If you happen to trundle through Chicago's neighborhoods this summer, the spectacle you'll encounter is less about the natural insect world and more a celebration of art and community. An initiative known as "Cicada Parade-A" has taken to the streets of the Windy City, combining the talents of local artists with the intrigue of cicadas in a public art display. The project, birthed by artist Michael Bowman in Baltimore and brought to Chicago through a collaboration with the Insect Asylum, has seen 1,300 cicada sculptures claimed by artists, with around 250 currently dotting the urban landscape.
With sculptures installed in parks, outside homes, and on light poles, Chicagoans are witnessing a different kind of cicada spectacle—one made from plaster, not chitin. Artists bought or adopted the sculptures for $75 or for free, respectively, and personalized them with unique designs, reflecting on the last 17 years of their lives, as reported by the Chicago Sun-Times. Nina Salem, founder of the Insect Asylum, expressed the broad appeal of the project, noting that "People of all ages, genders, backgrounds and ethnicity are embracing this project."
In a merging of nature and fashion, Sophia Catania, an Edgewater-based artist, has found an unusual medium to channel her creativity—cicada carcasses. Catania began her venture during the pandemic, turning her leisurely walks into bug-hunting expeditions and ultimately into a bizarrely beautiful jewelry line. She juxtaposes the natural decay with the opulence of crystals, crafting wearable art that finds a home on her Etsy shop, Crystyleyes, according to a feature by Block Club Chicago. As cicada shells and corpses accumulate in her old stomping grounds, her mother Lisa Catania has become an advocate of her work, inviting neighbors to contribute to her daughter's art supplies.
Both the cicada sculptures and the bug-based jewelry underscore a common theme: a reconnection with the environment and a fresh take on what constitutes art. From Rebecca Zemans, whose narrative of transformation is etched into her cicada sculpture's blue and orange wings, to Catania, whose mental health journey is tied to her bug hunts, it's clear that inspiration can emerge from the most unexpected sources. This approach invites Chicagoans to glance anew at the world around them—an opportunity to see cicadas as more than just a buzzing nuisance, but a source of wonder, as Sophia Catania told Block Club Chicago.
The cicada art installations will remain on view until Labor Day, with the Insect Asylum still accepting requests to help sponsor the project. Whereas the insects have captivated the city in a very literal sense, it's the creative energy of Chicago's community that has taken flight, offering residents a chance to engage with art that buzzes with life—even if its subjects are decidedly still.
