From the Rocky Mountains to the Chihuahua Desert

We’ve been here just over a week now. So far, we love it. I mean, everything fits and feels good, and we are excited about the future here.

There’s still a lot of work to do, including unpacking, organizing, figuring things out, etc. It’s a process, not an event. We’re on no one’s clock except our own. It’s a wonderful feeling to have a beautiful climate, time to do whatever you want to do, and easy access to most anything you’d need or want. I want to remember how grateful I am for this; I don’t ever want to become desensitized to it. I really appreciate it beyond words.

Jeanne and I trekked out onto some trails behind our house today. We did almost 3 miles and really enjoyed it. There are trails everywhere around here to walk or bicycle on; someone told Jeanne today that there’s one about 2 miles from us that goes south all the way to El Paso, Texas. Wild!

I found myself inspired today by the color and shapes in the desert. I want to paint some of these ideas and start making paint sketches again. And I’m looking forward to getting my darkroom setup again and making some photographs.

Once I’m organized, I’ll begin working on my book again. I really feel like I might be able to finish it this year. That’s my goal. I think with the better environment here, I’ll have more time to devote to it and really make it what I know it can be. About 90% of the writing is complete; it just needs to be edited. And the photography is complete, unless I end up adding anything here. That could happen; I’m not really sure at this point. And I have several paintings that I may include. So, it’s just a matter of carving out time and making it happen. And it will!

We Have Left the Mountain-Hello New Mexico!

I haven’t posted here for over a month for a good reason. We sold our house in the mountains of Colorado and moved to the desert of southern New Mexico!

For the past 6 weeks or even longer, we’ve been packing, selling, giving away, and throwing things away. It’s been a long process, but we are beyond happy that we made the move. We have a beautiful property here (at the base of the Organ Mountains) and the weather is gorgeous! I know it gets hot here in the summer, but we have mitigated for the hot days, no problem.

So why did we move? It’s a fair question. We entered our fourth year there this year. We loved it. We thrived there. Our lives changed for the better. It’s such a beautiful place, too. However, the winters were getting very long and cold. It seemed we chopped and hauled wood 10 months out of the year. The snow came down hard this year too. We had over 40” of snow just two weeks ago and we literally snowed in for four days. You put all of that with the remoteness of the property and you find yourself wanting more freedom for more months of the year. I want to paint, write and do photography. I don’t want to do much else other than spend time with Jeanne doing walks, cooking, and exploring southern New Mexico. I had to shut my studio/darkroom down in Colorado from October to June every year. Here, I can work all year, no problem. We have modern conveniences again, too. We don’t have to drive two hours for groceries or wait a week for a delivery. Super convenient here. I’m really happy about that. Those are some of the reasons we made the change.

We are close to Mexico here and want to travel there often once we’re settled. I have some inspiration for photography and painting, too. We live about 10–12 minutes from a university; I may reach out to them in the future as well. We’ll see. There are a lot of possibilities, which is very exciting for us.

Jeanne snapped this photo of me on our walk today. We live very close to this spot and can see the Organ Mountains from our house—a wonderful sight.

Quinn and Jeanne in Old Mesilla buying green chile and pecans.

Radical Mindfulness Why Transforming Fear of Death is Politically Vital

This is a book by Dr. James Rowe that I would recommend reading if you want to understand what I’m trying to address through my artwork and my life in general (my interests). He is addressing Ernest Becker’s theories and terror management directly. I’ve never seen anyone write about the results of death anxiety applied to politics and modern and historical problems directly. My book will address these theories in detail, but I’ve made it personal. I’ve explained how the theories have driven me both creatively and psychologically.

Radical Mindfulness examines the root causes of injustice, asking why inequalities along the lines of race, class, gender, and species continue to exist. Specifically, Dr. James K. Rowe examines fear of death as a root cause of systemic inequalities and proposes a more embodied approach to social change as a solution.

Collecting insights from powerful thinkers across multiple traditions—including black radicals, Indigenous resurgence theorists, terror management theorists, and Buddhist feminists—Rowe argues for the political importance of seemingly apolitical practices such as meditation and ritual. These tactics are insufficient on their own, but when included in social movements fighting structural injustices, mind-body practices can start to transform the embodied fears that give supremacist ideologies endless fuel while remaining unaffected by most political actors.

Radical Mindfulness is for academics, activists, and individuals who want to overcome supremacy of all kinds but are struggling to understand and develop methods for attacking it at its roots.

Roger Ebert's Dying Words

Roger Ebert (June 18, 1942 – April 4, 2013) was an American film critic, film historian, journalist, essayist, screenwriter, and author. He was a film critic for the Chicago Sun-Times from 1967 until his death in 2013. I used to watch and read his reviews of movies. Generally speaking, I agreed most of the time with his critiques. Sometime ago, I heard that Roger Ebert’s wife, Chaz, talked about Roger’s last words. He died of cancer in 2013.

“Life is but a tale, told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”

— Shakespeare’s “Macbeth.”

Clem Snide released an album called "Forever Just Beyond." The lead track on the album, “Roger Ebert,” is especially arresting. The late film critic's wife, Chaz, recalled Robert Ebert's final words in a letter to her, which served as the basis for the lyrics. As the song puts it:

Did you know these were Roger Ebert’s dying words?

It’s all an elaborate hoax

It’s all an elaborate hoax

There is a vastness that can’t be contained

Or described as a thought in the flesh of our brain

It’s everything, everywhere, future and past

Dissolving forever in an eternal flash.

It’s all an elaborate hoax

It’s all an elaborate hoax

Chaz Ebert wrote, "The one thing people might be surprised about—Roger said that he didn’t know if he could believe in God. He had his doubts. But toward the end, something really interesting happened. That week before Roger passed away, I would see him, and he would talk about having visited this other place. I thought he was hallucinating. I thought they were giving him too much medication. But the day before he passed away, he wrote me a note: “This is all an elaborate hoax.” I asked him, “What’s a hoax?” And he was talking about this world and this place. He said it was all an illusion. I thought he was just confused. But he was not confused. He wasn’t visiting heaven, not the way we think of heaven. He described it as a vastness that you can’t even imagine. It was a place where the past, present, and future were happening all at once."

“Circles, Squares, and Triangles,” 3.75” x 5” acrylic and charcoal on paper.

Life as a Balancing Act

I’m sitting in a motel room at 0600 in Las Cruces, New Mexico, as I write this. I’m down here looking for a property that Jeanne and I can call home for a while.

It’s nice here. It’s a small, “big” city. When I arrived yesterday at 2 p.m., it was 70F (21C) and sunny. It was wonderful driving around with my windows down in the middle of February! It’s close to Mexico, too. We like that (I know it’s scary to some people; we’re not that way). We hope to be here in the first week of April. I’m excited about the idea of not going through another high-altitude winter. Even saying that makes me warm ;-)

As I contemplate these properties and what we want in a home and property, it reminds me of the balancing act of life itself. How many chances do you take? Do you ever roll the dice and see what happens? Or do you always play it safe? There are no definite answers; like most things in life, it’s dependent on the individual. We’re all different, with different needs and different worldviews. I do know that for every advantage, there is a disadvantage. You have to weigh these factors and come up with a solution where you find the advantages more important than the disadvantages. In other words, nothing is perfect, and you always have to compromise. That includes our lives and the situations we are faced with—specifically, our mortality. Make the most of every day. Take some chances, do something different, and feel alive; we only get a short time here; make the most of it. Try to show love to the people that are important in your life, have gratitude every morning you wake up, be in awe of nature, and humble yourself enough to see your cosmic insignificance. It helps, and it puts every day above ground in perspective.

Wish me luck. I’m headed back to Colorado tomorrow. We hope to make an offer on a property here today. We’ll see what happens.

Existential Distress No. 3

“If you kill a cockroach, you are a hero, if you kill a butterfly, you are bad. Morality has aesthetic standards.”

— Nietzsche

Isn’t it strange that we all have to deal with our ending? Some try to never think about it and will do almost anything to avoid thinking about it. Others incorporate it into their personal belief system or religious beliefs (Buddhists, for example). While I’m not "religious,” I’ve made an effort to think about my mortality every day.

For me, art drives that type of meditation or thinking. I do a lot of it on my daily walks, too. Knowing that I’m going to die and that I have limited time here brings me closer to the things and people that I love and care about. It comforts me and reassures me of my humanity. It provides a type of gratitude, awe, and humbleness. And it puts my perspective in balance—my cosmic insignificance is in full view.

The reason I do it is simple: it reminds me to take every day as a gift. It makes the sweet sweeter and the bitter not so bad. It’s not morbid or neurotic; it’s valuable and important for me; it’s a very positive thing, nothing negative at all. C. S. Lewis said, “If you look for truth, you may find comfort in the end; if you look for comfort, you will not get either comfort or truth, only soft soap and wishful thinking to begin, and in the end, despair.” That resonates with me. I’m a truth-seeker. I try to keep my worldview based on reality, and I try to avoid fantasies and fiction.

When was the last time you thought about not being here? What did you feel? Did it make you uneasy? Create anxiety? If it did, do you know why?

Existential Distress No. 1 and No. 2

“The neurotic opts out of life because he is having trouble maintaining his illusions about it, which proves nothing less than that life is possible only with illusions.”

― Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death

Existential Distress No. 2," 5" x 3.75" acrylic, charcoal, and oil (mixed media) on paper.

From (Straight) Photography to Abstract Painting

I’ve had some interesting discussions lately about my departure from making photographs. I suppose it was a bit surprising for the people who don’t know me very well to see me posting paintings and not photographic prints. I’d say for the ones that know me better, it's not so surprising.

How and why did I move in this direction? I have to start out by saying this wasn’t an accident, not in the traditional sense anyway. I’ve been (slowly) moving in this direction for at least two years, even longer if I step back farther. Also, when winter hits here in the mountains, my darkroom and studio are shut down (off-the-grid). I decided to paint and write this winter, and that’s what I’ve been doing.

After decades in photography, I needed to explore something more personal and expressive. I would even say painting is more liberating in a lot of ways than photography. I love photography; I will always make photographs, but this project, as well as my need for deeper, more personal creativity, needed something different and something beyond photography (realism or straight representational work).

What is abstract art? I define it as something in the real world that is reduced to it’s minimal parts. Usually bright or non-traditional colors and even distorted shapes. I’ve talked about non-objective or non-representational abstract work before; this is the same idea only using shapes, lines, and colors that are not representational of anything in the real world. I’m interested in both. The interesting rock formations I live near or even the cracks in the dirt paths and roads I travel on—all things that exist in the real world—can inspire me at times. And other times, I’m more interested in non-objective or non-representational work. I call it “psychological abstracts.” Paintings that come from the unconscious or subconscious mind. The unconscious and subconscious are two different phenomena. The unconscious is a process that happens automatically and is not available for introspection. The subconscious is part of our consciousness process that is not actively in focal awareness. These areas are where Becker focused his attention and his theories about existential terror. I’m a bit preoccupied with these ideas and like to see how painting reveals them. Something photography can’t really do.

My latest project, “In the Shadow of Sun Mountain: The Psychology of Othering and the Origins of Evil,” led me to break out the paint and brushes. It was not only the physical attributes but, moreover, the psychological impact of making paintings about our subconscious in relation to existential dread or terror. That’s probably the biggest reason for the direction I’m working in now. I find it both fascinating and powerful to create art from a place that most of us rarely think about. I like to experience a painting reveal itself to me with every brush stroke, mark, or application of paint. It is very empowering and satisfying for me.

After almost 40 years of making photographs and working in all of the mediums, variants, and formats, I simply wanted to explore something more personal. less mechanical and intimate. Painting answered that desire in a profound way. I can say with some certainty that painting will always be involved in my creative process. I really like the combination of the representational idea of photography and abstract painting.

How We Manage Our Fears of Death

This is a really good article that was published on Psychology Today by Jodi Wellman, MAPP. It's worth the read.

How We Manage Our Fears of Death

Terror Management Theory and Mortality Salience.

“Existential Distress No. 1," 3.75" x 5" acrylic, oil, charcoal, (mixed media) on paper.

KEY POINTS

• When we contemplate our mortality, conditions are ripe for terror and dread to potentially fill the void.

• Faced with "mortality salience," we find comfort in worldviews and bolstered self-esteem.

• Death reflection is a productive, experiential way to reflect on our impermanence.

Terror management theory (TMT) is a prominent theory within death studies and is born out of the belief that, as humans, we are wired with a drive for continued existence and enduring value (George & Park, 2014). When juxtaposed against our understanding that we won’t exist forever, conditions are ripe for terror and dread to potentially fill the void (Greenberg, Pyszczynski, & Solomon, 1986).

We manage this disconcerting anxiety in two ways: we subscribe to a particular cultural worldview—a set of shared beliefs and values within an ingroup that provides order and meaning to us—and we also bolster our self-esteem, which is contingent on how well we believe we’ve adhered to the cultural worldviews we’ve adopted (George & Park, 2014).

Terror management theory allows us to suspend the disbelief of death and buy into the notion that some valued part of us will live on forever, even after we die. We might believe that we’ll literally carry on in an afterlife like heaven, symbolically seek to create a legacy through our children, or make a meaningful dent in the world in some way that will continue to exist beyond our time (Burke, Martens & Faucher, 2010).

Mortality Salience­

Mortality salience—the level of awareness we possess that we’re vulnerable to inevitable death (Greenberg, Pyszczynski, Solomon, Simon, & Breus, 1994)—evolved out of TMT to help conceptualize our behavior while we try to overcome our fears of mortality in the face of a deep need to stay alive (Mikulincer, & Florian, 2000). Studies consistently show that the act of pondering our demise causes us to cling more fiercely to our worldviews—whatever they might be—because they are the very constructs that help keep the terror of death at bay (Castano et al., 2011).

When the idea of death is made salient, study participants “double down” on their beliefs and value behaviors that align with their worldviews, while often disparaging others for presenting views that don’t match what they believe to be true (Castano et al., 2011).

Judges reminded of their mortality set an average bond of $455 in a hypothetical prostitution case, for example, compared to an average bond of $50 for the judges in a control group; by punishing others who violated their worldview beliefs, they reinforced their own worldviews to alleviate the tension caused by death priming (Greenberg, Solomon, & Pyszczynski, 1997).

Flashing the word "death" on a computer screen to American research participants, for mere fractions of a second, turned them against an author who criticized the U.S. (Solomon, Greenberg, & Pyszczynski, 2015).

“Choctaw Bingo: Also Known as the Deaths of My Father and Brother,” 5” x 3.75” acrylic on paper.

Individuals interviewed in front of a funeral home had a more supportive of view charities than people who weren’t as interested in making donations interviewed a few blocks out of the range of the mortality prompt (Jonas, Schimel, Greenberg, & Pyszczynski, 2002).

Subtle reminders of death—like seeing an ambulance drive by, watching someone die onscreen, or even seeing wrinkles in the mirror—cause us to distance ourselves from our physicality (avoiding sex and other bodily activities that on some deep level signal that we’re so susceptibly perishable) and we turn up the dial on our symbolic value, like making our achievements, intellect and virtues shine (Solomon, Greenberg, & Pyszczynski, 2015).

Buffering the fear of death

Interestingly, there are ways to buffer ourselves from the angst of mortality salience. Heightened self-esteem reduces one’s worldview defense and has a protective quality against death concerns, as does the feeling of being powerful (Belmi & Pfeffer, 2016). Additionally, Juhl and Routledge’s (2016) research shows that people with high perceptions of meaning in life and people who define themselves as socially connected find themselves exempt from mortality salience anxieties, with no changes to their well-being (as measured by satisfaction with life and subjective vitality).

Encouraging individuals to reflect on their mortality awareness with openness, mindfulness and curiosity has also been shown to have a mediating effect on the guard they put up (Boyd, Morris & Goldenberg, 2017).

Experiencing mortality salience in the right context can ignite moral benefits like increasing tolerance of others and increasing one’s desire to be their best self (Oren, Shani & Poria, 2019); studies show that people (predominantly women) act in more prosocial ways in the week following death prompts (Belmi & Pfeffer, 2016).

Being primed with thoughts of death made study participants more likely to donate money into the future– a powerful demonstration of how inclined we are to want to leave a legacy that lets us live beyond the boundaries of our lifespans (Wade-Benzoni, Tost, Hernandez, & Larrick, 2012).

Reflecting on one’s own death also enhanced the levels of gratitude in study participants, as well as their appreciation of the simple pleasures in life (Frias, Watkins, Webber, & Froh, 2011).

Death reflection

Cozzolino (2006) notes that the typical mortality salience manipulations subjected to research participants represent death in a subliminal, generic, and abstract fashion—many steps removed from a true experience that might actually mimic a near-death experience. An alternative to mortality salience for death priming is a practice called death reflection, which has been found to be a more powerful and experiential way to get people in touch with their own death (Cozzolino, 2006).

Imagining oneself in the midst of an apartment fire—in vivid, graphic detail—elicits different death reactions than playing morbid word games or visiting funeral homes.

The implications of how we are primed to think about death are weighty: Research reveals that when we are exposed to our mortality as an abstract concept (as through traditional mortality salience experiments), we seek support in abstract ways—like bolstering our worldviews and religious and social affiliations. When we are exposed to our mortality in a specific and personal fashion (via death reflection) we derive support from internal resources—like construing goals, finding ways to meet our own needs, and seeking intrinsic growth (Cozzolino, 2006).

Furthering this logic, we’re motivated in different ways depending on whether we’ve triggered our abstract (traditional mortality salience) or specific (death reflection) information processing systems; under the auspice that we take action on things that have the potential to make our goals a reality (Carver & Scheier, 1990), we act in rather constrained ways that succumb to the norms of society when prompted by the abstraction of mortality salience (like driving by the cemetery), and we act in intrinsic, self-determined (Deci & Ryan, 1985) ways when prompted by existentially specific information, like forming plans that draw on our strengths and talents to achieve the goals we want for ourselves—not what our external worldview requires of us to fit in (Cozzolino, 2006).

Death reflection leads to unselfish, intrinsic behaviors (Cozzolino, Staples, Meyers, & Samboceti, 2004). These insights help put TMT and mortality salience research in perspective, and help shape future interventions intended to help people grow from reflecting on the inevitability of death.

References

Belmi, P., & Pfeffer, J. (2016). Power and death: Mortality salience increases power seeking while feeling powerful reduces death anxiety. Journal of Applied Psychology, 101(5), 702-720. doi:10.1037/apl0000076

Burke, B. L., Martens, A., & Faucher, E. H. (2010). Two decades of terror management theory: A meta-analysis of mortality salience research. Personality and Social Psychology Review, 14(2), 155-195. doi: 10.1177/1088868309352321

Carver, C., & Scheier, M. (1990). Origins and function of positive and affect: A control-process view. Psychological Review, 97, 19-35. doi: 10.1037/0033-295X.97.1.19

Castano, E., Leidner, B., Bonacossa, A., Nikkah, J., Perrulli, R., Spencer, B., & Humphrey, N. (2011). Ideology, fear of death, and death anxiety. Political Psychology, 32(4), 601–621. doi:10.1111/j.1467-9221.2011.00822.x

Cozzolino, P. (2006). Death contemplation, growth, and defense: Converging evidence of dual-existential systems? Psychological Inquiry, 17(4), 278–287. doi:10.1080/10478400701366944

Cozzolino, P., Staples, A. D., Meyers, L. S. and Samboceti, J. (2004). Greed, death, and values: From terror management to “transcendence management” theory. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 30, 278–292. doi:10.1177/0146167203260716

Deci, E. L., & Ryan, R. M. (1985). Intrinsic motivation and self-determination in human behavior. New York: Plenum Press.

Frias, A., Watkins, P., Webber, A., & Froh, J. (2011). Death and gratitude: Death reflection enhances gratitude. The Journal of Positive Psychology, 6(2), 154–162. doi:10.1080/17439760.2011.558848

George L.S., & Park C.L. (2014). Existential mattering: Bringing attention to a neglected but central aspect of meaning? In A. Batthyany & P. Russo-Netzer (Eds.), Meaning in positive and existential psychology (pp. 39-51). New York, NY: Springer.

Greenberg, J., Pyszczynski, T., & Solomon, S. (1986). The causes and consequences of the need for self-esteem: A terror management theory. In R. F. Baumeister (Ed.), Public self and private self (pp. 189-212). New York: Springer-Verlag.

Greenberg, J., Solomon, S., & Pyszczynski, T. (1997). Terror management theory and research: Empirical assessments and conceptual refinements. In M. P. Zanna (Ed.), Advances in experimental social psychology (Vol. 29, pp. 61-139). San Diego, CA: Academic Press. doi: 10.1016/S0065-2601(08)60016-7

Greenberg, J., Pyszczynski, T., Solomon, S., Simon, L., & Breus, M. (1994). Role of consciousness and accessibility of death-related thoughts in mortality salience effects. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 67(4), 627–637. doi:10.1037/0022-3514.67.4.627

Jonas, E., Schimel, J., Greenberg, J., & Pyszczynski, T. (2002). The Scrooge effect: Evidence that mortality salience increases prosocial attitudes and behavior. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 28(10), 1342–1353. doi:10.1177/014616702236834

Mikulincer, M., & Florian, V. (2000). Exploring individual differences in reactions to mortality salience: Does attachment style regulate terror management mechanisms? Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 79(2), 260–273. doi: 10.1037/0022-3514.79.2.260

Solomon, S., Greenberg, J., & Pyszczynski, T. A. (2015). The worm at the core: On the role of death in life. New York, NY: Random House.

Wade-Benzoni, K. A., Tost, L. P., Hernandez, M., & Larrick, R. P. (2012). It’s only a matter of time: Death, legacies, and intergenerational decisions. Psychological Science, 23(7), 704–709. doi:10.1177/0956797612443967

Addressing Existential Terror Through Art

“Fiery Lake and Stones,” 3.75” x 5” acrylic on paper.

I’ve written a lot about existential terror. I often forget that there are a lot of people who don’t know what that means. I want to reiterate what this is and why it matters, specifically as it relates to making art.

Another way to express this idea is through terror management theory (TMT). TMT deals with how humans cope with the awareness of their own deaths. That is the crux of the question. How do you cope with the reality of your impending death? If you answered, “I don’t think about it,” you would be in the majority of the population. This is the common answer or response.

“On what level of illusion does one live? This question poses an absolutely new question for the science of mental health, namely: What is the ‘‘best” illusion under which to live? Or, what is the most legitimate foolishness?”

— Ernest Becker, Denial of Death

Here’s why: We (humans) rely on cultural constructs to buffer our fear of death, which we all know is coming, and we never know when or how it will happen. These cultural constructs are as simple as having a spouse (significant other) or children, belonging to a religion or political group, making money, writing books, or even making art. These groups and activities give us a shield, a distraction, or, as Becker calls it, an illusion that allows us to bury (psychologically speaking) the terror of existing and knowing we are going to die. Remember, the fear of death isn’t a concern about the actual dying part; it’s central concern is being forgotten and regretting not living a meaningful life—impermanence and insignificance—that’s the dread or fear we feel.

“Without poets, without artists... everything would fall apart into chaos. There would be no more seasons, no more civilizations, no more thought, no more humanity, no more life even; and impotent darkness would reign forever. Poets and artists together determine the features of their age, and the future meekly conforms to their edit.”

— Guillaume Apollinaire

Thanatophobia is related to death anxiety but reflects this fear in a different way. Thanatophobia is an intense fear of death or the dying process. For some people, death anxiety disrupts life in a very serious way. It can manifest as depression, anxiety, harmful behavior, etc.

What role does art play? For me, it’s significant in two ways. The first is that it provides meaning in my life. I feel that I have purpose when making art. I’m addressing issues that bother me (death anxiety, injustice, etc.) or interest me, and it provides significance for me. The second is that I know psychologically that my work will live on beyond my physical death. That is a form of symbolic immortality, and it plays a significant role, psychologically speaking, in enduring and buffering the knowledge of my mortality. Every human being needs to have meaning and significance in their life. They are powerful death anxiety buffers.

When you make art, you're buffering your death anxiety, whether you know it or not. And most don’t know it. We’ve evolved to disguise these activities so they seem meaningful, and we never recognize their real psychological purpose. This absolutely fascinates me and is the core of the work I’m doing.

“Existential Terror No. 10,” 3.75” x 5” acrylic on paper.