There is something deeply human about being afraid of spiders — and something equally human about finding them beautiful.
The tarantula sits at a strange crossroads in our psyche. It is large enough to see clearly, slow enough to watch, and covered in a texture that triggers something ancient in our nervous system. And yet — look at one long enough, and something shifts. The velvet of its abdomen. The deliberate grace of its movement. The way it holds perfectly still, as if it knows exactly how much space it occupies in the world.
This is the tension I work with when I create a tarantula shadowbox.
The Psychology of Beautiful, Terrifying Things
Psychologists call it benign masochism — the pleasure we take in experiencing something frightening from a position of safety. Horror films. Roller coasters. The preserved tarantula behind glass.
When the threat is contained — framed, mounted, sealed — the fear transforms. It becomes fascination. The creature that would make you flinch in the wild becomes something you can study, admire, even love. You see the architecture of it. The engineering. The strange, alien perfection.
This is why dark art exists. Not to shock — but to give us permission to look at the things we usually look away from.
The Tarantula as a Symbol
Across cultures, spiders have carried enormous symbolic weight. In West African and Caribbean traditions, Anansi the spider is a trickster god — keeper of stories, master of cunning. In Ancient Egypt, the spider was associated with the weaver goddess Neith, who wove the world into being. In Norse mythology, the web of fate was spun by forces beyond human understanding.
The tarantula carries an additional layer of mythology. In medieval Europe, its bite was believed to cause tarantism — a frenzied, uncontrollable urge to dance. The only cure was music: wild, rhythmic, relentless. The tarantella — one of Italy’s most famous folk dances — takes its name from this creature. The spider that makes you move. The spider that forces you out of stillness.
What Goes Into a Tarantula Shadowbox
Every tarantula I work with has been ethically sourced — preserved specimens treated with the same care and respect I give to every creature that passes through my hands. The shadowbox frames the specimen the way a museum frames a relic — with intention, with context, with beauty. Dark velvet. Ornate frames. Carefully chosen botanical or crystal elements. The back of every box is finished with black velvet, lace, and the Morbid Oddities logo.
The Curator
My tarantula shadowbox — The Curator — is part of the Witch’s Library series. Each piece in this collection takes the name of a role: the keeper of knowledge, the guardian of forgotten things. The Curator felt right for the tarantula. Patient. Precise. Sitting at the centre of its web, cataloguing everything that passes through.
If you have ever felt drawn to spiders — if you have ever stopped to watch one rather than run from it — The Curator was made for you. And if you want something entirely your own, Sophistication is available made to order.
And if you are still afraid? That is fine too. Sometimes the most powerful things we bring into our homes are the ones that ask something of us.