lifelong learners, or growing up would have been very dull.

Curiosity never faded, so even now I take the opportunity to raise caterpillars and such whenever I can, and this particular moth was one raised in my studio when I first came to Florida and found a couple very large, green caterpillars breeding on a red maple tree. They ended up in an aquarium with a steady supply of food and safety from parasitic wasps or other dangers, and I was able to watch them spin their cocoons, then wait to see how they would emerge from them after winter was over.

It was worth it to see what the cocoons looked like when discarded - usually the cocoons blend in so well outdoors that they are completely overlooked, but when you watch caterpillars making them right before your eyes, you will spot them in odd places the rest of your life, and also have an excuse not to quickly rake up leaves in the fall and ruin things for a lot of extraordinary animals.

I was able not only to see the moths emerge, position themselves, and pump up their wings to their full glory, but I was also able to witness the new moths meet and mate. The female moths then lay their eggs, and so, I was able to witness all stages of their life, and see them all graduate with wings like these.

Those wings come at a cost. The moths emerge without the ability to eat. The sole job of this species at this late stage of life is to meet, mate, and do it quickly before their bodies’ energy reserves are depleted, so it is a bittersweet thing.

I may never be called on to illustrate their life cycle, but if I ever need to do so, there is nothing quite as good as having a life reference. Or in this case, a hundred real life models. (They lay a lot of eggs.) These biology projects get photographed and notes are taken for later use, and added to my files.

Sometimes, these records see the light of day again if an idea for a painting comes along. Sometimes, I just pull them out to show the kids that visit.

—- Susan Walton