ABOUT: The Killing Jar

These insects are from my father’s collection. I carefully lifted each specimen from his dense display, keeping their original pins intact. The photographs, as with their subjects, remain unidentified, although some are familiar species. These tiny, broken bodies are at once heroic and tragic, defiant and defeated. What is the nature of possession, and how does that conflict with our desire to touch, study, and admire? Why are we compelled to own beautiful things, especially when it means killing them first?