About the Green Anole Drawing
After decades of fieldwork, I have handled and observed thousands of Green Anoles (Anolis carolinensis). Even so, the extraordinary detail of these familiar lizards is easy to overlook. This drawing reflects a deliberate pause to study form, texture, and color—and to recognize the beauty and individuality present in a species many people know simply as a common backyard lizard.
My history with green anoles goes back to childhood. When I was a boy living in Texas, I bought one through the back pages of Boys’ Life magazine. It even came with a “leash”—essentially a bit of fishing line that could be attached to a button so the lizard could ride on your shoulder. At the time, it seemed novel. Looking back, it feels pretty cruel. Like many early experiences with animals, it reflects a stage before fascination matures into understanding and respect.
Years later, when my family visited the Florida Keys, I was struck by how abundant green anoles were. It was not unusual to see four or five on a single bush. In many parts of Florida today, that experience is much less common. The Green Anole is Florida’s only native anole, but it has been strongly affected by the spread of the Brown Anole (Anolis sagrei), a species introduced by humans from the Caribbean in the late 1800s, probably as a stowaway in cargo. Brown anoles have become extremely common and have displaced green anoles from many low perches, lawns, shrubs, and other visible sites, often pushing them higher into trees and vegetation. Green anoles have not disappeared, but in much of Florida they are considerably less conspicuous than they once were.
That change is especially striking because green anoles were once among the defining small reptiles of the Southeast. They are alert, active, visually oriented lizards that communicate through posture, head-bobs, and the extension of the male’s pink throat fan, or dewlap. They can also shift color from bright green to brown depending on temperature, light, stress, and social conditions—a trait that has caused generations of people to mistakenly call them chameleons, although they are not closely related to true chameleons.
Green anoles are excellent climbers and agile hunters. They feed on insects, spiders, and other small invertebrates, moving with quick precision through branches, fences, walls, and leaves. Their large eyes and independent-looking focus give them an appearance of constant alertness, as though they are studying the world as carefully as we are studying them.
In Eye of the Beholder, I wanted to move beyond a conventional wildlife portrait and focus on the luminous eye and intricate mosaic of green, blue, and yellow scales. The extreme close composition transforms a familiar animal into something almost abstract, revealing details that are usually visible only through careful observation, sometimes even requiring a magnifying glass.
The title works in two directions. It refers first to the striking eye of the lizard itself, but it also suggests that beauty often depends on whether we take the time to notice it. Many people overlook green anoles because they are small and common. To me, that makes them even more rewarding subjects. The more closely you look, the more remarkable they become.
Eye of the Beholder is a colored-pencil wildlife drawing of a Green Anole (Anolis carolinensis) by Michael E. Dorcas for Tantilla Art. Reference photograph courtesy of W. W. Lamar.