The artist juxtaposes the delicate beauty of nature with the seductive yet deceptive allure of consumer culture. The composition is elegantly arranged, with two real moths — Callimorpha dominula (the scarlet tiger) and Euplagia quadripunctaria (the Jersey tiger)— hovering above a large artificial butterfly fashioned from the crinkled golden wrapper of a Prince Polo chocolate bar.

The golden hues of the wrapper gleam with an almost regal opulence, evoking the allure of luxury and indulgence. However, this artificial butterfly, Aurum Sanguineum — a fictitious Latin name meaning “Bloody Gold” — carries an ominous undertone. The crumpled foil, though shaped like wings, is lifeless, stiff, and incapable of flight. It symbolizes the way consumer products tempt us with their glittering facades, offering instant gratification but leaving behind something empty, discarded, and enduring in its environmental impact.

The positioning suggests a hierarchy — while the moths remain above, the golden imposter dominates the lower half of the painting, asserting itself with its bold, metallic sheen. It is as if the artificial is rising to overtake the natural, an unspoken warning about the direction of human consumption.
The synthetic butterfly is the most striking, drawing attention to the way modern culture elevates artificial pleasures over the quiet marvels of the natural world. The golden wrapper, with its crinkled folds, hints at both luxury and wastefulness, inviting viewers to reflect on the contradictions within consumer habits — how something can be designed to entice, only to be discarded moments later.

Aurum Sanguineum compels us to examine our relationship with beauty, excess, and the consequences of fleeting indulgence. How often do we chase after what dazzles, only to leave behind what truly matters?