Abstract painting with dark green, purple, and yellow brushstrokes, with the word 'FIREFLIES' in the center.

The task of a high school term paper first sparked my curiosity about the crepuscular qualities of life. I’ve been interested in bioluminescence, my chosen subject for that assignment, ever since. Only many years later, in 2012, when I first marked several green-orange flecks onto a canvas painted on-site in the early dusk, did fireflies enter the annual accumulative cycle of my painting.

Their appearance that evening coincided with the close attention I paid to a ragged field marked by signs of deer and fox. Fireflies had circled me at other times, in other fields and meadows. But on this evening, there was something inevitable and thrilling about the fireflies’ emergence in the dim light. Their transmitted signals pricked the inked spires of the spruces and rose to mingle with the stars, held in the unusual shapes the trees cut against the deep cobalt sky.

What prompted me to include the fireflies that night, I can’t say. What I do know is that the wonder of the firefly carries the observed, empirical qualities of my paintings into an ecstatic realm, one I might not have otherwise accessed.

I paint three or four canvases each season. My annual engagement at various scales and shapes follows the total lifespan (about four weeks) of that generation of firefly. Painting, after all, is especially well suited to representing both ceasing and becoming.