Grandiose human achievement isn't really such a mystery: it seems only natural that the puffed-up ego of a pharaoh would demand a pyramid. But how does this size/power equation explain Hagop Sandaldjian (1931-1990), a little-known Armenian professor of violin ergonomics, who created painted sculptures so small they fit inside the eyes of needles?

If this question keeps you up at night, you'd better consult The Eye of the Needle, a slim book issued by the Museum of Jurassic Technology in LA to accompany its ongoing exhibit of Sandaldjian's eccentric sculptures. All the relevant facts about the artist - and even some irrelevant ones - can be found here in Ralph Rugoff's introduction; and the book's 31 color plates offer photographic evidence of Sandaldjian's "microminiature" legacy. Finally, for those who might wonder about Sandaldjian's other career, the book closes with his own very earnest monograph, "A Look into the Ergonomics Method of Violin Teaching."

In Sandaldjian's case, the word "obscure" is an understatement: truly, the man must be one of the most arcane cultural phenomena ever distilled into a book. Rugoff's bio-crit essay (considerably more reverential in tone than his sharp-witted 1995 book Circus Americanus), portrays an outwardly unremarkable fellow obsessed with some very remarkable pursuits. Sandaldjian, who immigrated to Southern California in 1970, was a good family man without any notable vices ... unless you consider his obsession for hunching over a microscope late into the night, painting on a flake of dust with a single sharpened strand of hair.

Sandaldjian's creations - colorful figures poised on or inside the eyes of needles, or painted directly onto split grains of rice or individual hairs - are at the very least amusing, and at their best, profound. Certainly Rugoff's superbly worded rumination on the microminiatures adds to their impact - an impact which in person can only be perceived through a 25x microscope.

One odd aspect of the book, and I suppose of microminiature generally, is that its truthfulness must be accepted on faith. (Art too small to be viewed by the naked eye doesn't play well to skeptics.) Indeed, the possibility that the entire project is an elaborate hoax cannot be ruled out. Sandaldjian's biography (complete with family photos), his ergonomics monograph, and of course his astonishing microminiatures - all are presented with such solemn formality as to seem vaguely suspect; how can things so unlikely be so flatly and earnestly real?