My Moth-Eaten Artworks

My Moth-Eaten Artworks
By Dzapasi Kilton I.

With reference to the destruction of the fallen angels and the unrepentant sinners among the human family, Scripture has this to say:

Mal 4:1  For, behold, the day cometh, that shall burn as an oven; and all the proud, yea, and all that do wickedly, shall be stubble: and the day that cometh shall burn them up, saith the LORD of hosts, that it shall leave them neither root nor branch. 

How difficult it must be for God Himself to witness the terrible fate of His rebellious children, for He created them out of beneficent love for their goodwill, and as products of His artistic mind, He modeled them in His own image. The destruction of such ones in God’s family therefore leaves a void that can never be filled in our Father’s heart, as He will bid farewell for the very last time ever, to the subjects of His disappointed love. We can hear the echoes of God’s tearful lamentation as He will mourn His most precious created angel, Lucifer, in the following words:

Eze 28:12  Son of man, take up a lamentation upon the king of Tyrus, and say unto him, Thus saith the Lord GOD; Thou sealest up the sum, full of wisdom, and perfect in beauty.

How great the pain of searing loss in the soul of our Heavenly Father – the death of many of His children, who are in His estimation not simply objects or artifacts. These thoughts flooded my mind on the afternoon of 26 October 2026, as I meditated on a similar event, to a very limited degree, in my personal experience that morning.

From the earliest moments of my life, I was gifted with artistic talent that manifested in my ability to draw beautiful portraits with pencils. Perhaps somewhere else, at another time, I will share the identity struggles I met through my art journey, which is a long story. To summarise, my passion and pursuit of value in art led to the username Kilton Draws appearing across all my social platforms.

Since 2021, I have drawn multiple portraits of different people on commission, as well as animals and nature, and produced other imaginary artwork for local competitions and gallery exhibitions. Through some of these, I would get little pocket money when they were bought, but the rest – the huge part of my catalogue – would go unsold and therefore work for marketing on social media, or would have been produced simply to practice new techniques for improving my skills for future work.

Orangutan portrait,  Drawn using Charcoal pencils on white paper.

Nothing among my belongings is as loved as the images that bear my superscription and signature, Kilton Draws. At the end of each artwork, I would apply some spray called Artist fixative, which protects the fresh drawings from dust and smudging, put it in a picture frame only if it was bought, take the photographs of the papers upon which the drawings were made for a digital copy, and then place the papers on the stack where the rest of the collection would be safest from harsh elements. Every now and then, when I passed through the relative’s home where these were stored, one thing was sure: I would retrieve the art collection and spend an eon staring at each of “my children,” a smile stretching from ear to ear because of the memories each unique piece brought.

Because of many other commitments that include University busyness, my catalogue paused its growth. At one point, I spent over a year and a half without drawing or selling anything new. Even now as I write, I have not sold an artwork in two years, and have not picked up my pencils and brushes in a year. Even so, I've always revisited my collection, either in my phone gallery or in person, which is obviously a better experience.

Changes in the house where I stored my drawings also occurred in my absence, and, out of necessity, they were shifted from room to room until they were finally placed in a separate storeroom outside the main house, where there is seldom activity, movement, or attention to monitor them.

Unbeknownst to me, this would become my artwork’s dumping place, where these pieces would satiate the amazing appetite of termites and be devoured beyond recognition!

I last saw my physical drawings in August, when I left the city for my country home for some time. I visited my uncle’s place to go through my prized collection again, and because, at someone’s request, I was looking for the original drawing I had done for him a couple of years earlier. My initial search in the evening was in vain because it was dark. To an extent, the heart desire of the woman in this parable was mine:

Luk 15:8  Either what woman having ten pieces of silver, if she lose one piece, doth not light a candle, and sweep the house, and seek diligently till she find it? 

I had not lost one; I couldn’t find the whole collection, with diverse art pieces numbering in their twenties.  After asking around and waiting for the brilliant morning light, the pursuit began anew. To my crushing disappointment, in one derelict, congested corner on the floor, I saw the edge of one of my drawings. A few steps closer confirmed the heartbreak: all the unframed papers lay beside it, exposed to moths.

O my heart sank as I saw a trail of termite mud tubes reaching forth to my treasure! All the remaining papers were tattered and torn! They had been reduced to termite soil, testifying to their consumption of my work.

Until then, I had not known that I had gloried in my artworks to that extent, perhaps even lifting it to a place of an idol god.

Jer 9:23  Thus saith the LORD, Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom, neither let the mighty man glory in his might, let not the rich man glory in his riches: 

Like Nebuchadnezzar, without voice or words I had been all along unwittingly declaring, concerning the drawings from my desk:

Dan 4:30  The king spake, and said, “Is not this great Babylon, that I have built for the house of the kingdom by the might of my power, and for the honour of my majesty?” 

Below is a picture of the dirty residue of the collection only two months after I had last seen it intact:

Here is this imaginary work when it was still in its pristine beauty:

From the moment of my sad discovery onwards, I had to pray and meditate on it to glean any object lesson from this experience. Then I remembered these verses which rather came as somewhat of a rebuke:

 Jas 5:2  Your riches are corrupted, and your garments are motheaten.

 Isa 51:8  For the moth shall eat them up like a garment, and the worm shall eat them like wool: but my righteousness shall be for ever, and my salvation from generation to generation. 

Then the comforting whisper of my Savior suggested a passage wherein Jesus said:

Mat 6:19  Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: 

Mat 6:20  But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: 

Mat 6:21  For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. 

What a wonderful thing to hear: after all our sojourning in this dark world, there is treasure to be gained, especially for me, who discovered loss today.

This also goes out to everyone who has any possessions, many or few, and is attached to them. All of these are vanity when held on to outside the context of the salvation of mankind. Although it is hard for our nature to let go, it is expedient to know that all our possessions, power, or positions are vanity if we do not use them for the glory of God. No wonder the rich young ruler became sad when he was told by Christ to sell everything then follow Him, so that there would be nothing between his soul and his Saviour.

This most recent experience is not the first time I suffered the devastating theft or ruin of my art portfolios. In my first year of high school, at about 14, someone stole my drawing book. After I sent threatening messages to my classmates, the book was found.

Then, at 16, I was celebrated as the best artist at my school, and I thought to preserve my drawings in a plastic file. Colleagues older and younger would come borrowing the portfolio, and enjoy viewing it in groups. It has always been my pride and joy to show off what I could do with my pencils, pens, or crayons.

I remember when a younger friend in the stream behind borrowed that file. It seems his clumsy hands dropped the file/album into a bucket of water, and the papers got soaked. He tried to pull the wet individual papers out of the plastic pockets to dry them, then left them outside for a few days before telling me. That was the perfect recipe for mold to develop on my paper babies. The non-fungible value of these, only I could tell. When the news reached my unsuspecting ears, I could not help but shed tears and, in passion, tear the moldy, sodden papers and throw them in the bin. I wept for pencil drawings on paper as king David wept at the death of his son:

  2Sa 18:33  And the king was much moved, and went up to the chamber over the gate, and wept: and as he went, thus he said, O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son! 

It is through these individual trials that faults hidden in our hearts are discovered for confession and forsaking. All things work together for our cleansing and perfection. As for me, the wreckage of my artworks and portraits hit a nerve I didn't know existed. While I may not necessarily give up on producing pencil portraits, I have learned to give them their place. There is one portrait of top priority that each of us has to paint:

Christ is sitting for His portrait in every disciple. Every one God has predestinated to be "conformed to the image of His Son." Romans 8:29. In every one, Christ's long-suffering love, His holiness, meekness, mercy, and truth are to be manifested to the world.  {DA 826.3}

Thank you Kilton, for sharing one step in how the Identity War is won