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In 2006, I set out to paint a study of a gardenia bloom—and discovered that it was occupied!

At the time, I was just starting to paint. Most of my work had been drawing and illustration, and I was still thinking very much inside the box when it came to “serious” painting subjects. One book I read listed only three categories: landscapes, botanicals, and human figures. Not a single animal painting appeared in its pages. I assumed that the animal artists I admired—Charles R. Knight comes to mind—were considered illustrators rather than painters. (I know much better now.)

I decided to try a botanical study of a gardenia bloom from a shrub in front of the house. But once I got it onto the kitchen table, I noticed the sprig was the residence and nursery of a lime green jumping spider.

I’ve always been far more interested in animals than plants, and this was something I had never seen before. On closer examination, I discovered she was guarding her nest—a flat silk patch like a small blanket attached to the underside of a leaf. Gardenias have very waxy leaves, so could function as an efficient umbrella. I quickly finished my study, then carefully wired the gardenia sprig (with its small passenger) back onto the bush. 

I learned two things from that incident. I learned that the spider was a Magnolia green jumper (Lyssomanes viridis), common in the southeastern United States. More importantly, I realized that, to my eyes, no flower—no matter how beautiful—could compete with something as fascinating as a green jumping spider. Ever since, I’ve taken my animal painting seriously.

I still have that painting.