Mimesis — the imitation of life in art and literature — is a concept most often associated with hyper-realistic paintings or crime fiction that feels “ripped from the headlines.” But what if, rather than merely imitating life, art could contain life?
This question finds an intriguing answer in the small, nearly imperceptible presence of a grasshopper immortalized in Vincent van Gogh’s Olive Trees (1889). Discovered by curators at the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art in Kansas City, Mo. while scanning Van Gogh’s painting, the insect is embedded in the paint so subtly that it can only be seen under a microscope. Despite its size, this spring-heeled creature remains a permanent fixture in Van Gogh’s work, forever basking in the painted shade of post-impressionistic trees.
This fossilized grasshopper is the title inspiration of New Brunswick poet Michael Pacey’s 2024 poetry collection, Van Gogh’s Grasshopper. Pacey’s 50 poems invite readers to reconsider the world of insects, from the fluttering butterflies in summer skies to the carpenter ants that nest in the woodwork of homes. But Pacey does more than simply describe the bugs around him — he imbues them with life, elevating these creatures into poetic beings that are alive within the world of his poems.
For Pacey, insects aren’t just a passing fascination — they’re a deep, lifelong obsession. He grew up roaming his backyard, captivated by ants, worms and butterflies. His parents were convinced that he would become an entomologist — a person who studies insects. Little did they know Pacey would find a unique way to put bugs under a microscope. In his poem “Entomology,” Pacey describes the leap from studying insects to writing about them as being “as easy as it sounds” — from “entomology to etymology.”
What I find so striking is Pacey’s ability to reframe my perspectives on bugs. I know I’m not alone when I say that I don’t love bugs. I’ll gladly squash a spider on my wall or chase a fly around my apartment, desperate to silence its infuriating buzz. I’m not the type to pick up a worm from the sidewalk or admire the earwig that greets me right before I step into the shower. But Pacey makes me think of these critters differently; he grants them a surprising dignity.
Take his poem “Mayflies,” for instance. If you’re unfamiliar with Mayflies, let me paint you a picture: long cylindrical bodies, six legs, two pairs of wings, green or brown…you get the picture. You might think of them as the annoying little mites that buzz around your head; but when Pacey describes their wings as “inwrought lace” and “slick as silk; unwrinkled/as milk, full of light/like honey,” you’re suddenly not just swatting away another pest — you’re seeing the intricate beauty of something so easily dismissible.
This brings me back to that small grasshopper forever entwined with Van Gogh’s art. According to University of Kansas paleo-entomologist Michael Engel, who studies fossil insects, the grasshopper had already died before it was embedded in the canvas.
What once was a fleeting life has become immortalized in art.
Pacey does something similar with his poetry. He gives life to Mayflies, spiders and beetles, transforming them into creatures with a new existence through poetic phrasing and imagery. Though not all of Pacey’s poems cast insects in a positive light — he doesn’t hold back in his description of ants nesting in his walls — the care with which he translates their physical forms into vivid language brings these creatures into the literary world, giving them a kind of afterlife.
In an interview with Matt Rainnie on CBC’s Mainstreet PEI, Pacey discussed a process called defamiliarization — a metamorphosis of the mundane into something brand new. He likens it to the way children see the world, as curious investigators who are constantly amazed by what adults might overlook. Through Van Gogh’s Grasshopper, Pacey aims to bring readers back to this state of childhood wonder, encouraging us to rediscover the beauty in the things we no longer notice as adults. Pacey’s collection invites us to see the world of insects through new eyes — eyes that see more than just pests and annoyances, but complex beings with their own stories to tell. In Van Gogh’s Grasshopper, insects are more than just life imitated; they are life reimagined, transformed and preserved in the art of poetry. Through Pacey’s careful attention to these tiny creatures, he grants them a new life, one that will endure long after reading the poems.
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