The Act of Creating Art is Terror Management

“Man is literally split in two: he has an awareness of his own splendid uniqueness in that he sticks out of nature with a towering majesty, and yet he goes back into the ground a few feet in order to blindly and dumbly rot and disappear forever. It is a terrifying dilemma to be in and to have to live with.

Man has a symbolic identity that brings him sharply out of nature. He is a symbolic self, a creature with a name, a life history. He is a creator with a mind that soars out to speculate about atoms and infinity, who can place himself imaginatively at a point in space and contemplate bemusedly his own planet. This immense expansion, this dexterity, this ethereality, this self-consciousness gives to man literally the status of a small god in nature, as the Renaissance thinkers knew.

The knowledge of death is reflective and conceptual, and animals are spared it. They live and they disappear with the same thoughtlessness: a few minutes of fear, a few seconds of anguish, and it is over. But to live a whole lifetime with the fate of death haunting one’s dreams and even the most sun-filled days—that’s something else.”

— Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death

THE MOST IMPORTANT QUESTIONS WE CAN ASK OURSELVES
What’s the most important question, or questions, that a human being can ask? Have you ever thought about that? I have. A lot. For me, and I believe for all humanity, the most important questions revolve around existence. Why am I here? What’s my purpose? Is there a meaning to life? If there is, what is it?

These are the questions that started me on my journey almost 40 years ago. For most of my life, I’ve used photography to explore these questions. Examining why some people are treated differently than others and pondering why the gulf between individuals exists. It was the beginning of my quest to understand what drives human behavior. There is the direct question of purpose, too. Religions were created to answer these questions, but they answer them based on faith, not empirical evidence. There’s evidence that the earliest homo sapiens invented and practiced some kind of religion. Humans have always depended on some kind of supernatural belief. Why is this? The answer is simple: to deal with the knowledge of death and quell the existential anxiety that arises from that knowledge. Death anxiety is a powerful driver in daily life, and most people never know that it is directing their lives. We do all kinds of things to distract ourselves from consciously thinking about our deaths. These distractions can be good or bad. Religions have been the main staple for staving off death anxiety for millennia. Things have changed in the last 300 years. The Enlightenment and the Industrial Revolution (technology) have given rise to people leaving religion and leaning on new constructs to quell their death anxiety. This is why Friedrich Nietzsche said, “God is dead.” He was referring to technology, money, fame, etc., freedom from religion, and personal growth. A form of terror management.

Human beings have an unconscious desire for immortality. We simply can’t face the fact of death or non-existence; it’s what we fear most, whether we know it or not, and most don’t. Ernest Becker wrote, “Man is literally split in two: he has an awareness of his own splendid uniqueness in that he sticks out of nature with a towering majesty, and yet he goes back into the ground a few feet in order blindly and dumbly to rot and disappear forever”. This quote is from Becker's 1973 book, The Denial of Death.

Pessimistic philosophers would tell you that life is a mistake. The overabundance of consciousness (the knowledge of mortality) is an evolutionary misstep. Peter Zapfee talks about the “suffering of brotherhood,” saying that the true knowledge of how much pain and suffering there is in the world is unbearable. The "brotherhood of suffering" is a concept in The Last Messiah by Peter Wessel Zapffe. In the parable, a paralyzed hunter recognizes that the animal's fear and hunger are similar to his own. The hunter then feels a great psalm about the brotherhood of suffering among everything alive.

Zapffe believed that the human condition is tragically overdeveloped and that the world is beyond humanity's need for meaning. He viewed the world as unable to provide any answers to fundamental existential questions.

While I’m not a pessimist, I can see the value of arguments like Zapffe’s. There are no answers to these big questions. There are only distractions to keep us from thinking about them. That’s what terror management theory addresses. How we distract ourselves from the reality of living—that there is no meaning or purpose in life. And that we will die and be forgotten.

The illusions or cultural constructs (cultural worldviews) we lean on to quell our death anxiety are everywhere: religion, politics, having children, getting married, sports, money, fame, degrees, awards, jobs, social status, drugs, alcohol, shopping (tranquilizing with the trivial)—anything to bolster our self-esteem and keep the existential anxiety repressed—and it works, and it works well. If you spend any time on social media, you can easily spot what people rely on to buffer their anxiety. I’ve seen people deeply identify with their vehicles, photography achievements, how long they’ve been married, their new clothes and “look,” the celebrity they met or the concert they attended, and so many other (too much information) things that are meaningless and trivial. What they don’t understand is that no one really cares.

Humans have evolved to suppress or repress this knowledge—to distract ourselves and deny our mortality. We had to, or we wouldn’t have survived. I read a book a while ago called "Denial: Self-Deception, False Beliefs, and the Origins of the Human Mind" by Ajit Varki and Danny Brower. The book presents a theory on the origins of the human species. It explains why denial is a key to being human. The authors argue that humans separated themselves from other creatures because they became self-aware of their own and others' mortality. They then developed a way to deny that mortality. The book offers a warning about the dangers of our ability to ignore reality. It asks why other intelligent animals have not evolved like humans. The authors' answer is that humans have crossed a major psychological evolutionary barrier by developing the ability to deny reality. The theory of mind (TOM) plays a big role in this evolutionary step. I highly recommend reading the book.

Where does that leave us? Well, for some of us who don’t lean on some of the aforementioned illusions, there is art. Art is our distraction and our buffer. The coping mechanism we use to repress the knowledge of our deaths works well. It gives us meaning and significance and makes us feel like we are part of something bigger than ourselves—that maybe our art will live on after we are gone (symbolic immortality). Regardless of what we do, what we create, or where it ends up or not, the function of art is an important one.

WHY DO WE MAKE ART?
No one is going to save the world by making art. That’s not difficult to understand, and I think we can all agree on that. However, living a creative life can bring peace and satisfaction. And it can bolster your self-esteem. That’s really the function of art. It’s to allow creative people to transfer their existential anxiety onto an object (sublimation), into music, or onto a written page. I’ll talk more about this in a minute. So, we make art to keep our neurosis in check. To bring us meaning and significance and to quell our death anxiety. That’s the function of art. And if people like it after all of that, great! But that’s not the reason or function of art.

THE TWO THINGS THAT I HAVE GREAT CONFIDENCE IN SAYING ARE TRUE
I’ve studied the theories of Ernest Becker, Solomon, et al. (TMT) since 2018. And for the past two years, I’ve engaged with these ideas more deeply than I ever have before. Through these studies, I’m convinced of a couple of things.

CREATING ART IS TERROR MANAGEMENT
First, creating art is done in the service of terror management (TMT). One of the ubiquitous characteristics of human art throughout history and across cultures is the attempt to come to terms with mortality and achieve symbolic forms of immortality. In essence, saying, “I was here” or “remember me!” And the act itself buffers our existential dread. I’m convinced of that. There have been many philosophers, even beyond Becker, who have eluded to this. Peter Zapfee called in sublimation. He said it was the best form of terror management, but few people could do it. He wrote in his essay, The Last Messiah (1933), "Sublimation is the refocusing of energy away from negative outlets toward positive ones. Through stylistic or artistic gifts, the very pain of living can sometimes be converted into valuable experiences. Positive impulses engage the evil and put it to their own ends, fastening onto its pictorial, dramatic, heroic, lyric, or even comic aspects. To write a tragedy, one must to some extent free oneself from—betray—the very feeling of tragedy and regard it from an outer, e.g., aesthetic, point of view. Here is, by the way, an opportunity for the wildest round-dancing through ever higher ironic levels into a most embarrassing circulus vitiosus. Here one can chase one's ego across numerous habitats, enjoying the capacity of the various layers of consciousness to dispel one another. The present essay is a typical attempt at sublimation. The author does not suffer; he is filling pages and is going to be published in a journal."

Ernest Becker wrote, “Both the artist and the neurotic bite off more than they can chew, but the artist spews it back out again and chews it over in an objectified way, as an external, active work project. The neurotic can’t marshal this creative response embodied in a specific work, and so he chokes on his introversions.”

In essence, we’re all neurotic to some degree. It’s part and parcel of the dilemma of existing. The creative life offers something that no other form of terror management can: a literal outlet for existential terror.

Becker goes on to say, "The only way to work on perfection is in the form of an objective work that is fully under your control and is perfectible in some real ways. Either you eat up yourself and others around you, trying for perfection; or you objectify that imperfection in a work, on which you then unleash your creative powers. In this sense, some kind of objective creativity is the only answer man has to the problem of life.

The creative person becomes, in art, literature, and religion the mediator of natural terror and the indicator of a new way to triumph over it. He reveals the darkness and the dread of the human condition and fabricates a new symbolic transcendence over it. This has been the function of the creative deviant from the shamans through Shakespeare.

Otto Rank asked why the artist so often avoids clinical neurosis when he is so much a candidate for it because of his vivid imagination, his openness to the finest and broadest aspects of experience, his isolation from the cultural world-view that satisfies everyone else. The answer is that he takes in the world, but instead of being oppressed by it he reworks it in his own personality and recreates it in the work of art. The neurotic is precisely the one who cannot create.” Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death, 1973

TRIBALISM AND “OTHERING”
And secondly, the way we form tribes and go after the “other” whoever that may be to you. This is what my project (In the Shadow of Sun Mountain: The Psychology of Othering and the Origins of Evil) is about. I’m explaining the reasons for genocide, ethnocide, racism, xenophobia, hate, etc. through these theories. I’ve found that people often talk about these events but never give any solid reasons for why they happen. That’s one of my objectives in this work. I’ve also written quite an extensive section about my own journey. Starting with my own death awareness around the age of eight. I share life stories of death, othering, and the negative effects of in-groups and out-groups. In all of that, I revisited my interest in photography. How I started, what I’ve been interested in, and how this work is really the culmination of 35 plus years of thinking, wondering, and pursuing these ideas.

I recently read a great article on Alternet.org by Bobby Azarian. He is a cognitive neuroscientist and the author of the book The Romance of Reality: How the Universe Organizes Itself to Create Life, Consciousness, and Cosmic Complexity. He wrote, "Terror management theory is more relevant than ever because it provides an explanation for tribalism, which is really at the core of this mystery. The theory suggests that existential terror—which can be triggered by anything that is perceived to pose a threat to one’s existence—is the reason we adopt cultural worldviews, such as our religions, national identities, or political ideologies. In an attempt to mitigate our fears, we latch onto philosophies that give our lives meaning and direction in a chaotic world.

But how does this explain tribalism, exactly?

When we're fearful or threatened, we rally around those who share our worldviews. We become aggressive toward those who don't. More alarmingly, perceived threats or existential fears—immigrants, transgender people, gun grabbing, government conspiracies, humiliation at the hands of "liberal elites”—can stir up nationalism and sway voting habits toward presidential candidates with authoritarian personalities. For example, a study found that when primed to think about their deaths, American students who self-identified as conservatives showed increased support for drastic military interventions that could lead to mass civilian casualties overseas. Another study found that after the 9/11 terror attack, support for then-President George W. Bush spiked, ultimately resulting in his re-election."

My journey studying these theories has been life-altering. I find myself more understanding of human behavior and more tolerant and patient. I’m more open to people’s beliefs and what they lean on to quell their anxiety. As long as their beliefs aren’t hurting themselves or anyone else, I say go for it; we need to find meaning and significance in our lives to make this journey bearable.

I’m grateful and humble (or try to be) for each day I’m above ground. I’m in awe of life and the mystery of it all—my finitude and smallness are always present in my mind; I’m fully present to my cosmic insignificance. I understand that I really don’t know anything, and what I do know is very limited and only in a certain context. I have very little certainty about anything (save what I mentioned in this essay). Life is wonderful, but rarely, if ever, is it black and white. I walk in the world of the “hard place,” not the “rock place.” We are all trying our best to manage our existential terror, whether we know it or not, and most don’t.

Don't Worry About Other People's Opinion of Your Work

Over the past few weeks, I’ve had a few conversations with people about making art. One topic seemed to always come up in these chats. In essence, they ask or imply, “What if people don’t like what I do or don’t understand it?” Or even, “People don’t like what I do, and they don't understand it. I don’t get very many likes or comments on social media.”

Addressing the issue of people not liking or responding to your work (social media “likes” and “comments") can be a big deterrent. And it can be a bit depressing and frustrating too. But that’s only if you give it credence or value. It’s your choice, whether you do or not. I can say with some certainty that it’s a waste of time to be concerned with what other people think about your creative endeavors, whether on social media or not; their feedback, for the most part, is meaningless. There’s an old quote attributed to a lot of different people that says, "When you’re 20, You care what everyone thinks. When you’re 40, You stop caring what everyone thinks. When you’re 60, You realize no one was ever thinking about you in the first place." I’ll be 60 years old soon and can relate to the wisdom here. Apply it to your creative life. It will make you a better artist.

This is looking west-southwest from our house. We were walking back from the top of our property and saw this. The “circle” of clouds and the ray of light on Saddleback Mountain (the far peak) were magnificient.

My response to this dilemma has always been the same: Make your work for an audience of one: YOU. That’s all that matters. This only applies if you’re making personal, fine art work. Commercial work is a different story. With that, you are bound to please a much larger audience, and it’s in pursuit of money (that’s its purpose). It’s very easy for me to separate the two. Personal work has a strong, compelling narrative. Commercial work pays no mind to that. It’s pretty and popular. It’s a transaction for money, not an expression of an idea, concern, question, interest, etc. What the masses want is something familiar and safe. Something that takes no chances and is rarely ever different. It’s what sells. Money is the object, not expression. Period. Remember the difference; that’s an important piece of understanding what you’re trying to do.

“When you’re 20, You care what everyone thinks, When you’re 40, You stop caring what everyone thinks, When you’re 60, You realize no one was ever thinking about you in the first place.”

— Unknown

That brings me to my second point. If you make creative work with the intention of selling it, you’re probably off to a dubious start. Influence is incessant. Making money can really mess with accessing your own creative desires. You can see how easily you’d cross that line into commercial work. And once you cross over, you’re not making work for yourself; you’re making work for them. It kills your creative vibe (in a personal sense).

I’ve said it a million times: I have nothing against commercial work. Good on you if you do it and it fills your bank account. My concerns are about not conflating commercial work with personal expression, narrative, or personal fine art. I couldn’t care less for commercial work. I have absolutely no interest in it. I’m not in the least bit concerned about selling, showing, winning awards, or anything else with my work. I make it for personal reasons, reasons that I’ve explained many times in these essays.

Carry on doing work that motivates you. If others like it or can appreciate it, great! But never make that a priority. And I would recommend that you separate making money from your creative life. Keep your creative spirit free from the poison of commerce. It destroys your soul in that context. Earn your money some other way; keep your artmaking separate and special. Enjoy every day that you can create something, or even try to create something. Reveal the failures, learn from them, and be grateful. You will be amazed at where you find yourself mentally and creatively.

In the next few weeks, I’ll share what I’ve been working on in the studio. I guess you could call it an evolution of this work. I’m super excited about it. Stay tuned!!

Change is the Only Constant: Evolution of a Project

The ancient Greek philosopher Heraclitus observed that the natural world was in a constant state of movement. People age, develop habits, and change environments. You can't step into the same river twice; even rocks are subject to changes by the elements over time. Change is the only constant. It’s the same way when making art. A large project will evolve over time. If you’ve followed mine, you know that’s true.

I started this project (In the Shadow of Sun Mountain: The Psychology of Othering and the Origins of Evil) in September of 2021. It’s fast approaching two years now. That’s not very long for me to work on something photographically or on any kind of creative project. The time isn’t relative to me. I couldn’t care less if it took me one year or ten years to complete a project or bring my ideas to some kind of meaningful creation. My point is that this project is ever-evolving, as it should be, and may have one more huge evolutionary step taking place over the next few months.

Lately, I’ve found myself wanting to push the work in this project farther. The words “tactile” and “tangible” come to mind often as I look at the work. I’ve loved the craft of photography for decades. It’s given me so much, and it’s always been a great outlet and very therapeutic for me. However, over the past ten years or so, I’ve wanted to push my art-making farther. And this project has revealed that this is the perfect time to do that.

“It is better to fail in originality, than to succeed in imitation.”

— Herman Melville author of Moby Dick

So how do you make photography tactile or tangible? That’s the question I’ve been thinking about a lot. I see art-making as a series of problems to solve. It’s a lot like life itself. We’re faced with a series of problems to resolve every day. My tactile problem centers around two ideas. The first is to represent (abstractly) the landscape here. Specifically, the great mountain Tava-Kaavi. This is a big challenge. The second is to represent the colors. In essence, it’s the textures and colors of the land that I’m addressing. I don’t want the photographs to be taken out of context. These are the problems that I’ll be trying to resolve over the next month or so.

I’ve been reading Otto Rank’s book, “Art and Artist.” How the artist uses material to transfer their anxiety into and onto it is a powerful idea, but it does have some downsides (such as rejecting cultural constructs and being ostracized).

Ernest Becker’s interpretation of Rank’s writing in his book “The Denial of Death” has greatly influenced me as well. I really connect with Becker’s conclusion about his theories—the best answer that he could give. He said, “The most that any one of us can seem to do is to fashion something—an object or ourselves—and drop it into the confusion, make an offering of it, so to speak, to the life force.” I’ve been thinking deeply about that idea. It’s affected the way I want to approach this work.

I have to be honest and say that “straight” photography is a little bit repetitious for me. Don’t misunderstand me; I love photography, and I’m over the moon about the work I've been able to make for this project. I just feel that these ideas need more than straight photography to be represented in a meaningful and powerful way. I’ve been working on ideas to try to make that happen.

“Just as conscious contents can vanish into the unconscious, other contents can also arise from it. Besides a majority of mere recollections, really new thoughts and creative ideas can appear which have never been conscious before.

They grow up from the dark depths like a lotus, and they form an important part of the subliminal psyche.

Forgetting is a normal process in which certain conscious contents lose their specific energy through a deflection of attention.When interest turns elsewhere, it leaves former contents in the shadow, just as a searchlight illuminates a new area by leaving another to disappear in the darkness.

This is unavoidable, for consciousness can keep only a few images in full clarity at one time, and even this clarity fluctuates, as I have mentioned. "Forgetting" may be defined as temporarily subliminal contents remaining outside the range of vision against one's will.

But the forgotten contents have not ceased to exist. Although they cannot be reproduced, they are present in a subliminal state, from which they can rise up spontaneously at any time, often after many years of apparently total oblivion, or they can be fetched back by hypnosis.

Besides normal forgetting, there are the cases described by Freud of disagreeable memories which one is only too ready to lose. As Nietzsche has remarked, when pride is insistent enough, memory prefers to give way. Thus, among the lost memories we encounter, not a few owe their subliminal state (and their incapacity to be reproduced at will) to their disagreeable and incompatible nature. These are the repressed contents.”

Carl Jung

“Five-Star Flower and Berries,” 10” x 10” (25,4 x 25,4cm) RA-4 Reversal Direct Color Print, August 7, 2023.

I only get this light in my studio between 0800 and 0830 in the morning (this time of year). I was so pleased when I saw this come up in the darkroom. It’s emotional to me; I can feel the geometry in the flower and the light. The small circle of light (reflected onto the background) feels like an alien looking on.

Shaping Objects With Light and Making Ideas Real

Art gives us the ability to create ideas and physically manifest them. Think about that: the ability to make something that exists only as a thought or an idea. That is mind-twisting! In my opinion, it’s a good definition of the word magic. See Becker’s quote below.

“Man has “a mind that soars out to speculate about atoms and infinity, who can place himself imaginatively at a point in space and contemplate bemusedly his own planet. This immense expansion, this dexterity, this ethereality, this self-consciousness gives to man literally the status of a small god in nature... Yet, at the same time... man is a worm and food for worms.”

— Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death

It can be any form of expression—writing, sculpting, painting, music, photography, etc. Something that engages one or several of our senses. When I was young—10 or 12 years old—I wanted to be a figure sculptor. I got very interested in wax as a material. I visited a wax museum in Orlando, Florida, and I believe it was converted to Madame Tussauds a few years ago.

I was hooked. It was something about seeing the human figure re-created in such a way that you could really study it—almost feel its presence. There were Star Trek figures there; that’s what got me. I had my Polaroid portrait made with Spock. I still have that picture. It moved me tremendously.

One of my favorite things to do is use light to shape objects and bring out the essence of what they are or could be. So many people simply expose a picture and hope for the best. I think that takes so much of the creativity away. It turns creating something into a mechanical exercise.

“Deer Antlers in Ute Pot: Print #2,” 10” x 10” (25,4 x 25,4 cm) RA-4 Reversal Direct Color Print August 5, 2023

"The tragedy of a species becoming unfit for life by over-evolving one ability is not confined to humankind. Thus, it is thought, for instance, that certain deer in paleontological times succumbed as they acquired overly-heavy horns. The mutations must be considered blind; they work and are thrown forth without any contact of interest with their environment. In depressive states, the mind may be seen in the image of such an antler, in all its fantastic splendor, pinning its bearer to the ground."

Peter Zapffe, The Last Messiah

The species of deer that Zapffe has in mind is the Irish elk (Megaloceros giganteus), which thrived throughout Eurasia during the ecological epoch known as the Pleistocene (2.6 million to 11,700 years ago). The Irish elk had the largest antlers of any known deer, with a maximum span of 3.65 meters. Historically, the explanation given for the extinction of the Irish elk was that its antlers grew too large: the animals could no longer hold up their heads or feed properly; their antlers, according to this explanation, would also get entangled in trees, such as when trying to flee human hunters through forests.

A surplus of consciousness and intellect is the default state of affairs for the human species, although unlike the case of the deer that Zapffe alludes to, we have been able to save ourselves from going extinct. Zapffe posits that humans have come to cope and survive by repressing this surplus of consciousness. Without restricting our consciousness, Zapffe believed the human being would fall into “a state of relentless panic” or a ‘feeling of cosmic panic’, as he puts it. This follows a person’s realization that “[h]e is the universe’s helpless captive”; it comes from truly understanding the human predicament. In the 1990 documentary To Be a Human Being, he stated:

"Man is a tragic animal. Not because of his smallness, but because he is too well endowed. Man has longings and spiritual demands that reality cannot fulfill. We have expectations of a just and moral world. Man requires meaning in a meaningless world."

The Irish elk (Megaloceros giganteus), which thrived throughout Eurasia during the ecological epoch known as the Pleistocene (2.6 million to 11,700 years ago). The Irish elk had the largest antlers of any known deer, with a maximum span of 3.65 meters.

White Sage, Sneezeweed, and Western Goatsbeard

"Sneezeweed in an English Brass Spittoon Used for Snuff," 10" x 10" (25,4 x 25,4 cm) RA-4 Color Reversal Print, July 16, 2023

They are commonly known as 'Sneezeweed' due to the ancient use of their dried leaves in making snuff, which was inhaled to help sneeze and rid the body of evil spirits. The dried, nearly mature flower heads are used in a powdered form as snuff to treat colds and headaches. When made into tea, they are used in the treatment of intestinal worms.

“Sneezeweed” POP (palldiotype) July 20, 2022

"Western Goatsbeard," 10" x 10" (25,4 x 25,4 cm) RA-4 Color Reversal Print, July 16, 2023

Remember the yellow salisify flower from the other day? This is what it ends up being. An amazing transformation! Life and death, that’s the jam.

“Western Goatsbeard” POP (palldiotype) July 19, 2022

Death Anxiety, Creativity, and a Big Announcement

Dr. Sheldon Solomon is an experimental social psychologist. He teaches at Skidmore College in New York and is a co-author of the book The Worm at the Core: On the Role of Death in Life and one of the creators of terror management theory.

The Big Announcement
Let’s get right to it! I contacted Sheldon Solomon a few days ago to ask him to come back on my YouTube channel for an interview. He said yes! We will arrange something for September. That’s far enough out that everyone can get their questions sorted out to ask him. I know I will. When I have a date and time figured out, I’ll post it. I hope we can talk about the nuts and bolts of these theories in a way that the uninitiated can understand; that’s my biggest desire.

"Rank asked why the artist so often avoids clinical neurosis when he is so much a candidate for it because of his vivid imagination, his openness to the finest and broadest aspects of experience, and his isolation from the cultural worldview that satisfies everyone else. The answer is that he takes in the world, but instead of being oppressed by it, he reworks it in his own personality and recreates it in the work of art." Ernest Becker discusses Otto Rank in The Denial of Death

“Even evil is just the fear of death. Our heroic projects that are aimed at destroying evil have the paradoxical effect of bringing more evil into the world. Human conflicts are life-and-death struggles—my gods against your gods, my immortality project against your immortality project. The root of humanly caused evil is not man’s animal nature, not territorial aggression, or innate selfishness, but our need to gain self-esteem, deny our mortality, and achieve a heroic self-image. Our desire for the best is the cause of the worst. We want to clean up the world, make it perfect, keep it safe for democracy or communism, purify it of the enemies of god, eliminate evil, establish an alabaster city undimmed by human tears, or a thousand-year Reich”

— Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death

“Wild Peppergrass, Deer Antler, and European Silver,” 10” x10” (25,4 x 25,4 cm) RA-4 Reversal Direct Color Print, July 10, 2023

Native Americans used the bruised fresh plant or a tea made from the leaves to treat poison ivy rash and scurvy. A poultice of the leaves was applied to the chest in the treatment of croup. The seed is anti-asthmatic, antitussive, cardiotonic, and diuretic as well.

My photographs represent an esoteric conflict that’s rooted in our unconscious denial of death. That conflict is the psychological underpinning of the atrocities that happened on this land—the genocide and ethnocide. I’ve connected these ideas through the content of the images: their landscapes, medicinal and ceremonial plants, and some of the symbols that were used on the land. These ideas are represented both symbolically and literally. The cultural anthropologist Ernest Becker said in his 1973 book, The Denial of Death, "Even evil is just the fear of death. Our heroic projects that are aimed at destroying evil have the paradoxical effect of bringing more evil into the world. Human conflicts are life-and-death struggles—my gods against your gods, my immortality project against your immortality project. The root of humanly caused evil is not man’s animal nature, not territorial aggression, or innate selfishness, but our need to gain self-esteem, deny our mortality, and achieve a heroic self-image. Our desire for the best is the cause of the worst. We want to clean up the world, make it perfect, keep it safe for democracy or communism, purify it of the enemies of god, eliminate evil, establish an alabaster city undimmed by human tears, or a thousand-year Reich." Becker’s ideas perfectly describe the reasons for the xenophobia and genocide of the Tabeguache and all other indigenous people all over the world and throughout history.

According to Becker, individuals develop what he called "immortality projects" as a means of overcoming the terror of death. These projects are essentially belief systems or ideologies that provide a sense of meaning, purpose, and significance to our lives, offering the promise of immortality in some form. Examples of immortality projects can be found in religion, nationalism, political ideologies, a creative life, and other forms of collective identity.

Becker argues that conflicts between individuals and groups arise from clashes between these immortality projects. People invest their self-esteem and identity into their projects, and when these projects are threatened or challenged, it triggers a fear of death. This fear, in turn, leads to defensive responses, including aggression and violence, as individuals strive to protect and preserve their immortality projects.

In this context, Becker suggests that even acts that are commonly labeled as evil can be understood as manifestations of the fear of death. When people feel threatened by opposing ideologies or beliefs, they may engage in destructive actions to defend their immortality projects. Paradoxically, the very attempts to eliminate evil and establish a perfect world can lead to more conflict and suffering because they stem from our fear of death and the need to maintain a heroic self-image. This is a perfect analogy of what my project is about.

Ultimately, Becker argues that the root cause of humanly-caused evil is not inherent human nature but rather our deep-seated psychological need to gain self-esteem, deny our mortality, and construct a heroic self-image through immortality projects. Our pursuit of the best, the ideal, and the perfect can inadvertently result in the worst outcomes, perpetuating a cycle of conflict and suffering. Most atrocities are committed or acted out from this viewpoint.

While I find this very compelling, it is important to note that these ideas put forth by Ernest Becker are just one perspective on the nature of evil and human behavior. Alternative theories and philosophies provide alternative explanations, and the subject of evil is complex and multifaceted, and academics and thinkers from various disciplines continue to explore and debate it.

A Recent Interview on “Tin Questions”
I was interviewed by Chad Shyrock from Tin Questions; you can listen to that here if you’re interested.

Meaning and Significance: Why We Need It and How We Find It

“Did you know the uniquely human fear of death has a pervasive effect on human beings’ thoughts, feelings, and behavior? Humans manage the terror of death by adhering to culturally constructed beliefs about reality that provide a sense that one is a person of value in a world of meaning and thus eligible for either literal or symbolic immortality. The quest for immortality underlies some of humankind’s most noble achievements. It also, however, engenders some of our most ignominious affectations, including hostility and disdain for people with different beliefs; attraction to ideological demagogues; indifference to, or contempt for, the natural environment; and the mindless pursuit of material possessions—which, if unchecked, may render humans the first form of life responsible for their own extinction.”

Sheldon Solomon, PhD, Author of "The Worm at the Core: On the Role of Death in Life"

Last year, I had Sheldon as a guest on my YouTube channel. We had a discussion about the importance of Becker's theories for creative individuals, especially photographers. It was a great conversation, and I would like to have him on again.

I have two main objectives for my book: firstly, I want to explain these theories in simple terms that anyone can understand. Secondly, I want to show how these theories were directly involved in the mass killings and massacres of Native Americans during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries in the western United States. Additionally, I explore how these theories impact artists and other creative people, albeit in a slightly different way.

“Did you know the uniquely human fear of death has a pervasive effect on human beings’ thoughts, feelings, and behavior? Humans manage the terror of death by adhering to culturally constructed beliefs about reality that provide a sense that one is a person of value in a world of meaning and thus eligible for either literal or symbolic immortality. The quest for immortality underlies some of humankind’s most noble achievements. It also, however, engenders some of our most ignominious affectations, including hostility and disdain for people with different beliefs; attraction to ideological demagogues; indifference to, or contempt for, the natural environment; and the mindless pursuit of material possessions—which, if unchecked, may render humans the first form of life responsible for their own extinction.”

— Sheldon Solomon, PhD, Author of "The Worm at the Core: On the Role of Death in Life"

I’m making most of these color flora prints with the 10” x 10” Chamonix camera and an 1874 Dallmeyer 3B lens.

Let's talk about the concept of meaning in life. For me, meaning implies that our existence has a purpose and makes sense. On the other hand, significance refers to being noticed and considered important. Our greatest fear is to live in a world that lacks meaning and significance, often referred to as "death anxiety." Essentially, we are unconsciously terrified of impermanence and insignificance.

Throughout thousands of years, humans have undergone psychological evolution as part of their overall development. Our brains have evolved to have a large neocortex, but we have also suppressed the awareness of our mortality in order to function in our daily lives. Thomas Ligotti, in his book "The Conspiracy Against the Human Race," said, "For the rest of the earth’s organisms, existence is relatively uncomplicated. Their lives are about three things: survival, reproduction, death—and nothing else. But we know too much to content ourselves with surviving, reproducing, dying—and nothing else. We know we are alive and know we will die. We also know we will suffer during our lives before suffering—slowly or quickly—as we draw near to death. This is the knowledge we “enjoy” as the most intelligent organisms to gush from the womb of nature. And being so, we feel shortchanged if there is nothing else for us than to survive, reproduce, and die. We want there to be more to it than that, or to think there is. This is the tragedy: Consciousness has forced us into the paradoxical position of striving to be unself-conscious of what we are—hunks of spoiling flesh on disintegrating bones." It is a paradox. We possess incredible intelligence, yet we are aware that we will eventually die. This is a difficult reality to accept, and we tend to deny and reject it. However, death is an inevitable part of life for all of us.

The “scene” photographed with an iPhone to give you an idea of my working environment.

So, how do we deal with this existential dilemma? The answer lies in culture. Every culture, and there are countless diverse cultures around the world, provides its people with ways to alleviate their death anxiety or existential dread. These "cultural worldviews," as Becker calls them, serve as intricate distractions or illusions that prevent us from consciously dwelling on the subject of death (especially our own). You may be reading this right now and thinking, "What is he talking about? I rarely think about death; I don’t have death anxiety!" Exactly. That means you have a cultural worldview you are clinging to tightly and are ensconced in—protected from the thoughts of death by the cultural constructs you believe in and participate in—and it works well!

What are these cultural worldviews? They are anything that your in-group shares as reality. It’s what you and the people around you believe to be important. The most potent are religion, politics, nationalism, family (having children), money, fame, looks, etc. These worldviews usually provide ways to gain symbolic or literal immortality and give us a road map to follow in our lives. Ernest Becker said, "No wonder men go into a rage over fine points of belief: if your adversary wins the argument about truth, you die. Your immortality system has been shown to be fallible; your life becomes fallible." Cultures reward good behavior (things that the group believes in) and punish bad behavior. Remember, what’s “good” or “bad” in your culture may be very different from someone else's. Read about the “Flute Ceremony” versus the “Bar Mitzvah” in Sheldon’s book “The Worm at the Core: On the Role of Death in Life.” This is where the conflict begins.

In order for us to get out of bed in the morning, we need meaning. And we need to feel like we are part of something important. If we don’t have meaning and significance, there’s a good chance we’ll fall into depression and other mental health issues. The takeaway is this: Be conscious of what you’re choosing to lean on—your cultural worldview—to bolster your self-esteem and stave off existential dread; it can lead to good things or bad things. It’s very easy to adopt the malignant worldviews of racism, hate, scapegoating, and othering. It’s easy to fall into the cultural trap of treating people who are different from you badly. If we’re conscious of these psychological pressures, we can make good choices and allow other people to find good, healthy, non-destructive ways to buffer their death anxiety. Awe, gratitude, and humility go a long way as buffers and do no warm to other people.

“For the rest of the earth’s organisms, existence is relatively uncomplicated. Their lives are about three things: survival, reproduction, death—and nothing else. But we know too much to content ourselves with surviving, reproducing, dying—and nothing else. We know we are alive and know we will die. We also know we will suffer during our lives before suffering—slowly or quickly—as we draw near to death. This is the knowledge we “enjoy” as the most intelligent organisms to gush from the womb of nature. And being so, we feel shortchanged if there is nothing else for us than to survive, reproduce, and die. We want there to be more to it than that, or to think there is. This is the tragedy: Consciousness has forced us into the paradoxical position of striving to be unself-conscious of what we are—hunks of spoiling flesh on disintegrating bones.”

— Thomas Ligotti, The Conspiracy Against the Human Race

“Flowering Prickly Pear Cactus and Water Vase,” 10” x 10” (25,4 x 25,4 cm), RA-4 Reversal Direct Color Print, July 7, 2023. If you look close, you can see what I’m experimenting with. I exposed the paper backwards—exposing through the paper—and then exposed it again with the emulsion forward. It looks really great in your hand.

Life Asked Death...

“Life asked Death ‘Death, why do people love me but hate you?’ Death responded ‘Because you are a beautiful lie and I am a painful truth.”

— Anonymous

“Prickly Pear Cactus Flowering and Mullein Feathers,” 10” x 10” (25,4 x 25,4 cm), RA-4 Reversal Color Print, July 1, 2023
Early historic observations and archeological data clearly indicate Native Americans relied on prickly pear for food, medicine, and as a source of needles, containers, and water. The prickly pear gets its name from the numerous sharp spines borne on the stems and the seasonal fruits known as pears or tunas. The prickly pear cactus is a symbol of hope and endurance in harsh conditions. To many Native Americans, the yellow cactus flowers are a “mother symbol,” representing a mother's unconditional love and their patience and selfless protection.

“Prickly Pear Cactus Flowering and Mullein Feathers,” 10” x 10” (25,4 x 25,4 cm), RA-4 Reversal Color Print, July 1, 2023
Early historic observations and archeological data clearly indicate Native Americans relied on prickly pear for food, medicine, and as a source of needles, containers, and water. The prickly pear gets its name from the numerous sharp spines borne on the stems and the seasonal fruits known as pears or tunas. The prickly pear cactus is a symbol of hope and endurance in harsh conditions. To many Native Americans, the yellow cactus flowers are a “mother symbol,” representing a mother's unconditional love and their patience and selfless protection.

The Denial of Death

Did you know the uniquely human fear of death has a pervasive effect on human beings’ thoughts, feelings, and behavior? Humans manage the terror of death by adhering to culturally constructed beliefs about reality that provide a sense that one is a person of value in a world of meaning, and thus eligible for either literal or symbolic immortality. The quest for immortality underlies some of humankind’s most noble achievements. It also, however, engenders some of our most ignominious affectations, including hostility and disdain for people with different beliefs; attraction to ideological demagogues; indifference to, or contempt for, the natural environment; and, the mindless pursuit of material possessions—which, if unchecked, may render humans the first form of life responsible for their own extinction. - Sheldon Solomon, PhD. Author of "The Worm at the Core: On the Role of Death in Life"

Death Anxiety and Terror Management Theory: Impacts on White Colonizers in Colorado and the Tabeguache Ute Tribe

The history of colonial expansion is fraught with complex dynamics, including encounters between indigenous populations and colonizers. One notable example is the clash between white colonizers in Colorado and the Tabeguache Ute tribe, known today as the Uncompahgre Ute. This essay explores the influence of death anxiety and Terror Management Theory on the white colonizers as they encountered the Tabeguache Ute tribe, highlighting the profound impact on their interactions and perceptions. Furthermore, accompanying photographs of flora, landscapes, and Tabeguache Ute symbols will serve as visual aids, offering glimpses into the historical context and cultural richness of the Ute tribe.

Death Anxiety and Terror Management Theory

Death anxiety, a fundamental aspect of the human condition, manifests as a fear of one's mortality and the annihilation of self. Terror Management Theory posits that individuals employ various psychological mechanisms to cope with this anxiety, seeking cultural worldviews and symbolic beliefs that provide a sense of meaning, purpose, and continuity in the face of mortality.

White Colonizers in Colorado

White colonizers who ventured into Colorado encountered a vast, unfamiliar land with indigenous tribes like the Tabeguache Ute. The colonizers were driven by ambitions of territorial expansion, resource extraction, and the pursuit of wealth. However, their encounters with the Ute tribe disrupted their established cultural worldviews, triggering a heightened awareness of their mortality and fostering a clash between different cultural ideologies.

Death Anxiety and Perception of the Tabeguache Ute Tribe

The white colonizers' death anxiety became a lens through which they perceived the Ute tribe. The Ute's spiritual beliefs, deep connection to the land, and reverence for nature were in stark contrast to the colonizers' worldview. This stark contrast threatened the colonizers' sense of cultural continuity and superiority, intensifying their anxiety.

Impact on Interactions

The white colonizers' death anxiety and subsequent terror management strategies influenced their interactions with the Ute tribe. Rather than embracing the cultural differences as opportunities for growth and understanding, the colonizers often reacted with hostility, attempting to suppress or eradicate the Ute's cultural practices and beliefs. This aggression aimed to reassert their dominance and alleviate their own existential fears.

Photographs Depicting Flora, Landscapes, and Ute Symbols

My photographs provide an abstract, visual representation of the Colorado landscape, the flora, and the symbolic richness of the Ute tribe. Prints of the majestic landscapes, aspen and pine trees, and unique flora indigenous to the region, used both medicinally and ceremonially, highlight the natural beauty that both the Ute and the colonizers encountered. Additionally, my photographs of Ute symbols, such as the Medicine Wheel, depict the cultural depth and spiritual connection of the people to the land. I often think about the Tabeguache people seeing the same flowers, the same plants, the same trees, and walking on the very same landscape that I do every day.

Conclusion

The encounter between white colonizers in Colorado and the Tabeguache Ute tribe was deeply influenced by death anxiety and Terror Management Theory. The clash between these two groups stemmed from the colonizers' fear of mortality, which heightened their perception of cultural differences as threats to their own sense of continuity. Through the lens of death anxiety, the white colonizers often responded with hostility, attempting to suppress the Ute's cultural practices and beliefs. By examining this historical context, we can gain a deeper understanding of the complex dynamics at play and strive for a more inclusive and empathetic society today.

“Find what you love and let it kill you.
Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness.
Let it kill you and let it devour your remains.
For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover.”

— Charles Bukowski

“Prickly Pear Cactus Flowering and Stones,” 10” x 10” (25,4 x 25,4 cm) RA-4 Reversal Color Print, July 1, 2023
Early historic observations and archeological data clearly indicate Native Americans relied on prickly pear for food, medicine, and as a source of needles, containers, and water. The prickly pear gets its name from the numerous sharp spines borne on the stems and the seasonal fruits known as pears or tunas. The prickly pear cactus is a symbol of hope and endurance in harsh conditions. To many Native Americans, the yellow cactus flowers are a “mother symbol,” representing a mother's unconditional love and her patience and selfless protection.

“Don’t bend; don’t water it down; don’t try to make it logical; don’t edit your own soul according to the fashion. Rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly.”

— Franz Kafka

The Tabeguache Band of Colorado: Known Today as The Uncompahgre Ute

The Ute, pronounced as "yoot," refer to themselves as the Noochew or Nuuchui, meaning "Ute People." The term "Utah," the name of the state, originates from the Spanish word "Yutah," which describes the Ute as the "high land" or "land of the sun."

Renowned for their courage, some historians believe the Ute possessed comparable skill and cunning to the Apaches. In the past, they occupied an expansive territory of approximately 79 million acres in the Great Basin region. Their extensive travels through the picturesque mountainous landscapes of the Western region led them to establish trails, the remnants of which proved invaluable to the white settlers who eventually displaced them.

Early observers noted the remarkable proficiency of Ute women in tanning hides, which served as valuable trade items and were used for clothing. They adeptly worked with buffalo, deer, elk, and mountain sheep hides. Ute women typically adorned themselves in long, belted dresses, leggings, and moccasins. Meanwhile, men wore shirts, leggings, and moccasins for their daily activities, reserving elaborate feathered headdresses for special occasions. During times of conflict, many men painted their bodies and faces using yellow and black pigments. Women occasionally painted their faces and adorned their hair partings. Some Ute individuals pierced their noses, inserting small, polished animal bones, while others tattooed their faces using cactus thorns dipped in ashes. Both men and women occasionally wore necklaces crafted from animal claws, bones, fish skeletons, and juniper seeds.

Early Ute ceremonies involved clothing embellishments such as paint, hair fringes, rows of elk teeth, or brightly dyed porcupine quills. Later, as the Ute acquired beads from European traders, their costumes incorporated intricate beadwork.

The Ute held two significant ceremonies—the Sun Dance and the Bear Dance—which continue to be performed annually.

The Sun Dance reflects a personal desire for spiritual power provided by the Great Spirit, but each dancer also represents their family and community, transforming the dance into a communal sharing experience. The Sun Dance is based on a fable about a man and a woman who left their tribe amid a severe famine. During their voyage, they discovered a deity who taught them the Sun Dance practices. When they returned to their tribe and performed the ceremony, a herd of buffalo appeared, putting an end to the hunger.

The Sun Dance ceremony encompasses several days of clandestine rituals followed by a public dance around a Sun Dance pole, symbolizing the connection to the Creator. These rituals involve fasting, prayer, smoking, and the preparation of ceremonial objects.

Describing a modern Sun Dance atop Sleeping Ute Mountain, journalist Jim Carrier recounted, "Night and day, for four days, the dancers charged the pole and retreated, back and forth in a personal gait. There were shuffles, hops, and a prancing kick. While they blew whistles made from eagle bones, their bare feet marked a 25-foot (7.5-kilometer) path in the dirt."

The Bear Dance, conducted annually in the spring, venerates the grizzly bear, revered by the Ute for imparting strength, wisdom, and survival skills. In earlier times, the Bear Dance coincided with the bears emerging from hibernation and aimed to awaken the bears to guide the Ute towards bountiful sources of nuts and berries. The dance served as a joyous social occasion after enduring a harsh winter.

The Bear Dance involves constructing a sizable circular enclosure made of sticks, representing a bear's den. Music played within the enclosure symbolizes the thunder that rouses the slumbering bears. The dance follows a "lady's choice" tradition, allowing Ute women to show their preference for a certain man. The Bear Dance ceremony traditionally lasted for four days and four nights. The dancers wore plumes that they would leave on a cedar tree at the east entrance of the corral. Leaving the feathers behind represented discarding past troubles and starting fresh.

MY PHOTOGRAPHS AS RESIDUE
My photographs for this project are what I consider residue. Residue is a small amount of something that remains after the main part has gone, been taken, or been used. It’s a lot like memory. The function of photography is to somehow "show" the memories and residue of a person, place, or thing.

I’m approaching these ideas indirectly. It’s a conscious choice to make the work somewhat abstract, like all memories are. This isn’t a documentary project, although it’s difficult to put anything in a box. There are elements that seem to fit, at least somewhat, into the documentary category. However, I would never consider this work documentary photography. The context and narrative provide the direction of the work. It’s my personal journey to discover answers to questions that I’ve wrestled with for decades. There’s no doubt it’s interdisciplinary work, combining art and several disciplines in the sciences and psychology. I think that’s what makes it interesting.

The book, in context, will give the reader and viewer an insight, not only about my journey but also about the human condition and what knowledge of our mortality does to us. I connect the events of the 19th century clearly to the theories of death anxiety and terror management theory. I show both the beauty of the land as well as inferring the loss. I show life as well as death through the flora and landscape photographs. My hope is that for those who read it, it will inspire and enlighten. That it will bring forward the beauty of life and appreciation of the awe that surrounds us, as well as an understanding of how evil is manifested in our human condition.

“Mountain Bell Cactus and White Granite,” 10” x 10” (25,4 x 24,4cm) RA-4 Reversal Direct Color Print, June 29, 2023 Pediocactus simpsonii, or Mountain Ball Cactus, is a species that grows at high altitudes in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado.

Emerging Answers About Art: Wonder, Serenity, and Non-Comforting

The title of this essay sounds contradictory, but it’s not. There are several pieces to the puzzle we call art; these are just a few more to ponder. It may seem like a case of cognitive dissonance, but it’s not. You can hold all of these ideas about art in your head at the same time and have them make sense. That’s the lesson I’ve learned. It’s not about entertainment. It’s about a long, solid journey of growth and a desire to understand yourself and your place in the world. The personal narrative is where art is born.

For over 30 years, I’ve been pursuing visual art with passion and vigilance. I’ve always had the desire to unpack what it is, what it means, and the best way to approach making it. While I use labels, I’m not really a fan of them. For me, it’s the best way I can contextualize and address something, comment on something, or answer something. Art defies labels and words in a lot of ways. And it should; that makes complete sense to me. It has its own language, its own context, so to speak. It’s the creator of the art that needs labels, and words always seem to fall short.

“The justification of art is the internal combustion it ignites in the hearts of men and not its shallow, externalized, public manifestations. The purpose of art is not the release of a momentary ejection of adrenaline but is, rather, the gradual, lifelong construction of a state of wonder and serenity.”

— Glenn Gould

While I’m not an expert, nor would I consider myself any kind of “master” regarding the creation of art, I’ve spent over three decades studying and working in art. It’s taught me a lot. In those three decades, I spent seven years completing both an undergraduate and graduate degree in art. The academics helped me organize and conceptualize my narratives. My undergraduate degree gave me a foundation not only in art photography but in several disciplines. I studied science, social psychology, social science, history, and language. My graduate degree was more focused but still involved a lot of other disciplines. I owe a lot to my education. I’m grateful to have it. I know there is a growing sentiment that higher education is a waste of time and money today. It wasn’t for me. I enjoyed all of it, and it played a big role in who I am today and how I approach life.

I’m beginning to realize, as I unfold all of these ideas in my book (In the Shadow of Sun Mountain: The Psychology of Othering and the Origins of Evil), that I’m learning about a deeper, more meaningful way to make art. That depth also applies to how I think about art; what it is, it's purpose, etc. Without employing other disciplines, such as history, psychology, anthropology, theology, etc., it wouldn’t complete the ideas and theories I’m addressing. The Canadian classical pianist Glenn Gould said, "The justification of art is the internal combustion it ignites in the hearts of men and not its shallow, externalized, public manifestations. The purpose of art is not the release of a momentary ejection of adrenaline but is, rather, the gradual, lifelong construction of a state of wonder and serenity." I couldn’t agree more.

When I read this statement for the first time, I was so moved by it. He articulated what I’ve felt for a long time. He said it’s a “lifelong construction of a state of wonder and serenity.” Wonder is a feeling of surprise mixed with admiration brought on by something beautiful, unexpected, foreign, or mysterious. And serenity is a state of being calm, peaceful, and untroubled.

Gould argues that art should contribute to the ongoing and gradual development of a profound sense of wonder and tranquility within individuals. Instead of providing momentary excitement, art should strive to create a lasting impact, fostering a sense of awe, curiosity, and inner peace that endures throughout one's life. It should help a person understand, at least in some part, their role in life.

His statement emphasizes that art's true value lies in its ability to deeply affect individuals, evoking powerful emotions and facilitating personal growth. He suggests that the purpose of art is not to provide temporary thrills but to contribute to a lifelong journey of experiencing wonder and serenity.

On the other side, I like what the American writer Joyce Carol Oates said: “My belief is that art should not be comforting; for comfort, we have mass entertainment and one another. Art should provoke, disturb, arouse our emotions, and expand our sympathies in directions we may not anticipate and may not even wish.” This is what I have always felt was true about the pursuit of art: to be socially active and, as Oates says, provocative in some way. Provocative doesn’t necessarily mean vulgar, sexual, or shocking, although it can be. For me, it’s about arousing a strong reaction. That can be accomplished in many ways. In my current work, I’m blending a dark historical event with some very life-affirming ideas that complement each other and tell a powerful story about the human condition.

“ My belief is that art should not be comforting; for comfort, we have mass entertainment and one another. Art should provoke, disturb, arouse our emotions, and expand our sympathies in directions we may not anticipate and may not even wish.”

— Joyce Carol Oates