Symbolism Over Substance or Substance Over Symbolism?

Those are the questions. And I think I can offer an answer. Or at least food for thought.

I’ve been spending every morning writing—getting up early, making coffee, and writing.

It’s been wonderful. I love it. I see the light at the end of the tunnel.

There’s been a reoccurring idea (or a couple of questions) for me as I write about my life, these theories, and art.

The questions I’ve been considering aren’t new to me. But for whatever reason, they keep coming up as I write. I’m trying to connect my ideas to art, life, and death. I’m happy to report that I’ve found ways to do that through using these questions, or rather comparing these questions to my writing and art.

The questions are: symbolism over substance? or substance over symbolism? Or?

I see this “problem” in people trying to be creative or trying to appear to be creative (imposter stuff). It’s kind of like virtue signaling in the art world. They don’t seem to understand the dilemma—some Dunning Kruger stuff going on.

I recently watched a video of a guy telling his viewers he can save them $100K and four years of their lives in 20 minutes (watch his video and be sure to like and subscribe! LOL). He claimed to debunk everything taught in undergraduate school while majoring in art. These videos may get clicks, but they are so far off the mark. I clicked on it and watched it for reasons that had nothing to do with what he was selling.

He was so far off about what he was saying, but you wouldn’t know that if you’ve never been to undergraduate school. He was showing abstract art from big names throughout history and asking the question, “Don’t you think you can do that?” Ridiculous. Text out of context is a pretext. In other words, you can grab anything, take it out of context, and make up anything you want about it. It’s a logical fallacy known as “contextomy or quote mining.” It’s a form of confirmation bias too. It’s bad to do.

Remember, undergraduate school provides more than classes on drawing, painting, and photography. You have to take other classes like writing, science, and history. It’s a liberal arts degree—it should give you the tools to have a basic understanding of a lot of things, not just art. He left all of that out of his video.

Let’s move on.

It brings me to my point: substance or symbolism?

Let me explain.

First, I want to discuss these in the context of art—but it would apply to your life in general—it does mine. It makes sense to define what we’re asking or talking about—first things first, in that order.

SYMBOLISM
I define symbolism as prioritizing symbols, imagery, and representations that convey cultural, emotional, or ideological meaning over technical execution. The artwork’s value is tied to the ideas, emotions, or concepts it symbolizes, rather than its craftsmanship or deeper intellectual substance. There’s a risk here. The work can be perceived as superficial or hollow if the symbolism isn’t backed by genuine exploration. Or it might lack lasting resonance or fail to engage the viewer deeply if the symbolic layer is all it offers.

SUBSTANCE
I define substance as work focused on the technical, regardless of whether it communicates through explicit symbolism. It prioritizes depth, exploration, and intrinsic meaning over the use of obvious or recognizable symbols. The value lies in how the art is created—its process, materials, or execution—not its meaning or symbolism.

In my opinion, good art balances symbolism and substance. Symbolism helps anchor meaning and make art more accessible. Substance ensures the work has depth, originality, and a lasting impact.

If you’ve read my book Chemical Pictures, you’ve likely come across the phrase “Concept AND Craft.” That’s how I frame essential questions about making art—you need both. One without the other is like a one-armed wallpaper hanger: inefficient at best, doomed at worst.

I’ve spoken about this often over the years, sometimes passionately. Some people push back, arguing that art doesn’t need to be explained. I agree—art doesn’t require explanation, but it does need context. There’s a fine line. Can you suffocate your work in artist statements and technical jargon? Absolutely. You can talk your work into oblivion. I’ve seen it happen: artists masking uncertainty with a cascade of art-world buzzwords, hoping to dazzle or confuse. It doesn’t work. People see through that.

There’s wisdom in Shakespeare’s line, “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.” Overselling or defending your art too aggressively reveals insecurity. Be mindful of how much you explain—substance should speak for itself. Balance meaning and execution and justify both.

Writing this book has been a transformative experience in my creative life. It’s shown me how much I’ve grown and how much more there is to learn. I like what Socates said: the only thing he really knew was that he knew nothing. I can relate.

Authenticity—being true to yourself—comes with time. Cultural pressures can be relentless when you’re building a career, raising a family, or trying to establish yourself as an artist. You’re often performing to fit in. But age changes that. You learn to stand by who you are, regardless of others’ opinions. Truth reigns supreme with age. A wonderful place to be.

“When others asked the truth of me, I was convinced it was not the truth they wanted, but an illusion they could bear to live with.” Anaïs Nin

Writing My Book and Telling My Stories

“In the Shadow of Sun Mountain: The Psychology of Othering and the Origins of Evil”

I wanted to share an update about my book. I’m excited about it!

I devote daily time to writing, reading, researching, making art, and most of all, thinking.

So far, my book breaks down something like this:

1
Introduction and Artist Statement
This chapter sets the stage for the book, explaining its purpose and relevance. It addresses some key questions. What is the book about, and why should a person read it? I introduce the themes, goals, and personal motivations driving this work. I also include my artist statement. It lays the foundation for the art itself, both technically and conceptually.

2
A Phenomenological Autobiography
Through personal stories, I explore how my life experiences have shaped my creative journey. This chapter demonstrates the deep connection between my artistic drive and the existential questions addressed by Becker's theories and Terror Management Theory (TMT). By connecting my own narrative to these frameworks, I provide insight into how creativity becomes a response to death anxiety or existential anxiety.

3
Ernest Becker
In this chapter, I delve into Becker’s groundbreaking theories, the denial of death and death anxiety. I supplement these with insights from anthropology, psychology, philosophy, theology, and art. I explain Becker's concept of the origins of evil, examining its definition and mechanisms, and scrutinizing the frequent attempts by humanity to eradicate perceived evil through acts of evil, using violence and dehumanization (oh, the irony!).

4
Terror Management Theory (TMT)
This chapter focuses on TMT and its relationship to Becker’s ideas, with a specific case study: the Tabeguache Ute Indians. I analyze how European colonizers used othering (Manifest Destiny) to justify acts of genocide and ethnocide against Native Americans, demonstrating the devastating consequences of existential anxiety, or death anxiety, on human behavior.

5
Artwork
Here, I present the artistic creations inspired by the concepts discussed in the previous chapters. This section ties theory and practice together, showing how my work embodies these existential and psychological themes. This chapter includes over a hundred photographic prints, paintings, and other visual media.

6
Essays
This chapter is a collection of essays I’ve written over the years, covering a range of topics from art and photography to philosophy and psychology. Along the way, you’ll find reviews and reflections on obscure ideas and peculiar subjects. The essays vary in length—some are just a few hundred words, while others span a couple of thousand. Their styles differ as well; some are explanatory, while others read more like personal journal entries.

Working It Out

It’s been a little over three years since I began writing this book and making art for it. In that time I’ve made considerable progress.

I’ve created a significant body of artwork, including the photographic prints for the book and several paintings. It has been an exciting journey, and I want to share it with those who have an interest in these theories and my work.

Drawing from the theories of Ernest Becker, Otto Rank, Terror Management Theory (TMT), and many others, I’ve used my personal experiences as a lens to investigate these existential questions. The work explores the psychology of othering, particularly through the historical lens of the Tabeguache Ute in Colorado, and delves into the roots of human evil—specifically, why people often mistreat those whose beliefs differ from their own.

I’ve been pleasantly surprised by how much I’ve enjoyed the writing process. It’s offered me profound insights into my identity and life experiences in ways I didn’t expect. Unlike photography, which captures a moment instantly, writing feels more akin to painting—it’s a slower, layered process. It generates ideas gradually, piece by piece, over time. This slower rhythm has been deeply rewarding, allowing ideas to mature and take shape in ways that feel both deliberate and organic.

A Tiny Preview of Some of My Stories

Jeanne and I spent the past week watching a Spanish series about a man who inherits the gift of premonitions from his mother. The story was intriguing and kept us engaged—it turned out to be a pretty enjoyable watch overall.

Watching it brought back memories of a trip I took to Mexico 36 years ago (see photo above). A group of friends traveled to Mazatlán, Mexico, to get out of the cold for a week—it was November 1988. One of our friends had a complete mental breakdown—he went into full-blown psychosis—at the end of the trip. It didn’t start until we were on the way home. The event lasted for several days. Like scenes from a horror film, I witnessed all of it firsthand. He ended up in a psychiatric hospital.

What happened? He went out one night with some locals—just two nights before the end of our trip. I tried to stop him but I couldn’t. He told me later that it involved methamphetamine, cocaine, and the Sinaloa Cartel (Cártel de Sinaloa).

What happened was surreal, a lot like the series we just watched. It prompted me to write about the experience in detail. I've come to understand that these kinds of experiences shaped both my creative life and my life in general. It’s like a long movie plot unfolding before me—the narrative arc—the more we observe, the more it reveals about who we are.

What I thought would never be relevant is central or key now to telling my story and the story of these theories I’m preoccupied with. In a lot of ways, it all fits together.

This story is in the second chapter of my book, which has about 15,000+ words so far and focuses on my family and friends. They are, in large part, the people who made me who I am.

From a young age, I was acutely aware of death—through tragic accidents, murder, suicide, drug addiction, war, and mental illness. These harsh realities seemed to loom around me. However, positive influences and uplifting experiences also surrounded me, shaping my early years.

The stories of my life begin around the age of eight and continue to the present day. I share memories of my mother, her deep love for humanity, and the lifelong battle she faced with mental illness. I also reflect on my grandmother’s fierce indignation whenever she heard racial slurs or witnessed people belittling those who were different. I’m so grateful for both of them.

I recount our family Thanksgiving dinners, where my mother would invite young men from the local Job Corps—African American, Native American, and Mexican American—making them welcome at our table every year. Our neighbors often didn’t know what to make of her; she was a profoundly progressive person, far ahead of her time.

One of the early stories recounts my heroin-addicted brother’s return from the Vietnam War. I write about the experience of traveling with my mother to the airport to pick him up. I’ve also written about my own experiences in the military, ten years after that, and the struggles I faced in its aftermath.

My writing delves into my time photographing dead bodies—gunshot wounds to the head, etc.—and the profound psychological impact it left on me.

I explore themes of drug use and overdoses, which have been a recurring presence in my life—friends and family dying from this kind of stuff. Most recently, my 61-year-old brother died in 2023 of methamphetamine toxcity. Alcohol and drug use was everywhere around me most of my life.

I witnessed a friend of mine shoot up Jack Daniels—yes, Jack Daniels, the whiskey. And yes, he put a needle in his arm and shot a syringe full of it into his vein. It was four o'clock in the morning—the party was still going, but there wasn’t any more cocaine available for him to shoot, snort, or smoke. I write about what he said, what he felt, etc. We gave him the nickname “Whiskey Pig” after that.

A few years later, his younger brother died of a drug overdose. During a lunch break from work, he bought some dope. He stopped at a red light in the middle of the city and injected the fentanyl-laced heroin he had just purchased. The dose was lethal—he died instantly, slumped over the steering wheel with the needle still in his arm.

These stories are my way of confronting those experiences and connecting them to the universal human search for meaning and the existential struggles that we all face. I explain how they have driven my creative life and the questions around existence.

My life is full of story after story about the struggles to exist—to cope with meaninglessness and insignificance. I’m sure I’m not the only one that could tell stories like these. However, they are uniquely mine and contrasted against the philosophical and psychological ideas around our existential struggles.

Isn't this the fundamental essence of existentialism? We are inherently searching for meaning in our lives when there is none. We crave significance and some kind of immortality that doesn’t exist. We lie and deny. We use our culture to provide meaning for us—we tranquilize ourselves with drugs, alcohol, shopping, fantasies, social media, fame, ideologies (religion, politics), or whatever can fill the void that faces us—mortality. It’s so clear to me.

Cultural constructs shape humanity, in my opinion. To me, most people are cuturally constructed meat puppets. Most people seem to be unaware of the importance of directly confronting and addressing the fundamental lie of existence—their mortality—and the consequences that ensue when they fail to do so.

That’s the theory of my book.

Existentialism, Absurdism, and Nihilism

It’s always a bit surprising to me when I meet creative people who aren’t into philosophy or psychology. To me, those topics are the backbone of a creative life—maybe that’s just my take—but they’ve always been a creative driver for me.

Philosophy and psychology offer so much to draw from as an artist. I've always been drawn to existentialism and consider myself an existential artist, incorporating elements of absurdism and nihilism into my work. That interest is actually what inspired me to write this.

If you’re curious, there are three philosophers you should definitely know about: Jean-Paul Sartre (Existentialism), Albert Camus (Absurdism), and Friedrich Nietzsche (Nihilism). They all wrestled with the big questions—why we’re here, what it all means, and how to navigate life’s inherent lack of meaning. Their ideas have shaped how I see the world, though for me, Ernest Becker and Terror Management Theory have added another layer that goes even deeper.

I’ll break down a bit about who these thinkers were and what they’re known for.

Jean-Paul Sartre, a French philosopher, lived from 1905 to 1980.

The term "existentialism" is commonly associated with him. I’m an existentialist. No question about that. But I lean into all of the ideas around existentialism. Jean-Paul Sartre's existentialist philosophy centered on the idea that humans have absolute freedom to create their own values, purpose, and meaning in life.

Sartre believed that humans are "condemned to be free" and that existence precedes essence. I agree with his sentiments. He thought freedom was the bigger issue. Becker made a similar argument about the fear of living. True freedom scares people—we want to be told what to do and how to live—hence culture.

The old Greek thinkers thought that “essence” preceded existence. In other words, everyone is born with a purpose. It's evident to me that this is not the case. Sartre meant we need to assign meaning to our lives—we need to find or create constructs that keep us going. That’s evident to me, and Becker/TMT drives this point home.

The meaningless in your life is a gift. You can assign any meaning you want to it. Life is fleeting. You’re entirely free to make your life mean something. That is true freedom.

Bad faith. Sartre defined "bad faith" as a central concept in his work that describes the act of self-deception, or deceiving oneself into not having the freedom to make choices. Sartre believed that people act in bad faith to avoid short-term pain but end up suffering long-term psychological consequences. He believed that people can only realize their full potential as human beings by making difficult choices. He also believed that people who act in bad faith are more like objects in the world than conscious human beings.

According to Sartre, we have complete freedom over our lives in a world without religion or objective meaning, but with enormous power comes immense responsibility. Let that sink in for a moment: you have the power to shape the life you want to live. Most people are like robots—programmed by culture—culturally constructed meat puppets. This time of year, I see it ramp up to the extremes.

You can make wise decisions for yourself, but how do you know which ones are good? How often do you act against your own self-interest and experience positive moments when things are going well for you?

Sartre died from pulmonary edema (“wet lungs”)—probably from smoking.

Albert Camus, a French/Algerian philosopher, lived from 1913 to 1960.

Albert Camus is the father of “absurdism.” He said, “The literal meaning of life is whatever you’re doing that prevents you from killing yourself.” Nothing could be more straightforward than that. At its core, Becker also discusses this concept, albeit from an existentialist perspective rather than an absurdist’s one. Your cultural worldview or meaning system is what sustains your existence. Period.

Camus addresses the search for meaning but says that the universe is indifferent to our need for meaning. This is where the concept of absurdity becomes relevant. It’s an adjective that’s defined as utterly or obviously senseless, illogical, or untrue; contrary to all reason or common sense; laughably foolish or false. According to Camus, our need and search for meaning are absurd. It’s meaningless. How absurd! Having said that, he doesn’t recommend suicide—that’s allowing the absurdity of life to win; he doesn’t recommend religion or any ideology (nationalism, capitalism, etc.); he called that philisophical suicide. He recommends facing the absurdity (a form of rebelling) and being content. His famous line is “One must imagine Sisyphus happy.”

“If the world were clear, art would not exist.”

— Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus

Camus is saying that the very lack of clarity in the world—its absurdity—gives rise to art. And I would add that art (creative life) plays a major role in quelling death anxiety—maybe just another way of saying it. Art is humanity’s way of contending with the questions that have no final answers and finding beauty, connection, and expression within that struggle.

Camus died in a car accident in 1960.

Friedrich Nietzsche (1844–1901) was a German philosopher and critic.

People often cite Nietzsche as a nihilist. I suppose he was a kind of nihilist (and not), but he offered more in terms of thought and purpose than most nihilists do. His famous quote is “God is dead.” People frequently quote it, often taking it out of context. The full quote is: “God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers?”

Nietzsche intended the quote to reflect the changes he saw in European society at the time and to urge people to wake up to the rapid changes in Western culture. He was making a valid point in saying that Christianity was the foundation of meaning and purpose for almost two millenia, and now technology has taken its place, leaving people confused and depressed (or lost) trying to find meaning without religion. Can you imagine what he’d say today? Oy! He wanted to hasten nilhisim in the hope of getting past it—that's the optimistic par’t happen.

Speaking of artists inspired by philosophy, you can listen to Black Sabbath's "God is Dead" song (video below). It’s classic Black Sabbath! Nietzsche’s quote is at the heart of it.

Was Nietzsche a nihilist? Nihilism is the belief in nothing. Extreme pessimism and radical skepticism, which condemn existence, are often associated with nihilism. A true nihilist would believe in nothing, have no loyalties, and have no purpose other than, perhaps, an impulse to destroy (destorying might be a purpose). I’m skeptical that anyone alive is a true nihilist. If you were a true nihilist, you would have died by suicide the second you truly believed in nothing.

In my personal opinion, Nietzsche embodied a kind of optimistic nihilism—I don’t believe he was a hardcore nihilist. Your opinion may be different.

Nietzsche died from a stroke. They say he was insane (possibly from syphilis).

“Abiogenesis,” 7” x 5", November 30, 2024, acrylic on paper.

The Kiss

“You can’t read Becker without dealing with your own darkness.”

— Sam Keen

I want to talk about two things in this post. They are related but different.

I just watched the documentary from twobirdsfilm.com about Ernest Becker called “All Illusions Must Be Broken.” A wonderful film. I applaud them. I can’t imagine the amount of work that took to make. I strongly encourage you to watch it.

The second item is the photograph posted here, Witkin’s image called “The Kiss.”

SAM KEEN’S INTERVIEW WITH ERNEST BECKER (1924–1974)
In December of 1973, Sam Keen recorded an interview with Ernest Becker. Becker was dying of colon cancer.

The recordings of Becker are the driving force of the film. Keen did a fantastic job with his interview. He asked relevant and deep questions. The article was published in Psychology Today in April of 1974. Becker died in March, just a month earlier. Becker said he felt wistful that he wouldn’t be around to read the article. It was sad to hear him talk about it. What a tremendous loss. To me, he is one of the greatest philosophers and thinkers of the 20th century.

“The fear of life and the fear of death are the mainsprings of human activity. Everything can be explained from those fears.”

— Ernest Becker

I really enjoyed hearing Becker’s words. So precise, so thoughtful, and so honest. He was a popular professor everywhere he taught. He packed the auditoriums when he lectured—standing room only—people were waking up. He asked the big questions, the unanswerable questions, and gave plausible, insightful suggestions to why we fear death so much and what shields us from the terror of meaninglessness and insignificance. I agree with Becker when he says the fear of death is the mainspring of human activity. Everything reduces to that. Everything.

Sam Keen says something in the beginning of the film that is profound; I’ve experienced it many times. He’s talking about telling people about death anxiety and how the fear of death drives human behavior. He said, “You’re just going to object to that unless you’re willing to look at your own defenses against mortality. Now, do you want to sit for that or not? No, I think I’d rather go to the circus.“ That hit hard. And so very true.

Becker talks about the origins of evil. “All humanly caused evil is based on man’s attempt to deny his creatureliness. To overcome his insignificance.” This is so clear for me to see in the world today. It’s always been there. I’ve talked a lot about my interest in our animality (humans are animals, contrary to popoular belief and denial). Creatureliness is the same thing. It drives us to supremacy—we do everything we can to rise above it because animals, or creatures, die.

THE KISS BY JOEL PETER WITKIN
If you’ve read my blog for a while, you know I like Witkin and his work. He’s been an influence in my creative life for over 30 years. His work is a brilliant example of existentialism. He deals with death and the fear of it. He deals with the fragility of the human body, decay, and non-existentance.

The Kiss depicts the bisected head of a cadaver reassembled to create the illusion of two people kissing. This work reflects Witkin's fascination with dualities like life and death, love and decay, and the sacred and profane. He’s exceptional at bringing these ideas to the forefront of consciousness.

Witkin often used human remains as part of his compositions. For The Kiss, he likely sourced the bisected cadaver from a medical or scientific institution (no one really knows). It’s true that he had a controversial history of navigating legal and ethical boundaries to acquire such materials. He was often criticized for his approach to the material and images.

“I never photograph anything I don’t believe in. If I love working with death, it’s because even in death I find this power of reality that no sculptor or painter could recreate, not even a Michelangelo or a Da Vinci.”

— Joel-Peter Witkin

He employed dramatic chiaroscuro lighting, influenced by Baroque painters like Caravaggio (one of my favorites), to create a haunting yet reverent atmosphere. He constructed a simple but evocative backdrop to focus attention on the subject. Witkin's prints are renowned for their handcrafted quality. In the darkroom, he used techniques such as scratching, bleaching, and toning to distress the surface of the print, adding layers of texture and enhancing the sense of decay. He often employed sepia or gold toning to give his images a timeless, antique feel, aligning them with his themes of mortality and transcendence. It makes you wonder why he never pursued the wet collodion process. The wet collodion era aligns with themes of death and remembrance that resonate in Witkin's oeuvre, as 19th-century photography often dealt with post-mortem imagery and memento mori.

Witkin’s characteristic lighting and framing amplified the emotional and symbolic resonance of the image. His use of chiaroscuro draws attention to the textures and details of the bisected head, reinforcing the tension between beauty and horror. By literally splitting the head, he transforms the human form into an artifact that interrogates identity, intimacy, and the fragility of life. The physical intervention underscores the artist’s willingness to challenge taboos to confront the viewer with existential questions.

A friend sent me a good article about the purpose of art. The question was, “Can art make the world a better place?” I’ve thought about this question a lot. I’m not sure it can. I tend to agree with the author—she’s right when she talks about making art dangerous again—that’s where the power in art resides for me—it always has. I think Witkin accomplished this and then some.

Today, I make art that first and foremost quells my existential concerns, and then I put it out into the world and never really consider it again. That’s the purpose of art for me. Does it make the world better? Is it dangerous? I don’t know, and honestly, I don’t care.

The Corporeal Fantasy Concept and Consciousness

Two ideas that have been rolling around in my head lately are the corporeal fantasy—overcoming the physical limitations of the human body—and the idea of consciousness.

Consciousness
I have a question (or maybe several) about consciousness. The first one to address is, What is it?

Billie Eilish has a song called "bury a Friend." The lyrics in part say,
"What do you want from me?
Why don't you run from me?
What are you wondering?
What do you know?
Why aren't you scared of me?
Why do you care for me?
When we all fall asleep, where do we go?"

Eilish asks a great question about consciousness there: "When we all fall asleep, where do we go?” I’m going out on a limb here and say that she’s addressing sleep, not death (see the video below). However, I could be wrong. The question still stands. What happens to “us” or our “consciousness” when we are in deep, dreamless sleep? Where are “we”? Moreover, where is our consciousness?

Have you ever been put under anesthesia? Where do “you” go? Where is your awareness or consciousness then? Is that what death is like?

Do we “die” every night if we go into deep, dreamless sleep? It’s an intriguing question to think about.

Somniphobia is the extreme fear of sleep. I wonder if the underlying reason for that phobia is death or death anxiety.

“50 Million Years Ago,” 12 × 9 acrylic and mixed media— October 2025
50 million years ago, you walked upon this planet so
god of all that you could see, just a little bit like me 
The Police

The Corporeal Fantasy Concept
How is “corporeal fantasy” defined? The term refers to the symbolic and psychological structures we construct to cope with the reality of our bodily existence, including its vulnerability, decay, and ultimate mortality. The corporeal fantasy serves as a kind of defense mechanism or imaginative framework that allows us to transcend, obscure, or deny the limitations imposed by our physical being.

This fantasy can manifest in cultural ideals of beauty, strength, and health, portraying the body as invulnerable or eternal. Many corporeal fantasies are linked to the idea of symbolic immortality (more later), where individuals seek to live on through their legacy, cultural impact, or even through religious or spiritual beliefs.

Becker doesn’t use the term corporeal fantasy, but his work provides a foundation for understanding it. He argues that much of human culture is built around denying the reality of death, with the body representing the primary site of this denial. Symbolic immortality, achieved through religion, art, or legacy, can be seen as a form of corporeal fantasy.

You’ve probably heard me talk about our animality. This also fascinates me. How we deny our animal nature. The things we do are beyond bizarre when you deconstruct them. We want to think of ourselves as above the animal. Why is that? Well, we know what happens to animals: they die. Animals are part of nature, and nature also can bring anxiety to the forefront. We tend to like suburbs and cities more when reminded of death (The Worm at the Core: On the Role of Death in Life).

"We live in a world where the body—a biological creature that lives and dies—is a source of both shame and fear, a reminder of our helpless animal condition." Ernest Becker The Denial of Death.

Becker often emphasized that "animality" is not just about the physicality of humans but also about their instinctual drives, which are at odds with their symbolic capacity for meaning. This conflict, he argued, underpins much of human anxiety and culture itself.

The authors of The Worm at the Core: On the Role of Death in Life expand on Ernest Becker’s ideas and explore how humans deal with their awareness of mortality and their "animality"—the aspects of themselves that tie them to the natural, physical world. They explain how people use cultural worldviews (meaning systems), self-esteem, and symbolic immortality to transcend their animal nature.

Cultural worldviews, or meaning systems, are systems of belief that provide meaning, significance, order, and a sense of permanence. These help people feel they are part of something larger and enduring, distancing themselves from their physical, mortal nature. They also push back on our animality.

It's fascinating to see how some people take offense when someone refers to humans as animals. For me, this is simply a statement about our biological condition. What makes us different than any other animal? Biologically speaking, nothing.

Denying our animality is part of our evolutionary system of denying and lying about our condition. We loathe calling ourselves animals—it’s an insult to us. We do everything we can to rise above it—we strive for immortality because the thought of not existing anymore is unbearable. One of my favorite quotes is from the 19th-century French poet Arthur Rimbaud. He said, “The only unbearable thing is that nothing is unbearable.“ The feedback loop is ever present with these ideas and our condition.

Self-esteem acts as a buffer against existential anxiety by affirming a person’s value within their cultural framework. People work hard to gain social approval, promotions, awards, and other signs of worth that elevate them above "mere animals." Identifying as more virtuous or righteous than others reinforces a sense of transcendence over physicality and mortality. A kind of moral superiority.

“Each person nourishes his immortality in the ideology of self-perpetuation to which he gives self-allegiance; this gives life the only abiding significance it can have. 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.”

— Ernest Becker, Escape from Evil

Humans seek ways to leave a lasting impact that will outlive their physical bodies. This involves engaging in projects or pursuits that symbolically defy mortality. Artists create works to achieve immortality by being remembered for their contributions. Having children is a biological and symbolic way of extending oneself into the future (legacies). And many seek to build or contribute to structures, ideas, or movements that endure beyond their lives (legacies).

Many religions promise an afterlife, eternal soul, or reincarnation, offering the hope of escaping the finality of death. Patriotism ties individuals to a legacy that transcends their own lives, making them part of an enduring collective.

Whatever illusion, myth, or immortality project you use to get through each day doesn’t really matter. What matters is that you have one—at least one. When your culture doesn’t provide people with constructs to lean on, individuals will become depressed, anxious, or have other mental health issues. These illusions are important. However, when challenged or threatened, these illusions can also lead to significant issues.

Religions and political positions come to mind. Threatening someone else's religious beliefs or having yours threatened can ignite wars. Same with politics or any dogma. We’ve witnessed this every day throughout the world for millennia.

It’s essential to be self-aware about your differences with others. And when your construct or belief system is challenged, and it will be, you need to be hypervigilant about how you respond. That’s the essence of what I’m concerned about today.

The world is in chaos today. Some might argue it’s always been this way, and I wouldn’t disagree. It seems more palpable because of technology now. We’re aware; we hear about it even if we don’t want to. I believe this chaos—whether it’s Russia and Ukraine, Israel and Palestine, or America’s huge political divide—red versus blue—all stems from threatened cultural worldviews or meaning systems. They are all responses to having meaning systems challenged by something different.

This is where Becker and TMT hit the nail on the head. If you point to a conflict between human beings, I can show you the psychological underpinnings of that conflict 99% of the time. It’s simple for me to see this, and I wonder why so many can’t. Am I off? Am I wrong? If I am, I’m open to correction.

"Each person nourishes his immortality in the ideology of self-perpetuation to which he gives self-allegiance; this gives life the only abiding significance it can have. 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." Ernest Becker, Escape from Evil

I've Finally Deleted My Social Media Accounts: But That's Not the Point

FACEBOOK AND INSTAGRAM ARE DELETED!

It’s taken me forever to do this! Facebook and Instagram make it ridiculously difficult to do—another reason to quit them. I’ll talk about the bigger reasons later in this post.

I’m keeping my YouTube channel and will post videos there from time to time.

But who cares, right? Which brings me to my rant.

THE REALITY IS: NOBODY CARES

It’s not the first time I’ve said this, but I’ll say it again in celebration of unchaining myself from the AI algorithms: Nobody cares about your artwork, your interests, or your life (in general).

And this applies to me, first and foremost.

I understand that those are challenging words to read! I get it. But it’s true. And if you give me a chance to make my case, you’ll see why this is essential to embrace and believe. I might even say you should embody this idea. I learned this a long time ago. It’s not a negative thing. In the end, it will help drive your art and your life in a better, more authentic, peaceful direction.

I recommend that you find your own space to post your work—without any expectations—simply to quell your anxiety and satisfy the psychological need to offer art and ideas to the world. That’s what I do here. If people read it, great. If they don’t, great. The idea is to have an outlet that’s not tied to social media companies scraping your data and personal information.

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

— Anonymous

I’m not saying people want bad things to happen to you; they don’t (for the most part anyway). I’m saying that your day-to-day life and your hobbies, interests, and activities are meaningless to them.

They don’t care.

They don’t have the time or energy to care. They’re too busy trying to earn a living (money), working a job, paying bills, taking care of children, spouses, partners, parents, health issues, and other stuff. Life stuff.

They’re preoccupied, and it doesn’t involve anything you’re doing. Life is very challenging for most people. There’s no room for your obscure interests and strange ramblings (I’m projecting here a bit *wink*).

You might be thinking, “Wait a minute! People send me emails and give me likes about my work.” I know. There are people who do that. Some may show passing interest, but that’s it. You need to realize that after they click the “like” or “heart” icon, two minutes later they’ve forgotten about you and your work.

And when they send you an email or message, they’re usually after something. And yes, they might even include compliments about your work. It’s mostly a quid-pro-quo kind of thing. This is not a hard and fast fact, but the majority of the time it’s true. People are selfish. I’m sure you know that already.

When you come to terms with this, you’ll stop striving for people’s attention and accolades (it’s your attempt at bolstering your self-esteem to quell your existential dread). You will realize that it’s meaningless and a waste of your time and energy—it will burn you out—I’ve seen it happen.

If you face the fact that it’s YOU who are interested in what YOU are doing, and if you’re authentic and sincere, you won’t give a second thought to what others think. Even if they show some superficial interest in what you’re saying or doing. Make the work, put it out there, and let go—that’s all you need to do. Period.

This is true creative freedom for me. Life-changing freedom. It brings peace and gratitude into your life.

Years ago, I realized that my education, life experiences, exhibitions, published books, artwork sales, book sales, workhops (teaching), etc. mean nothing to anyone except me. It sounds like navel gazing, but it’s not.

Understanding this means coming to terms with where you derive meaning and significance—the two things that we need for psychological equilibrium.

I’ve chosen the life of an artist or creative person as my buffer against death anxiety. We all need to find something. You can pick a “nondestructive myth” or a “destructive myth” (to use Pruyser’s terminology). "Nondestructive myths" function as psychological shields against death anxiety, a key theme in terror management theory. Pruyser’s notion of cultivating illusions that "will not deteriorate into delusions" aligns with the psychological challenge of balancing necessary fictions (like cultural worldviews and personal identities) with reality—especially when these fictions protect us from existential dread but, when rigid, can foster denial and destructive behavior—i.e., "destructive myths.”

The fantasy has always been to have a community where artists understand and support one another. That doesn’t exist and never will. Human beings are too irrational, too self-centered, and too selfish for those to exist.

Embrace your solitude. You should actively choose to spend time alone in this respect, not feeling lonely but instead using the time to focus on yourself, reflect on your thoughts and feelings, and engage in creating art that brings you personal fulfillment, essentially seeing the positive aspects of being alone and making art a conscious part of your life.

That’s both meaningful and significant.

DELETING MY SOCIAL MEDIA ACCOUNTS AND THE CHANGING WORLD

I have to be honest; the political environment played a big role in my decision. Not 100%, but it played a part. And this was pre-election (America).

What’s happened to this country? What’s happened to the people here? We need to teach critical thinking, media literacy, and civics in school again. But I know it’s too late.

I’m reminded of the book The Fourth Turning by Howe and Strauss. According to them, we’re in the fourth turning now—the crisis period. “This is an era of destruction, often involving war or revolution, in which institutional life is destroyed and rebuilt in response to a perceived threat to the nation's survival. After the crisis, civic authority revives, cultural expression redirects toward community purpose, and people begin to locate themselves as members of a larger group.” (pg. 103-104)

It’s about generational memory loss. Every 80-100 years, called a saeculum, the world has faced the same thing, over and over again. If you’re unfamiliar with the book. You should read it. It’s grounded in historical events that are connected through these cycles.

The dark side of social media is real as well. Narcissism abounds on these platforms. It’s most often the people who are the most insecure (hence the narcissism) that do this. Most people post with the (unconscious) desire to show how their life is wonderful and much better than yours. “Look how successful, pretty, rich, etc. I am!” It’s a sad state of affairs. The curated lives on these platforms are phony beyond words. It has a detrimental effect on young, vulnerable people’s mental health. Look at the suicide rates of the young and vulnerable—social media has played a role in that.

Social media has also played a big part in this political and environmental meltdown. The misinformation and disinformation abound. It’s a platform for people to show their Dunning-Kruger effect on any topic. They’ll argue about anything and be right and certain about it.

The anti-intellectualism is terrible on social media—glaring in your face every time you log on. I can’t expose myself to that kind of stuff any longer. My head spins when I see flat-earth believers arguing with scientists, telling them that they’ve “done their research.” My head spins when I see videos of people talking about the U.S. government creating hurricanes and tornadoes. Conspiracy theory after conspiracy theory. No more for me; I’ve tapped out.

It’s true that social media created an environment where creatives could post whatever they make and hope to get sales, subscriptions, revenue, etc. If your goal is financial-based or you’re seeking recognition, it might work for a month or two, but there will be a heavy price to pay mentally and other ways. It’s just not worth it. Period.

This has led so many people down the rabbit hole of inauthenticity and burnout.

Algorithms (AI) now control most of the internet. And it will only get worse from here.

In order to even be seen (or listed anywhere in people’s feeds), you need to design content for the AI algorithm, not what you’re truly interested in.

I see this on YouTube quite a bit. People create content that is over-the-top, unreal, fake, and weird. It’s a bit unsettling to me to see people sell out like that. They know it needs to be sensational or people won’t watch it, share it, or “like” it. And if they don’t do that, the content is deprioritized. Nobody will see it.

The best content I’ve ever seen online has very few followers and very few views. That says a lot to me—volumes, in fact. I get it. My interests and commerce have very little in common.

It’s a game that deals with eyeballs, clicks, and revenue.

Quinn by the Palm Trees - Las Cruces, New Mexico. November 2024

SO WHAT’S YOUR POINT?

I make art and write primarily to quell my existential concerns. That’s first and foremost.

I study, write, read, and explore in hopes of understanding the human condition a bit better. I want to understand myself better, too.

That’s important for me because I would like to contribute on the macro level (big picture) of conversation about existential struggles. I’m not concerned about whether I’ll be remembered or not—I know I won’t be.

I want to add a line to the discourse—even anonymously—that is helpful in some way of making existing a little easier to understand. I want to share ideas about creativity and psychology. That’s all I want to do—Becker would say I’m grasping for symbolic immortality—and I would say he’s probably correct.

To reiterate, nobody cares about my photographs, paintings, or art. They don’t care about some obscure anthropologist’s theories I espouse. They don’t care about what degrees I have or what exhibitions or books I’ve published. Nobody cares about what I think in general.

What people care about is furthering their existence—supporting and bolstering their worldviews or meaning systems—with ideas and information that support them.

If I offer a nugget of information or inspiration here or there that they can connect to, that’s all that matters. They’ll take it, and they’ll move on to the next resource to see what they can get. That’s all.

In the end, it’s all meaningless. We’re just trying to lean on whatever we can to get through each day.

If you can see yourself as an anonymous contributor to the “big picture,” you will not only bolster your self-esteem; you’ll be more in touch with what’s real and not connected to an illusion of ego and importance.

Think about your cosmic insignificance. I really like what Zapffe said in The Last Messiah, "The life of the worlds is a roaring river, but Earth's is a pond and backwater. The sign of doom is written on your brows—how long will you kick against the pinpricks?"

I know you don’t care, but from this point forward, the only place you’ll find my work is here and on my YouTube channel. Feel free to join in or not. It’s all going to be okay—go the way of the grasshopper and be content. That’s what I’m trying to do.

“…that it takes sixty years of suffering and effort to make such an individual, and then he is good only for dying. This painful paradox is not lost on the person himself — least of all himself. He feels agonizingly unique, and yet he knows that this doesn’t make any difference as far as the ultimates are concerned. He has to go the way of the grasshopper, even if takes longer.”

— Ernest Becker

Confronting the Void

I’m considering what the title of my doctoral dissertation might be.

The school calls it a “vision-seed.” It’s an interesting way to put it. It makes sense. They say:

“Growing Your Vision-Seed
In our new transdisciplinary applied doctoral program, the PhD in Visionary Practice & Regenerative Leadership, each student begins their journey with the spark of an idea or a desire, a personal calling. We call this initial spark the vision-seed. Our program is designed to help students nurture, incubate, develop, and bring to fruition this life-giving spark as they fulfill their unique purpose.”

There’s no doubt it will change over time. I’m going into this doctoral program with a confident plan. The ideas may shift a bit as I work my way through, but the main thesis will remain in tact to the end.

My dissertation title is "Confronting the Void: An Examination of Death Anxiety, Death Denial, and Terror Management Theory Through Artistic and Cultural Lenses.” This may change, and it might not. Everything is fluid at this point.

The main point of the work will be working through the theories as they apply to creative people. I’m using myself as the subject, and possibly others as I move through the program; I’m not sure. The dissertation will deal with the intersection of mortality and art—how does a creative person process their mortality? Is it different from a non-creative person?

For the past couple of years, I’ve been writing an autobiography (the best way to describe it) to examine my own journey and how I came to art through my life experiences. I’ve blended that writing with these theories and my artwork. I feel like it will be a powerful narrative in the end. Describing how creative people deal with the knowledge of their death.

Ernest Becker said: “Man is out of nature and hopelessly in it; he is dual, up in the stars and yet housed in a heart-pumping, breath-gasping body that once belonged to a fish and still carries the gill-marks to prove it. His body is a material fleshy casing that is alien to him in many ways—the strangest and most repugnant way being that it aches and bleeds and will decay and die. 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.” (Denial of Death)

To be forgotten and not matter (impermanence and insignificance) is unbearable psychologically speaking. We don’t want to be a nameless, faceless, forgotten being. We long for recognition. We long to be noticed and admired. We long for immortality, literal or symbolic.

Why do we get up every day? What drives us? What is the essence of human nature? Culture offers a range of possibilities for heroism or immortality projects, in which death is denied and an illusion of immortality constructed. These illusions buffer death anxiety, making it possible to function day-to-day.

Most people fail to recognize their condition. Their illusions ensnare them so deeply that they fail to recognize reality and the weight of consciousness. This is how evolutionary psychology describes the defense mechanisms against the knowledge of death. The coping mechanisms work for most people—look at the world around you— look at how people spend their time doing trivial, meaningless stuff. It’s all a distraction from confronting the void or coming to terms with death.

“Becker Faces: Subconjunctival Hemorrhage,” watercolor on paper. Sometimes, the panic and anxiety are palpable in people. I’ve been exploring painting these “Becker Faces” with watercolor. There are a few I like. Watercolor gives a certain freedom, and the way it blends and separates at the same time is beautiful. 

Zdzislaw Beksinski - Polish Horror Painter and Photographer

Eating spider people.

Zdzislaw Beksinski was a Polish horror painter and photographer.

His work fascinates me. I like what Populist magazine said about his work. “Things aren’t pretty all the time. Life isn’t always handed to you wrapped up with a bow. The work of Zdzislaw Bekinski will remind you of that.” An existentialist artist by definition.

He was murdered in 2005. Stabbed to death over money—about $100 USD. His life seemed to end in a horror show, much like his paintings depicted. I know he never assigned “meaning” to his work. In his case, I don’t think he needs to. I rarely say that about any artwork. I get why he said it.

All of his work was untitled. Again, I get it. There is a danger of over-explaining or explaining away your work. See Susan Sontag’s writing on this topic. She believed that interpretation can be harmful to art and the viewer's experience of it. In her 1964 essay, "Against Interpretation"” she argued that the modern style of interpretation separates form and content, which can damage the artwork and the viewer's appreciation of it.

I see him as an existential nihilist in some ways, as it refers to meaning in art. He was quoted as saying, “Meaning is meaningless.” That sums up his existential struggles quite well in my mind.

Prussian blue. In the wet collodion photographic process, I use potassium cyanide to “fix” the images. It removes all of the unexposed silver from the plate. Before I use the potassium cyanide, I develop the image with an iron/acid developer. When iron is mixed with cyanide, it creates prussian blue. I’ve seen it in the process many times. I saw this in the gas chambers in Europe when I visited the death camps. I was shocked to see Beksinski using it in his paintings. Such powerful symbolism.

The “prussian blue” figure and Latin inscription: The Latin phrase in hoc signo vinces translates to "in this sign you will conquer." It was used as a military motto by Constantine the Great in the early 4th century. The phrase comes from a vision Constantine had before a battle, where he saw a cross with the words inscribed on it. This vision was a key moment in Constantine's conversion, and he went on to become the first Christian ruler.

The prussian blue figure again and religious figures.

I relate to his color palette or choice of colors a lot. The warm, muted tones. Really beautiful.

                                                              “Fear,” 2004 - my tribute to Beskinski - black glass ambrotype

“Death Camp, Germany,” 2009 

Self portrait - 1956-57

Anxiety, Depression, and Art

There are a lot of topics that are off limits to discuss in American culture.

We’re basically taught to steer clear of talking about things like death, mental health, sex, religion, and politics. You know, the stuff that gets people riled up or makes them super uncomfortable and sometimes extremely angry.

Bringing up these taboo subjects can even lead to people acting out aggressively. And honestly, with the way things are right now, I wouldn’t be surprised if we see some of that in the coming days or weeks. I’m really hoping it doesn’t happen, but I’m not holding my breath.

In this post, I’m going to address one of the big ones: mental health issues and the death anxiety connection.

DEATH ANXIETY & MENTAL HEALTH

I would propose that, like death, mental illness is something we don’t understand. The human brain is very complex. It will be a long time before we can address mental health issues like a broken leg or a common cold.

We’re frightened of things we can’t explain or understand. We typically repress them or make something up to explain them (i.e., conspiracy theories).

We live in a death-denying culture. We lie and deny all of the time about uncomfortable facts. Humans generally don’t seek truth; they seek out what makes them feel good; this is called confirmation bias.

Confirmation bias is a cognitive bias that involves favoring information that confirms one's preexisting beliefs or hypotheses. It causes people to seek out, interpret, and remember evidence in a way that reinforces their views while disregarding or downplaying information that contradicts them. This bias can influence decision-making and perception, often leading to flawed conclusions because it limits a person's ability to objectively evaluate information.

In their book Denial: Self-Deception, False Beliefs, and the Origins of the Human Mind, Ajit Varki and Danny Brower present a compelling theory that denial and self-deception are integral components of human evolution. They propose that the capacity for self-awareness combined with an understanding of mortality should have led to debilitating levels of anxiety, potentially preventing early humans from functioning effectively or thriving.

To cope with this awareness of death, humans developed a psychological mechanism of denial. They contend that by suppressing their constant anxiety over mortality, humans were able to innovate, take risks, and pursue their goals without feeling paralyzed by fear. Lying and self-deception, as extensions of this denial, became adaptive traits, contributing to the survival and advancement of human beings.

They suggest that these traits are essential for human society but come with significant consequences, such as the persistence of irrational beliefs and the difficulty in addressing existential truths. Which brings me to my point.

MY EXPERIENCE WITH MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES

Depression and anxiety are two sides of the same coin. I know about both of them.

This is not about the “madness” of creative people or some old trope about being mentally ill as a great way to access creativity. I don’t buy into a lot of that nonsense. I don’t believe it works that way at all. In fact, I would argue the exact opposite: art is created to quell existential concerns, not because of them. The cart and horse analogy would apply here.

For most of my adult life, at least since my mid-to-late twenties (post military), I’ve suffered from anxiety and sometimes depression. It’s varied in form; sometimes completely disabling and other times only mild and kind of an inconvenience.

“Man stands face to face with the irrational. He feels within him his longing for happiness and for reason. The absurd is born of this confrontation between the human need and the unreasonable silence of the world.”

— Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus

I never know why or when it’s going to show up. There is always a "rumble,” just below the surface, and I’m never really completely free from it. The anxiety part is the biggest problem for me. I do turn to making art when it hits.

Art has helped me a lot. However, since reading Becker and studying terror management theory, I think I have a better handle on what it is and even ways to deal with it from an analytical perspective—in my own way. I try to break down these complex concepts into smaller parts to understand how they work, relate to each other, or contribute to the whole. This helps me. Or at least gives me some comfort.

What causes anxiety or depression? That depends on who you ask. I would answer it like this: When a person suffers from depression or anxiety, the blinders about life are lifted. The person sees and feels the world for what it is—a terrifying, meaningless place. Zapffe used the term cosmic panic to describe an overwhelming existential realization of the absurdity and meaninglessness of human existence in the universe. In essence, the person’s illusions are no longer in place or meaningful. These illusions, whatever they might be, are disabled, and existence reveals itself for what it really is.

That explanation for me is real. I’ve lived it and continue to live it every day. Ernest Becker made it very clear that if we didn’t have illusions or constructs to lean on, we would be in a state of constant dread or terror. He said without illusions to quell our death anxiety, human beings would face a psychological crisis. In his book The Denial of Death, he argued that humans are unique in their awareness of mortality, which creates an existential fear. To cope with this, we construct illusions or "immortality projects" that give our lives meaning, such as creative projects, religious beliefs, political beliefs, and achievements that help us feel part of something enduring or “immortal.”

If these illusions are stripped away (via anxiety or depression), Becker believed that we would experience paralyzing dread or even nihilism, making it difficult or impossible to function or find purpose. This unbearable fear of death, left unchecked, could result in significant psychological distress and societal chaos, as people would lack the comforting frameworks that provide a sense of continuity and hope. In essence, our illusions shield us from the raw awareness of our impermanence, allowing us to live more manageable and motivated lives.

Art and a creative life give me meaning and purpose. Do I know, intellectually speaking, that my art is meaningless and won’t endure? Yes, I do. However, for me to function every day, I need to make art, and I need to pursue my preoccupation with human behavior.

In the words of Albert Camus, “Man stands face to face with the irrational. He feels within him his longing for happiness and for reason. The absurd is born of this confrontation between the human need and the unreasonable silence of the world.” The Myth of Sisyphus.

Revisiting Peter Wessel Zapffe and The Last Messiah (1933)

There are several figures in history that I believe are worth a second or third look concerning death anxiety and creativity.

Peter Wessel Zapffe is one of them.

He was a Norwegian pessimistic philosopher who wrote the essay The Last Messiah (1933).

Zapffe was born in 1899 in Tromsø Municipality, Norway. He died in 1990. He was 90 years old. He loved mountain climbing and photography. Norway has archived thousands of his images. He practiced law for several years as well.

It’s not a stretch to say he was an existential nihilist as well as a pessimistic philosopher. He had some very profound ideas about consciousness, death anxiety, and human behavior. Arthur Schopenhauer (1788–1860), a German pessimistic philosopher, had a significant influence on him. Heidegger, Kierkegaard, and Nietzsche all had an indirect influence on him.

I’m going to start with a quote from the ending of the essay:

Peter Wessel Zapffe

"The life of the worlds is a roaring river, but Earth's is a pond and backwater.
The sign of doom is written on your brows—how long will you kick against the pinpricks?
But there is one conquest and one crown, one redemption and one solution.
Know yourselves—be infertile and let the earth be silent after you."
Peter Zapffe, The Last Messiah

Let’s break this down.

"The life of the worlds is a roaring river, but Earth's is a pond and backwater."
This suggests a contrast between the larger, cosmic scale of existence ("roaring river") and the small, stagnant, and insignificant nature of life on Earth ("pond and backwater"). Zapffe often emphasized the insignificance of human life in the grand scheme of the universe.

"The sign of doom is written on your brows—how long will you kick against the pinpricks?"
The "sign of doom" portends destruction or meaninglessness for humanity. The phrase "kick against the pinpricks" refers to resisting inevitable suffering or unpleasant truths. Zapffe sees human life as an ongoing struggle against harsh realities, particularly the knowledge of death and meaninglessness.

"But there is one conquest and one crown, one redemption and one solution."
This line is somewhat paradoxical, as it suggests there is only one way to overcome the human predicament—through acceptance of a particular truth, which Zapffe reveals next.

"Know yourselves—be infertile and let the earth be silent after you."
Zapffe advocates for antinatalism—the idea that human reproduction perpetuates suffering. By choosing not to reproduce ("be infertile"), he suggests humanity can escape the cycle of suffering and allow the Earth to "be silent," essentially ending the human race as a way to cease the existential pain.

Zapffe's philosophy is deeply pessimistic, rooted in the idea that human consciousness leads to an awareness of life's absurdity, and the only way to mitigate this is by halting the cycle of suffering through non-procreation. This is in direct opposition to our “survival and reproduction” instincts. He would call those primal and animal like (no knowledge of suffering, meaninglessness, and dying.)

Cosmic Panic

His concept of "cosmic panic" refers to the overwhelming existential terror that arises when humans become fully aware of their position in the universe—namely, the realization of life’s inherent meaninglessness, the inevitability of death, and the apparent indifference of the cosmos. This moment of panic is more than just fear; it's a profound, paralyzing dread that emerges from our awareness of existential truths.

For Zapffe, "cosmic panic" is a direct consequence of human consciousness. While other animals live instinctively and without awareness of their mortality or the broader cosmos, humans are burdened with a level of self-awareness that allows us to comprehend our finite existence. This awareness can lead to a deep sense of horror as we confront questions of purpose and the randomness of life.

To avoid this state of cosmic panic, Zapffe believed that humans instinctively employ various coping mechanisms (see below; isolation, anchoring, distraction, and sublimation) to suppress the terror of existential awareness. Without these defenses, he argued, we would be left to confront the full weight of our existential insignificance, a confrontation so destabilizing that it would lead many to despair.

The Coping Mechanisms Used to Buffer Death Anxiety and Get Through Life

I’m most interested in his coping mechanisms for death anxiety. They are very much in line with Ernest Becker. I often wonder if Becker read Zapffe. I bet he did. Zapffe describes four coping mechanisms people use to deal with the painful awareness of life’s absurdity and the inevitability of death. He argues that human consciousness and self-awareness bring a unique existential burden, which we struggle to endure. To address this, he identifies four key methods we use to suppress our awareness of life's tragic nature:

Isolation
Isolation involves consciously suppressing disturbing thoughts or situations that remind us of life's inherent meaninglessness. By avoiding or ignoring thoughts of mortality or deep existential fears, we keep ourselves from confronting uncomfortable truths.

Anchoring
Anchoring refers to creating or clinging to a framework of meaning that gives us stability in life. This might include religious beliefs, cultural norms, or personal goals that provide a sense of purpose or direction. By attaching ourselves to a specific ideology or worldview, we prevent our minds from drifting into despair.

Distraction
Distraction is the practice of diverting attention from troubling existential concerns through various forms of engagement. People often use work, entertainment, social activities, or even compulsive behaviors to avoid deep reflection on life’s deeper, often unsettling questions.

Sublimation
Sublimation is the process of channeling existential anxieties into creative or intellectual pursuits—I use this all of the time. Rather than confronting death anxiety head-on, individuals may transform these concerns into artistic, philosophical, or scientific work. By doing so, they engage with the darker aspects of existence in ways that feel productive and meaningful.

He believed these mechanisms were essentially defense strategies, helping us cope with existential dread and the awareness of our limitations. He maintained, however, that these methods could only provide temporary relief, as the underlying truths remain, inevitably surfacing throughout our lives. Becker said the same thing essentially. There's no escaping the world as it is all of the time, only temporary relief.

Check out this video: “Peter Wessel Zapffe: The Norwegian Existentialist.” Tim Oseckas addressing the Existentialist Society in September 2024. Tim did a great job here. It was a pleasure listening to his research on Zapffe. Thank you, Tim!

The Irish Elk Story

And the final idea I want to address is his story about the Irish elk—he said, "certain deer in paleontological times succumbed as they acquired overly-heavy horns." This story was very profound to me when I first read it, and it has been in my head ever since.

He uses the Irish elk as a metaphor to illustrate the self-destructive consequences of evolution unchecked by pragmatic limits. The Irish elk, now extinct, had massive antlers, which grew to such an extreme size that they eventually became a liability. Though the antlers helped attract mates, they became a burden in the elk’s environment; they were cumbersome, made movement difficult, and ultimately contributed to the species' extinction as they hindered survival.

“Deer Antlers,” 2022—my tribute to Zapffe’s philosophy on our overabundance of consciousness.

Zapffe draws a parallel between the Irish elk's oversized antlers and the human consciousness (being aware of mortality). Just as the elk’s antlers became an evolutionary overdevelopment with disastrous results, Zapffe argues that human self-awareness—our ability to reflect on life’s meaning, confront death, and ponder the universe—has led to a psychological burden we are poorly equipped to bear. This consciousness, in Zapffe’s view, is an evolutionary trait that goes beyond practical needs, creating existential dilemmas that provoke anxiety, dread, and despair.

In essence, Zapffe suggests that consciousness, like the elk’s antlers, is an overextension of evolution that, while beneficial in some respects, also leads to suffering and potentially self-destructive behaviors.

Peter Wessel Zapfee making photographs.

Peter Wessel Zapfee photograph.