Fungi are one of my favourite subjects. In the same way that progidies blossom early and die too young, so too they seem to compensate for the brevity of their lives by the perfection of their structure at birth. Yet unlike the progidy their genius seems to have no purpose, they are things simply for themselves, most needing no living assistance to propagate. I can understand why smell and taste might be important for their survival but why are they so beautiful?
To my mind a group of fungi always portray a joyousness in the elegance of their lines and their jaunty demeanour, yet all the while they are parasitic and have the most intimate relationship with death. Carved from Red Deer antler, the gills deeply engraved and signed in 22ct gold, this poem of paradox is 3" (7.5cm) high and 1.75" (4.5cm) wide. The thumbnail on the left portrays the fungus at birth, that on the right the evidence of a snails predation where only the gills remain.
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