Fingers In The Sky

Fingers in the Sky
From the Lost Drawings Series by Peter Bogdanov
Graphite and ink on bristol board (early 2000s)
Some creatures were never meant to crawl—but this one walks among us.
In “Fingers in the Sky,” Peter Bogdanov imagines a dragonfly not gliding through the air, but standing with surreal authority on six upright human fingers. Each digit functions like a leg—bent, weight-bearing, and unmistakably anatomical. It’s a creature balanced between elegance and unease, as if stitched together from dream logic and symbolic anatomy.
Drawn in the early 2000s and later preserved in The Lost Drawings Series, the piece reveals Bogdanov’s fascination with form hybrids—taking the grace of a dragonfly and grounding it with the intimate familiarity of a human hand. The fingers don’t stretch skyward, they hold the dragonfly up—a subtle reversal of power, flight supported not by wings, but by touch.
The drawing is rendered in meticulous graphite and ink, with the light transparency of wings contrasting the dark, grounded texture of the fingers. The body is delicate. The stance is firm. It's a portrait of something evolved not by nature, but by imagination.
Originally lost in the 2024 hurricane that destroyed Bogdanov’s Florida archive, the piece survives thanks to a preserved digital scan. Its surreal poise now stands as a visual artifact of artistic mutation—one that asks: What if the sky had to stand on us?
To collect “Fingers in the Sky” is to stand at the edge of possibility—where insects walk on fingers and flight is only half the story.