Insects

A swarm of part-insect, part-machine creatures, all iridescent wings, chrome and spines, crawls over a pale ridge under a streaked sky. This is Wiedijk at his most purely visionary, airbrushed and biomechanical, closer to the fantastic realism and airbrushed science fiction of the 1970s than to any hidden meaning. There is no riddle to solve here, only a world to be unsettled by, and that is the value of it: proof that his precision can serve pure invention as readily as it serves a moral.