A BUG’S LIFE
From her weatherboarded studio in Kent, Louisa Crispin creates intricate artwork inspired by the marvellous minutiae of the insect world
Louisa Crispin illustrates the oft-overlooked world of insects from her garden studio in Kent
the daily commute is rarely a favourite part of anyone’s routine. Unless, of course, you’re Louisa Crispin, a Kent-based fine artist whose walk to work is a 30-second stroll up the garden path – straight from her back door to a bright and breezy weatherboarded studio. Still, it can sometimes take
her over half an hour to get there. “There’s so much to see,” she laughs. Most would walk by without so much as a second glance at the foxgloves, apricot trees and budding purple-tipped teasels festooning the borders of the cottage garden. But Louisa gets lost in the miniature worlds of her garden residents – always stopping to appreciate birdsong or study a bee in acute detail.
She points out one such creature, bumbling through the air, carrying a piece of clover almost the same size as its body. “That’s a leafcutter bee, which has been buzzing backwards and forwards for weeks,” she explains, watching as the insect descends into a nearby terracotta pot. “There will be eggs in there waiting to hatch. I’ve drawn on the pot, so I don’t accidentally tip out the soil. Unless you really look, you don’t realise these things are going on.” Such close attention to detail is also required when creating works as delicate as Louisa’s graphite sketches, which have been exhibited at the prestigious Royal Geographical Society and Mall Galleries.
The skill, however, didn’t always come naturally to the artist, who first picked up a pencil just seven years ago. Her venture into the art world began as little more than a way to expel creative energy, after leaving a job in insurance to start a family. Initially, her chosen outlet was silversmithing, and she would sketch only to support her jewellery designs. “Every day, I would drop the children off at school, make a cup of coffee and start drawing,” she remembers. Later, she began attending a local art class to learn the principles of illustration. During one such session, she was presented with a seemingly unremarkable lichen-covered branch – her intuitive teacher thought she might enjoy the challenge of drawing it: “The next thing I knew, everyone was getting up to go home – it was three hours later and I hadn’t even drunk my tea. I’d completely disappeared into another world.” That, Louisa says, was the turning point. “Without that stick, I don’t know whether I’d be where I am now,” she says.
After that, Louisa stopped making jewellery and poured all her energy into art, honing her skill through intense practice: “People say I disappear into myself when I’m drawing. I can hear what’s going on around me, but it’s like I’m in a dream. I am absolutely focused and don’t pay attention to anything else.” Still, working from an increasingly cluttered table at home, focusing must have been something of a challenge. “We stopped using the dining room table as the dining room table a long time ago,” she laughs. But in 2014, Louisa finally managed to persuade her husband that it was time for a purpose-built studio in their garden – a fresh, spacious, sacred space where she could sketch without distraction: “My family know not to come up here when I’m drawing, and the cats definitely aren’t allowed in.”
She does, however, share her studio with an extensive collection of insects, dried leaves, teasels, poppy heads and even rabbit skulls, which adorn every windowledge, shelf and tabletop as the subjects of her art. Friends will even deliver bugs they happen to find on walks or windowsills to her door. To most people,
these would be strange presents to receive, but to Louisa they are thoughtful gifts. Then again, most people would be distressed to discover a wasp’s nest in their attic – but not Louisa. “We found the most enormous one in our house last year – my neighbours weren’t impressed,” she laughs. “But that’s where they lay their eggs. They made the entire thing from chewed-up bits of weatherboard – it would have taken months. It’s intricate work, and the nest itself is incredibly tough.”
This encounter inspired Louisa to create a whole series of drawings depicting the unsung insects. She is a loyal wasp defender, although they are not the most beloved of bugs. “People are cruel about them, but they do a huge amount of good. They eat greenfly larvae, clear up all the detritus in the garden and pollinate all the raspberries. It’s not just bees that do it,” she points out. “Bees are used in campaigns because they’re fluffy and cute, so they appeal to people more. But everything you do to save the bees helps other insects, too.” While Louisa continues to champion largely unloved bugs (she’s also a big fan of daddy long-legs), bees remain the subject matter of her most popular works. As a result, she has decided to draw at least one bee a day, posting the results on social media. In doing so, she has married a traditional skill with a modern audience, and garnered much attention for her work: “I’ve sold quite a few bee drawings through Instagram – it’s a big part of my marketing. They tend to sell almost as fast as I draw them, which is exciting.”
Dividing her time between creating art, promoting it online and undertaking all the necessary admin – as well as the extensive networking required to help bolster her work – can be difficult. “I didn’t realise quite how much of being an artist is about networking,” she says. “When I worked at the insurance company, I went into the office, did my work, then went home again – there was no need to reach out to others. In art, it’s critical. No matter how fantastic your work is, if you don’t put it out there, no one will know about it.” Still, despite these minor drawbacks, Louisa’s working day is one that would be the envy of many a nine-to-fiver. She’ll spend an hour or two at her workstation, sketching her much-loved ‘daily bees’ while tuned in to Radio 4’s Today progamme, before enjoying a hard-earned cup of tea in the garden, catching up with the happenings of her tiny tenants and gaining inspiration for her next series of sketches.
At this time of year, alliums and irises provide bright and cheerful focal points. But, when drawing, Louisa is more interested in form and texture than colour – and plants interest her most of all when they recede during the colder months. “It might sound morbid, but I tend to be fascinated by dead things. It’s the process of change that interests me,” she explains, gesturing toward the cow parsley, all delicate white blooms and acid green stems. “It has a continuity even when it dies. In summer, bugs feed on the flowers, then, in winter, birds feed on the seed. When looking at nature, there’s the obvious kind of beauty, like a rose in glorious full bloom. Then there’s the intricate sort of beauty that’s often overlooked.” Notably the artistry that lurks in the most unexpected of subjects – yes, even a wasp.