Psyche and I continued our late, late night conversation regarding her collection of insect rings. The first part can be seen at this link.

C : So, do you find it easy to disconnect from these collected items once they’ve been yours?

P : I guess I don’t consider it a disconnection! When I pass an object along to a person I love, I feel like it’s always going to be where I want it to be and it means a lot more because it’s not just my secret, in a little wooden box under my bed.

C : That’s an especially positive way to look at ‘collecting’. Almost zen - things are just passing through. I wish I could look at my Batman action figures that way, but I also see them in a me-run museum someday, to share with people and as a testament to sculpture and illustration and literature.

P : That’s what draws my attention in the first place! I love that these objects have a history. I don’t feel like that history is supposed to halt in my hands. Of course, I have my favorites and they’re a lot harder to let go!

C : I think I remarked something similar recently about the square dancing records I acquired. They have an intense history and I feel like I’m just a temporary custodian. But the 2-foot tall Darth Vader? Not so much emotional connection, but I’d be even more hesitant to ever let him go.

P : I don’t think I would find my rings (or most of the things I collect) anywhere near as alluring if each did not have its individual story, its questionmark! I love to wonder who and how many wore my pieces before I found them. That sort of sharing and recycling is so beautiful to me.

C : So, you have a variety of collections, yes?

P : I do! They usually happen sort of organically - I find myself drawn to an object because of its form or color or WHATEVER, and before I know it, I’m hunting on eBay or in all the local antique shops for items that make me feel something similar.

C : That’s a great way to articulate it. I usually find myself really attracted to a singular thing and suddenly I become obsessed with continuing and replicating the FEELING of it. It makes me feel less guilty about the process of acquisition. So, yeah, eBay and trawling foreign websites until I find some odd thing that I need to use a currency converter to figure out.

P : It’s a really interesting process and in a lot of ways it’s ABOUT the hunt. A piece becomes more special if it was particularly hard to find. You dig up information and history and ideas and suddenly your object has a LIFE. Then it’s really hard to stop.

C : Any examples of things that evoke these same feelings, besides your creepy bug rings?

P : Some of my friends and I send postcards through the mail - not the same thing as my rings, even more personal in a lot of ways, but similar. Aside from that, I collect too many little things to list. I LOVE charms and trinkets and miniatures, I collect vintage headscarves, hat boxes, melamine dinnerware. I just want my life to be colorful. I want my things to be and feel significant, and they don’t have to cost a lot of money to do that (my dishes cost a lot less than if I’d gotten them new). I don’t see a point to buying things because I NEED them, when I could buy them because I LOVE them.

C : Oh, no - I don’t think that the price of things gives them value. It’s the love behind them. The price is just a good backup in case of emergencies. And hunting thrift stores has a lot more charm than trying to edge out Scalper Barry at the local Wal-Mart to get the new Giant Man figure.

P : Totally! The hunt is a huge part of my life and it’s one of the few things I’m certain that I’d like to pass down to my kids, if I have any. I love that we can recycle AND expand our own lives with objects that are so rich and layered and interesting.

C : I’m going to say that you were wearing a monocle and sipping tea with gloved hands, and that at least ONCE you slapped the help.

P : No, add little comments like “Psyche takes a sip of her tea, pushing a strand of silky hair out of her sultry eyes and smiles, translucent pink lips curling seductively as she continues.”

C : “A single silent snowflake fell between us, though we were indoors and it was April. I know not from whence it came, but that’s part of her magic.”

And with that, the clock nearing three AM, Psyche took her leave. Ghosts fluttered nervously as she stood and departed the room, and I was left with my depleted inkwell and quill pen, desperately trying to make sense of the past hours.

It wasn’t too long ago that I made the acquaintance of a girl named Psyche. Yes, ACTUALLY named Psyche, because her parents gave birth to her during a brief period while they were visiting here from Venus. Scientists later found her birth-pod, nurtured her in an enormous and haunted Victorian mansion, and eventually set her loose upon the world, deeming that she couldn’t possibly do us TOO much harm. What does this ethereal creature do with her time among us Earthlings? She collects rings with bugs in them, for one thing.

Collectors of bugs can easily purchase lucite-encased specimens from any reputable retailer of insect ephermera, and usually at cheaper prices than it would cost to properly pin-mount the insect. Lucite is an inexpensive material, and it will preserve the insect in an airless, perfectly visible space with far more protection. It’s the leap of wearing these on rings that loses most people.
I digitally cornered Psyche, one rainy night, and gave her an inquisition regarding her curious habits. My interest in various bugs has been noted here before, and I’ve rarely met a girl who isn’t immediately repelled by anything with more than 4 legs. I’m sure they exist, they usually just evade my notice. Surrounding herself with the unusual, the thrillingly awkward and the grandma-thrift-store chic, we spoke.

Collin : Okay, miss, can you describe the origins of your particular collection of bugs in lucite… on rings?

Psyche : I guess it started because of my obsession with miniatures - I’ve always loved lockets & secret compartments. I began to research lucite jewelry because of all the suspended flower jewelry floating around. My searches soon led to much more interesting pieces - ants, beetles, spiders, crabs… and I became sort of obsessed.

C : Is there some kind of emotional reason to collect these, or is it just the fact that they’re really neat?

P : I kind of see them as tiny wearable art - little scenes that I can carry around with me all day. There’s a bit of magic involved, similar to the way I used to feel as a kid when I’d shake a snowglobe - AND because they’re really neat & make me seem like a total creep goth child. My favorite one and the only one I’ve paid serious money for is a yellow dome ring with a clear top - there’s a tiny crab, a shell, and sea grass. It makes me so nostalgic. I could stare at it all day.

C : Do you think that the frozen-in-time, can-never-be-touched thing is part of that magic?

P : Certainly! Especially when we’re dealing with dead bugs. I don’t think i’d be nearly so enthusiastic if there was a possibility that I’d have to TOUCH one of them!

C : Are you generally repulsed by bugs and arthropods?

P : I’m not repulsed - I find their forms completely fascinating, but I much prefer to observe from afar. I don’t want them crawling on me.

C : Now, to collect these things, have you made any strange emotional or financial sacrifices? Any unreal encounters? I can’t imagine that these would be normal people you’d be dealing with.

P : Sacrifices, no. Thankfully, hard as they can be to find, they’re also not widely sought after, so they’re generally pretty cheap, small & in all ways harmless.
I wish I had a scary-bug-lady story to share. Most of my weird encounters usually occur when I’m wearing these rings. They’re certainly conversation starters.

C : I’ve been known to wear some huge, clunky Marvel Comics lenticular rings that people notice. You can watch Bruce Banner turn into the Hulk.

P : Then you know! I enjoy the comments, but not so much when my cashier starts to scream about the repulsive creature on my index finger. It’s like “Lady, it can’t hurt you! It’s dead and has spent the last 30 years encased in lucite. What more do you want?”

C : So they’re completely impractical, like most things that people collect. Do you ever find anyone criticizing the fact that you collect things?

P : Not really, thankfully. Some of my collections do get a bit out of hand and I’m able to limit myself if it comes to that, but most of the time I just sort of see my collections as little assortments of treasures. I imagine someone else getting a kick out of them 20 years from now. Now someone owning ONE bug ring would be a little weird. A hundred makes sense! I don’t collect just for the purpose of hoarding things. I love the idea of always having something special and unique and intimate to give to the people in my life, tomorrow or next year, or in fifty years.

C : Is there some kind of ‘holy grail’ item that you’re always looking for?

P : It’s all about variety. Flowers, shells, and ants are the most common embedded objects. I’d love to find some really unusual things/creatures, or at least a few more rings that do to me what my favorite does - that become their own little worlds and take me with them!

C : That’s very generous. I don’t think that materialism and ‘having more’ plays into the minds of people who really love what they collect.

P : No, I don’t either, but I LOVE to give, to share my self with the people I care for, and I’ve always collected in part to assuage my fear that I’ll run out of something, and that i won’t be able to demonstrate that part of myself any longer.

Psyche graciously provided all of the photographs seen here, and her and I went on talking for some time about the nature of collecting, how to capture and freeze parcels of time, and the quantum mechanics of the human soul. Please stay tuned for the continuation of our conversation!

I’m probably the worst bug collector that’s ever walked the Earth.

Many amateur entomologists channel their love of bugs into formaldehyde jars and carefully prepared Riker mounts and pins and tiny labels, but I’m just not that meticulous. You can find my large collection of insects in a 50-drawer trinket chest, various old spice jars, tupperware containers and ring boxes. All of this is kind of cluttered into one corner of my room, which I’ve dubbed the ‘Anti-Girl Zone’. For some reason, this is absolutely repellant to many fine young ladies, but when forced to make the choice between a thousand enthralling insects or hearing about the wonders that a good pedicure can do, I choose the bugs.

The trinket chest is labeled, each drawer with a different kind of insect. Of course, my knowledge of insects is once again tested and mocked, while bug collectors everywhere cringe at my ignorance. I’ve been able to identify some of the bugs, and have white labels affixed to the drawers with the scientific names, like ‘nicrophorus tomentosus’, but those are fairly interspersed with labels like ‘mystery attack beetle!’ with a little picture of a beetle holding a knife, because that beetle was a total jerk. Labels like ‘probably not a ham’ and ‘WTF?’ don’t really serve anyone but me. Websites like What’s That Bug? and, surprisingly, the Entomology community on Livejournal are extremely helpful. How else would I have known that a toxic Yellow Sac Spider was living in my hallway? I didn’t need those hours of nervously lost sleep anyhow.

My collection is an eclectic one, as my moral code prevents me from killing anything. I can’t spy a beautiful insect in nature, capture it, rob it of its life and keep it around just to ogle. Something about that doesn’t sit right with me. I don’t do that with women, I’m not gonna do it with bugs. So, what I’ve collected comes from sun-baked windowsills and floating in backyard pools. I’ve also found a few acquaintances who have learned to regard bugs as ‘collectibles’ and help me along by saving what they find. Of course, these bugs are certainly not in the same good condition they’d be in if I stole them from the green grasses of the wide world, little circulatory systems still churning along, and popped them into my collection. I’ll take what I can get, though.

The bugs often get incorporated into artworks, which is the main reason for collecting them, even though the science is also pretty enthralling. They’re excellent models for photographs, since they don’t squirm around and you don’t have to pay them, and they’re also very interesting additions to still life drawings and paintings. There’s something about their little exoskeletons and jointed appendages that also appeals to my love of all things robotic.

I’ve collected the enormous cecropia moth, cicadas of both the green and black varieties (as well as cicada-killer wasps), the greater part of a mantis, countless moths, beautiful ebony beetles, cockroaches, spiders and anything that lives in the lower-upstate NY area. I appreciate carefully prepared collections of butterflies, pressed under glass, and maybe one day I’ll make the effort to properly preserve these little guys before the dreaded dermestid beetle gets to them. Bug lovers everywhere probably hate me.