The Story of Amber

Amber is what is commonly called the "fossilized" resin of ancient trees. Actually, "polymerized" resin is a much more accurate description. Heat, pressure and immense time conspire to effect a molecular change in the resin, slowly converting it into a hard stable natural plastic.

When the resin first oozes from an injured tree, it has a consistancy similar to a light honey, flowing slowly over whatever surfaces gravity guides it to. Small objects that by chance fall onto it - bits of plants, pollen, spider webs, small insects and spiders, and other debris - become entrapped in the resin.

Generally speaking, only inanimate objects and very small insects become permanently engulfed. Larger insects, and all larger more robust animals, are able to escape it. But for those caught, a preservation of stunning quality has begun. Thoroughly isolated from atmospheric gasses, decomposition is almost completely prevented.

These photographs are of insects trapped in amber. The youngest among them is Dominican amber, at least 20 Million years old; the oldest is Baltic amber, at least 35 million years old.

To put this timescale in perspective, consider this: The oldest fossil evidence for anatomically modern humans is about 130,000 years old. We think of this as the far distant past, literally - the Dawn of Man. These insects have been exactly as you see them for something on the order of 200 times longer than men have walked the earth. They offer a unique and provocative glimpse into deep Time.

The insects in ambers have uses for science, particularly in tracking the evolution of insects. But for me the appeal is more aesthetic. Often, the insect's final struggles are well-recorded in the visible compression waves surrounding the body and wings. Often, their arrested forms are in strikingly life-like postures: wings deployed as in flight, legs extended for landing. The remarkable detail of body hairs and the descrete elements of compound eyes reflect how total the preservation really is.