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?

At the top of the composition, a butterfly emerges, but unlike its natural counterparts, it is not made of delicate wings. Instead, it is crafted from the crumpled wrapper of a Skittles candy packet. The bright, artificial hues of blue, red, yellow, and orange, combined with the glossy, plastic-like texture, stand in stark opposition to the three natural butterflies below. These real specimens — Aglais io (the peacock butterfly), Vanessa cardui (the painted lady), and Vanessa atalanta (the red admiral) — are rendered in rich, earthy tones of brown, orange, and muted gold.

The synthetic butterfly dominates the arrangement, positioned above the real ones, almost as if asserting its superiority. It is a fleeting beauty — iridescent and seductive — but ultimately lifeless and disposable. The real butterflies seem overshadowed, threatened by the artificial invader.

Through this composition, the artist critiques the throwaway culture of modern consumption. The Skittles wrapper represents mass-produced pleasure, designed to dazzle with color and promise sweetness, but offering nothing of lasting value. Once the candy is consumed, its remnants become waste, lingering in the environment long after the brief moment of enjoyment has passed.

By placing the artificial butterfly in a position of prominence, Irides mortiferum questions our values: Have we come to prize what is synthetic over what is real? Do we allow the fleeting allure of consumer goods to overshadow the beauty of the natural world? The painting serves as both a warning and a meditation on the delicate balance between indulgence and responsibility.

Below this artificial butterfly, a real one — the pale yellow Brimstone (Gonepteryx rhamni)— rests quietly, pinned as though part of a collector’s display. The piece recalls the practice of butterfly collecting, where specimens are caught, killed, and meticulously displayed in glass cases. However, in this case, the towering paper butterfly is not the one that has perished — it is the predator, the corrupter. Its wings, fashioned from a symbol of mass-produced indulgence, hint at the fleeting pleasure of consumer goods, which tempt us from store shelves, offering sweetness and comfort. But once consumed, the remnants — the wrappers — lose all value and are discarded, often left to pollute nature.

The title inscribed beneath the artificial butterfly, Largitas eversor — a fictitious Latin name — translates roughly to “Abundance Destroyer.” This name plays on the dual nature of the object: the packaging represents indulgence, comfort, and instant gratification, yet once discarded, it becomes waste — permanent, non-biodegradable, and harmful to the environment. Rendered in oil on canvas — a medium historically associated with classical beauty and permanence — the painting elevates a mundane object, turning it into a symbol of excess and destruction. The deep, dark background isolates the subjects, heightening their presence and giving them an almost sacred aura.

Through this fusion of hyperrealism, surrealism, and environmental commentary, the artist transforms a simple candy wrapper into a powerful metaphor for the dangers of mass consumption.

Artwork description: This is a very serious work of art, contrary to appearances, contrary to the impression created by the blaze of colors. It is the Afu!-neral Wreath, or the Wreath of Life, the Wreath of Rebirth. It is a symbol of growth and development, juicy and lush, like in the Garden of Eden. The wreath is woven with lyrics from the 1986 song “There Is a Light That Never Goes Out” by The Smiths. As some say, it is a song about love that allows you to live despite the gray brutality of life. As others say, it is a text about the desire for suicide, which does not come to fruition, because in the face of absolute love, life ceases to matter. So it can last, in its imperfection, because love fills it with beauty, happiness, joy, like flowers filling this wreath with a wealth of forms and colors.