The Red Egg

“I was ashamed of myself when i realized life was a costume party; and I attended with my real face.”

— Franz Kafka (1883-1924) Czech-Austrian Jewish writer (Attributed)

"Fragility, Vulnerability, Stability, and Permanence,” May 4, 2023: RA-4 Color Reversal Print (direct positive).

I’ve been working with the RA-4 Reversal Color Direct Positive process for a while now. I’ve almost burned through a box of 100 sheets of paper so far. I’ve learned a lot. I’m trying to get ready for the spring and summer here to make flora, fauna, and landscape pictures with the process. After 20+ years of working in the wet and dry collodion processes, this is a breath of fresh air for me creatively. I absolutely love it.

The RA-4 reversal process is a bit difficult to predict. Serendipity is a prerequisite, a lot like the old processes I’ve worked in for so long. Today, some clouds popped up and completely changed the color of the prints. It was wonderful to see this happen. I wanted the prints to be "warm,” leaning into the red color. It worked wonderfully well for me. I’m making some more prints tomorrow with a very old vessel.

The silver cup in the image is from Europe—a colonizer metaphor. The Tabguache Ute used the yucca plant here, which is such a great metaphor for me to work with. The stalks, buds, flowers, and some fruits served as food. Roots can be used for soap and as a laxative, and leaf fibers can be used as cordage, weaving material, and to make sandals.

"European Silver, Eggs, and Yucca,” May 4, 2023: RA-4 Color Reversal Print (direct positive).

I ran across a painting by a Russian artist called Oskar Kokoschka. He painted “The Red Egg (1940–41);” it’s a political piece; it portrays the destruction of Czechoslovakia in 1939 following the Munich Agreement. It moved me. I wanted to address the metaphor of eggs in some work as it applies to my project. Eggs are often associated with the idea of fragility and vulnerability. In art, this metaphor can be used to convey a sense of delicacy or vulnerability. The American artist Robert Rauschenberg created a series of sculptures called "The Gluts," which featured fragile, egg-like objects made from found materials.

Eggs are also commonly associated with the ideas of transformation and metamorphosis. They contain the potential to become something entirely different. Artists have used this metaphor to create works that explore themes of change and evolution. The British artist Damien Hirst created a series of sculptures called "The Immortal," which featured cabinets containing rows of preserved eggs, each representing the potential for new life and growth. These ideas and metaphors really spoke to me.

When I was out cutting some yucca for my picture, I found this beautiful piece of white quartz rock. Most of the quartz here is red or brown. This is pure white, like the snow. I thought the idea of the fragility of the egg and the stability of the stone would be a nice metaphor.

Rocks are often associated with the ideas of stability and permanence. In art, this metaphor can be used to convey a sense of solidity or endurance. The American artist Richard Serra is known for his large-scale sculptures made from massive sheets of steel that resemble enormous rocks.

They can also be used to represent the passage of time and the accumulation of history (history and memory). In art, this metaphor can be used to explore themes of memory and nostalgia. The American artist Robert Smithson created a work called "Spiral Jetty," which features a massive spiral made from rocks and earth that stretches out into the Great Salt Lake in Utah. The work has become an iconic symbol of the land art movement and a testament to the enduring power of nature.

Body and Soul: An Uneasy Alliance

“The body is the closest that we come to touching any kind of reality. And yet we have the desire to flee the body: many religions are based entirely on disembodiment, because the body brings with it mortality, fear of death. If you accept the body as reality, then you have to accept mortality and people are very afraid to do that.”

— David Cronenberg

“Body and Soul: An Uneasy Alliance” is chapter 8 from “The Worm at the Core: On the Role of Death in Life,” by Sheldon Solomon, Jeff Greenberg, and Tom Pyszczynski (co-creators of terror management theory).

If you join me on Saturdays (on my YouTube channel), you’ll know that we’re going through this wonderful book and learning a tremendous amount about how knowledge of our impending deaths drives so much of our behavior, good and bad. I’m posting this as a follow-up to the reading and for those who have watched or listened to the video.

Sub-Chapters and Notes

DISTANCING FROM AND DISPARAGING ANIMALS

• We regulate activities that remind us of our corporeal nature.

• We alter and adorn our bodies.

• We scrub ourselves to eradicate any scents except those that come from bottles or spray cans.

• We use “rest” rooms to discretely dispose of bodily excretions.

• We recoil in sophomoric mirth (amusement) at the sight of animals copulating.

• Disgust: We are “disgusted” by far more than rotting flesh.

• Bodily secretions like blood, vomit, urine, and feces are more disgusting after thinking about death.

• We are determined to deny our animality. We want to separate ourselves from animals; we want to be special and superior to the “lowly” animals. Animals remind us that we will die. We hide all of our animal behavior; we have toilets, plates, forks, spoons, and cups; we shave, we wear clothes, and we disguise sex as “love.”

THE MORTIFICATION OF THE FLESH

• We believe we are superior to all other life forms (Bible, created in the image of God, etc.).

• Scourging purifications. Whipping the flesh, conquering the flesh—Saint Paul, “Live by the flesh, you will die, put the deeds of the body to death, and you will live.”

FOR BEAUTY, WE MUST SUFFER

• We decorate our flesh with ink, piercings, scarring, etc.

• We distinguish between the world of culture and the world of nature (man vs. animal).

• We have a need to reduce our resemblance to animals; animals remind us of death.

• Eating from the Tree of Knowledge made the naked human body shameful; it revealed the “worm at the core." - death

• We go to great lengths not to look old—cosmetics, surgery, etc.

• Hair: Hairy bodies have always been associated with uncivilized, amoral, sexually promiscuous, and perverted animality.

• Transforming from animal to human through modifications—piercings, tattoos, and scarification—reinforces that we are more than mere animals.

• Neck rings, feet, waist, and head binding permanently disable people for “beauty” and “status.”

• Millions of Americans get plastic surgery every year; the need for a “youthful appearance” is paramount!

“SEX AND DEATH ARE TWINS”

• Sex is both exhilarating and frightening to us.

• Ernest Becker said, “Sex is of the body, and the body is of death.”

• Sex is a potent symbol of our creaturely, corporeal, and ephemeral conditions.

• Sex is first and foremost a glaring reminder that we are animals; next to urination and defecation, it is the closest human beings come to acting like beasts.

• We recognize that animals and humans have sex in the same way.
  Reproduction makes us painfully aware that we are transient ambulatory gene repositories (pass it on and die).

• Ernest Becker was right then when he proclaimed that “sex and death are twins." Thinking about death makes the physical aspects of sex unappealing, and considering the physical aspects of sex nudges death thoughts closer to consciousness.

• We manage our death-fueled anxiety about sex by imbuing it with symbolic meaning, transforming it from the creaturely to the sublime, thereby making it psychologically safer.

• We transform sex into a cultural ritual, making it less animalistic.

• Animal lust becomes human love.

LA FEMME FATALE

• Women’s bodies and sexual behavior are especially subject to rules and regulations.

• Men have always made the rules, and women arouse sexual lust in them.

• Disgust with menstruation and lactation: a lab study

• From time immemorial, men have utilized their superior physical strength, political power, and economic clout to dominate, denigrate, and control women, as well as using women to serve as designated inferiors in order to prop up their self-esteem.

• Women make men hard, and this makes it hard for men to ignore their own animality.

• The reason so many men are misogynistic is because they are reminded of sex when encountering women, they are threatened by this.

• Men are reminded of their animality through the sexual arousal of women and are reminded of their impending death.

• Many major religions belittle women, making them subject to men.

• Widespread patterns of violence against women may well be partially rooted in men’s sexual ambivalence; the conflict between lust and the need to deny animality makes men uncomfortable with their own sexual arousal.

• Being an embodied animal aware of death is indeed difficult. We simply cannot bear the thought that we are biological creatures, no different from dogs, cats, fish, or worms. Accordingly, people are generally partial to views of humans as different from and superior to animals. We adorn and modify our bodies, transforming our animal carcasses into cultural symbols. Rather than thinking of ourselves as hormonally regulated gene reproduction machines bumping and grinding our way toward oblivion, we “make love” to transform copulation into romance. And when women ooze hormones, blood, and babies, men blame them for their own lustful urges, which serves to perpetuate negative stereotypes about and justify abuse of women.

• The terror of death is thus at the heart of human estrangement from our animal nature. It isolates us from our own bodies, from each other, and from the other creatures with whom we share noses, lips, eyes, teeth, and limbs everywhere on the planet.

“Humans cannot live without illusions. For the men and women of today, an irrational faith in progress may be the only antidote to nihilism. Without the hope that the future will be better than the past, they could not go on...
Humanists like to think they have a rational view of the world; but their core belief in progress is a superstition, further from the truth about the human animal than any of the world’s religions. Outside of science, progress is simply a myth.”

— John Gray

Finding Meaning in the Meaninglessness

“Light” This is dead Rocky Mountain barley and a small cactus flower that is blooming. This is a 10” x 10” (25,4 x 25,4 cm) RA-4 color reversal direct print (made in the camera). This is about 1 second overexposed - I really like the diptych of these.

““Man’s main concern is not to gain pleasure or to avoid pain but rather to see a meaning in his life. That is why man is even ready to suffer, on the condition, to be sure, that his suffering has a meaning.””

— Viktor Frankl, Man's Search for Meaning

This coming Saturday, April 22, 2023, I’m going to read the sixth chapter of “The Worm at the Core: On the Role of Death in Life” on my YouTube show. This chapter is about symbolic immortality. What is symbolic immortality? It’s the flip side of the coin of human desiring or striving for immorality. One side of the coin is literal immortality (last week’s read), and the other is symbolic immortality. It’s a big driving force in our lives. And it’s very interesting in terms of terror management theory. If you can, join me for the reading, I’m sure you’ll find something vaguely interesting if you’re reading this.

The book really starts to take off with this chapter. To this point, the authors have laid the groundwork for the reasons we lean on repression, denial, and the transcendence of death. They’ve addressed how we use our parents when we’re children for our self-esteem, and then we separate, or individuate, and lean on culture for the all-important tools to repress or deny the knowledge of our impending death and to build self-esteem (which acts as a buffer to death anxiety). They’ve given both historical references and modern empirical evidence about how we respond to death awareness. For me, this is where these theories really take off and we begin to connect the dots.

“Humans are incredibly intelligent. On consciousness: It takes a ridiculously sophisticated cognitive apparatus to render yourself the object of your own subjective inquiry. ”

— Soren Kierkegaard

Since human beings acquired consciousness or became aware that they existed, nonexistence has become a frightening reality. Mortality is on our minds and in our thoughts; it consumes us, and we need a way to buffer, repress, or transcend it. This is true, whether we know it or not, and most don’t (it’s an unconscious activity, like most psychological events). We are so embedded or ensconced in our cultural worldview that we’re blind to what motivates our activities, shapes our desires, and drives us on a daily basis. For me, this is the most revealing feature of these ideas. We’re so far down the rabbit hole (repressing the anxiety) that we can’t make sense of these theories; we don’t understand them. That’s what they’re designed to do: keep us from thinking about becoming worm food. And over tens of thousands of years, they have become so deeply embedded in our psychological landscape that we are shielded from the knowledge of death—at least for the most part.

One way we deal with the terror of death is to transcend it; we mainly use culture to do that. Technology, religion, art, ritual, myth, family, politics, relationships, money, etc.—these all provide some form of immortality for us or ways to repress or buffer existential dread. Why are we so afraid of dying? It’s not the actual event of death that gives us anxiety (some do have anxiety about how they will die), but the knowledge of it. We are living and existing in a meaningless world. We won’t be remembered. It’s the impermanence and insignificance that give us anxiety and dread. We want to be remembered; better yet, we don’t want to die!

“Ernest Becker called this desperation ‘the ache of cosmic specialness.’ Becker states what is patently obvious to most: as humans, we constantly put ourselves at the center of the universe.”

— The Denial of Death

“Life & Light” is a 20” x 20” (51 x 51 cm) these are RA-4 color reversal direct prints (made in the camera).

As Ernest Becker, the author of “The Denial of Death” (1973), pointed out, Freud was wrong. It’s not our sexual drive that motivates our behavior and psychological gymnastics; it’s our fear of death. Peter Zapffe, a Norwegian philosopher, also addressed these theories in his 1933 essay, “The Last Messiah.” Zapffe cites four coping mechanisms we use to repress death anxiety. For Zapffe, our becoming mentally over-equipped has resulted in us becoming “fearful of life itself" and of our “very being." The degree to which we are conscious of reality, which is unlike any other species, also means that we have become acutely aware of the suffering of billions of people and sentient life on the planet, as well as the planet itself.

“The Last Messiah” starts like this (bold for emphasis):

“One night in long bygone times, man awoke and saw himself.

He saw that he was naked under cosmos, homeless in his own body. All things dissolved before his testing thought, wonder above wonder, horror above horror unfolded in his mind.

Then woman too awoke and said it was time to go and slay. And he fetched his bow and arrow, a fruit of the marriage of spirit and hand, and went outside beneath the stars. But as the beasts arrived at their waterholes where he expected them of habit, he felt no more the tiger’s bound in his blood, but a great psalm about the brotherhood of suffering between everything alive.

That day he did not return with prey, and when they found him by the next new moon, he was sitting dead by the waterhole.”

Sublimation, which Zapffe calls “a matter of transformation rather than repression,” It involves turning “the very pain of living” into “valuable experiences.” He continues: “Positive impulses engage the evil and put it to their own ends, fastening onto its pictorial, dramatic, heroic, lyric, or even comic aspects.” He also notes that the essay "The Last Messiah" itself is an attempt at such sublimation. For Zapffe, sublimation is “the rarest of protective mechanisms." Most people can limit the contents of their consciousness using the previous three mechanisms (isolation, anchoring, and distraction), staving off existential angst and world-weariness. But when these forms of repression fail and the tragic cannot be ignored, sublimation offers a remedy, a way of turning the unignorable “pain of living” into creative, positive, aesthetically valuable works. (Partially Examined Life) This is where I find myself—deep into sublimation.

Meaning and Meaninglessness
Everyone has the responsibility to create meaning in their lives. There is nothing inherently meaningful in life. Life is primarily a biological process; it goes on whether we believe in something or not; it simply doesn’t matter; the world goes on. When people ask, “What is the meaning of life?” They are missing the point; there is no meaning; you have to create it, find it, search it out, apply it, and live it. The question should be, “What is the meaning in life?” Your life. Whatever that might be, I believe whatever you do to create meaning is a good thing as long as it doesn’t hurt or infringe on other people's ways of creating meaning.

If you’re religious or have a certain faith or belief in an afterlife and believe in a deity, no problem. If you belong to a sports club or a political group and find meaning and significance there, no problem. If you have a hobby—gardening, cooking, sewing, writing, painting, or photography—that’s great! If it bolsters your self-esteem, makes you feel significant, and gives you meaning, you’re on the right track.

The problem is that, a lot of times, unconscious beliefs infringe on other people's cultural worldviews; it creates hurt, discrimination, oppression, and even death (this usually happens to members of marginalized groups). Everyone needs to find something that provides them with meaning and significance. This isn’t about being right or wrong; it’s about being human and feeding self-esteem to buffer death anxiety. We all suffer from this condition (the human condition). No one gets to say, "That doesn’t apply to me." It applies to everyone.

I’m not a nihilist, but there is some truth in the “nothingness” that nihilists ascribe to, especially existential nihilism. Nietzsche said, "To live is to suffer. To survive is to find some meaning in the suffering." I do ascribe to that idea.

William Shakespeare wrote:
"Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."

I titled this essay “Finding Meaning in the Meaninglessness.” It’s a difficult thing to admit, but everything is meaningless. Everything. For context, when I say meaningless, I mean it in the cosmic sense, not the personal sense. For me, all of my pictures, all of my writings and books, all of my thoughts, my degrees, my life experiences, all of my accomplishments, even my existence, are all meaningless. It’s true, and I’m fine with that truth. What I’ve found is that, while I understand this fact in the cosmic sense, it doesn’t preclude me from finding meaning and significance for myself. All of the aforementioned things are very meaningful, significant, and important to me, including my wife and daughter, who are at the top of my meaningful list, and my friendships and relationships outside of my family.

I’ve created, experienced, and lived all of it for my mental health and well-being, not for some bigger purpose or to change the world. It’s wonderful to be alive most of the time. I’m in awe of the beauty where I live. I’m amazed at the progress human beings have made over the millennia. It’s truly amazing. I’m grateful to wake up every morning.

On the surface, it may seem that I’m trying to change the world through my work, but I’m not. If no one ever read a word I’ve written, looked at a picture I’ve made, or listened to my philosophies about life, it wouldn’t matter—because it doesn’t. They’re not meaningful or important to the bigger scheme of things (cosmic); I get that, and I’m okay with that. I’ve come to terms with it. It doesn’t depress or demotivate me either. In fact, in a lot of ways, it’s freeing and maybe even emancipating in ways. It encourages me even more to express and create.

The only thing I’ve tried to do (intentionally) in my life is encourage people to consider people who are different from them as fully human and try not to do harm to “the other.” And now, with my new work, I’m trying to help people understand what these important ideas have to offer. It would be a much better world, at least for the time we’re here, if we could come to terms with our mortality. As Albert Camus said, “There is only one liberty, to come to terms with death, thereafter anything is possible.”

Why Photographic Prints (and Books) Are Important

“We have in fact only two certainties in this world - that we are not everything and that we will die.”

— Georges Bataille

You hear advice for digital photographers to “print their images.” It’s good advice. Storage cards and drives crash all the time. I suspect very few actually follow that advice. However, this essay is not about that type of printing, and the ideas that I’m going to address live in a completely different space. This is about the photographic fine art print as an object of value: something tangible and handmade. As well as the importance of books and the meaning of value,

In this essay, I want to address the idea of value as it relates to prints and books in the photographic fine art world. What is value, and how do you define it?

Have you ever thought about the importance of the photographic print? What I mean is that when we talk about photography today, it’s usually about posting digital snaps on social media. I read a scary statistic the other day about “Generation Z” (Zoomer students): very few have ever been to an art gallery (to see work in person), even fewer own any photography books, or books in general, and almost none of them have ever been in a photographic darkroom. Their photographic and art world lives online in zeros and ones. That really shocked me. The last few wet collodion demonstrations I did (pre-COVID) at the local university, I felt that something was “off.” I couldn’t put my finger on it; it just felt like the students were distant and not really interested in my presentation. I’d been doing these for years and never had a response, or lack thereof, like this before. It made me start to wonder about the changing perception of art, literature, and education in general. I taught higher education for a few years; in fact, the initial reason for getting an M.F.A. was to continue to teach in higher education. I had a change of heart when I finished graduate school. I feel that I can contribute more to the world doing what I’m doing now. I’m very grateful that I didn’t continue teaching. I think I would have been disappointed and discouraged by it.

WORK, SKILL, & MATERIALS

The Value of Work
When we talk about value, we have to address some key elements that separate the different approaches to making art using photography. One of the big ones for me is work. The 19th-century French novelist George Sand said, "Work is not man's punishment. It is his reward, his strength, and his pleasure." I agree. I define work as a system of mostly failing and continuing to pursue your goal until you’ve achieved it—be willing to not only accept failure but embrace it. I work the hardest on the ideas behind my work. The other component of my photography is the work in the darkroom and printing. I can spend an hour developing and processing one negative. And I can spend an entire day trying to make a print from the negative that I like. While today’s technology allows a person to fire off thousands of images onto a digital card, my work is in the single digits (maybe three on a good day). I have to physically work for those, and some days are complete failures. Whatever the reason(s), nothing works.

The Value of Skill
This is a topic that can be controversial in the sense of how you determine or define skill. For me, skill includes all of the technical knowledge of any given process plus the wisdom of how to apply the process to achieve a certain aesthetic—not an easy thing to do. Knowledge, gained through the study of new information, consists of a rich storage of information. Wisdom, on the other hand, has to do more with insight, understanding, and accepting the fundamental “nature” of things. Let me back up a little and say that the wisdom of applying an aesthetic to an image comes from the knowledge of what you’re trying to say with the image. In other words, there needs to be a story or narrative in place in order to even do this. Without this, you can’t really do anything.

The Value of Material
One of the most important ideas to me is materials. One of the many reasons I enjoy working with historic processes is the variety of materials available for use in any given process. Everything from the papers to the silver can be used as a metaphor in the work. I used to talk about the glass used in collodion when making photographs of synagogues destroyed in Germany on Kristallnacht (the Night of Broken Glass). Or the cyanide I use to remove the unexposed silver from the plate; the same substance was used in Europe's gas chambers during WWII. With my current project, I’m using a variety of materials that address, directly or indirectly, the thesis of the work. The tangible quality of the materials lies beyond the metaphors. It's an experience to hold a handmade photograph physically in your hands. I believe we've lost touch with the material (physical) aspect of photography. That has changed the medium a lot in my mind. This is where books can be vital. In this digital age, we rely on internet connections, computers (phones), and power to be able to see or read anything. If any one of those isn’t available, the work is no longer available to you. With a book, you only need light.

Photogenic Drawing of Rocky Mountain Barley.

THE HANDMADE PRINT
In the context of a handmade print, value can be defined in several ways, including:

1. Unique craftsmanship: One of the primary sources of value in a handmade print is the uniqueness and individuality of each print produced. Handmade processes often involve a high level of skill, attention to detail, and creativity, which can result in prints that are distinct from one another-each one an original. Viewers may place a premium on handmade items because of their uniqueness and the sense of artistry and personality that they convey.

2. High-quality materials: Handmade processes often involve the use of high-quality materials that are carefully selected and sourced. This can add to the value of the final product, as the materials used may be of a higher quality than those used in mass-produced items.

3. Personal connection: Handmade processes often involve a personal connection between the creator and the product. The maker may have a strong emotional connection to the item they are creating, and this can be conveyed to the viewer in the finished print. Viewers may value this personal connection and feel more attached to handmade items than they would to mass-produced items.

Overall, the value of something made by hand can come from a number of things, such as its uniqueness, quality, and personal connection.

Meaning in a Meaningless World

Peter Zapffe said, "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."

Like others, Zapffe was convinced that our consciousness was an evolutionary misstep. A mistake. To have a "surplus" of consciousness is too much for us to bear. We shrink from living and are afraid to die because of it. We don't necessarily fear death or dying, but rather the prospect of being forgotten—the consequences of dying. We fear impermanence and insignificance. That’s what’s unbearable to us; that’s what drives us to distractions, illusions, and denial.

Moreover, we find ourselves in a world that has no meaning. The only meaning is what we create for ourselves, and in the cosmic picture, it’s all meaningless. This idea is central to my work. This conflict creates anxiety that we need to buffer, and if we can’t buffer it, a lot of times it will manifest as anger or violence, and we will take it out on the person or people who are challenging our buffering mechanism (othering). In other words, if you challenge my worldview (my coping mechanism for death anxiety), I may lash out and want to convert you to my worldview or destroy you.

I’ve come to understand why I gravitate toward making art and having a creative life. Reading the works of the great thinkers and philosophers, it's clear to me what my attraction is to pursuing creativity versus other ways I could buffer my existential anxiety. Nietzsche said, "The truly serious task of art is to save the eye from gazing into the horrors of night and to deliver the subject by the healing balm of illusion from the spasms of the agitations of the will." That resonates deeply with me. My life has consisted of trying to unravel the problem of "othering" through art. Over the years, I’ve pulled on the threads of artists, thinkers, and philosophers before me (and those who are contemporary to me) and have used art to explore human behavior as well as buffer my own existential terror. I’m very aware of how I’ve intellectualized my impending death. Socrates claimed that the practice of philosophy in life is really a dress rehearsal for what comes in death: “… those who practice philosophy in the right way are in training for dying, and they fear death least of all men.”

When Nietzsche talks about the "truly serious task of art" being to save the eye from gazing into the horrors of night and deliver the subject from the spasms of the agitations of the will, he is speaking about the power of art to provide a form of psychological relief from existential terror.

Nietzsche believed that human existence was marked by suffering and that our awareness of this suffering could be overwhelming. In his view, the role of art was to provide a kind of escape from existential terror by creating a "healing balm of illusion" that would allow us to momentarily forget about our problems and experience a sense of peace and tranquility. I would add to that; I would argue that it allows the artist to transfer the anxiety to the work—to exercise it out of the mind, if you will. Peter Zapffe called this “sublimation”; he said it was rare but the best way to buffer anxiety. It’s rare because the majority of people choose not to have a creative life.

At the same time, Nietzsche recognized that the experience of art was not just about escaping from reality. He believed that great art had the power to transform our understanding of the world and to challenge our assumptions about what is real and what is possible.

In short, Nietzsche's comment about art's "serious task" shows how art has the power to both temporarily calm our existential terror and give our lives meaning—or at least an illusion of meaning and value.

What Kind of Hero are You?

Henry David Thoreau said, “If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.“

I suppose it’s my quiet life that allows me to reflect, observe, and, most importantly, think about human behavior, including my own. It seems to be constantly on my mind. To say I’m preoccupied with it would be an understatement. I’m very cognizant that this is a privilege most people don’t have.

Every day, as I write my book, I find myself wondering why so few people ever stop and reflect on their lives or try to understand their nature. Everyone seems to be so wrapped up in schedules, shopping, money, status, appearance, and all other kinds of distractions or busy, frantic material lives that keep them ensconced in their illusion that they have no time for thinking about these things. I understand why they need this. I get it. However, that wouldn’t prevent self-examination or reflection.

The theme of my book is to make the unconscious conscious so that it doesn’t direct your life. I feel like this is missing in so many people’s lives. It reminds me of the diet/food question. If people were aware of what they ate, they wouldn’t wonder why they felt so bad and were always sick, tired or depressed. They’re in the same psychological area. We have such a strong drive to “enjoy the moment" that we rarely look past that or the consequences we pay for doing it.

Ernest Becker asked, "…the question of human life is this: On what level of illusion does one live? This question poses an absolutely new question for the science of mental health, namely, what is the “best” illusion under which to live? Or, what is the most legitimate foolishness? ... I think the whole question would be answered in terms of how much freedom, dignity, and hope a given illusion provides.” (The Denial of Death)

The question is: what illusion or illusions are you using to quell death anxiety? Have you ever thought about this? Are your illusions hurting or damaging other people or yourself? Becker was concerned about adopting harmful illusions to buffer death anxiety. History is littered with people who have used illusions to cause millions to suffer and die (most extreme cases).

Becker talks about four types of heroism—ways we can use culture to bolster our self-esteem, which keeps existential terror at bay. These are the illusions we use to function day-to-day.

RELIGIOUS HEROISM
The first is religious heroism. This is still used today, but not like it was in the past. Before the enlightenment and the industrial revolution, among other advances, this was the way most people buffered their anxiety. A promise of an afterlife (immortality) and meaning and purpose from a higher authority is what worked. Most religions have convinced believers “that one's very creatureliness has some meaning to a Creator; that despite one's true insignificance, weakness, death, one's existence has meaning in some ultimate sense because it exists within an eternal and infinite scheme of things brought about and maintained to some kind of design by some creative force." (The Denial of Death) This type of heroism is no longer viable for most people.

CULTURAL HEROISM
The second is cultural heroism. This is what eclipsed religious heroism. Most people today lean toward this type of heroism. The average person can’t become a famous musician, movie star, or sports legend. It’s not realistic. So they become "cogs" in a heroic machine. It could be their society, their country, or a corporation. Something "bigger" than themselves that will live on beyond their physical death. "Man earns his feeling of worth by following the lines of authority and power internalized in his particular family, social group, and nation," Becker explained. "Each human slave nods to the next, and each earns his feeling of worth by doing the unquestionable good." (The Ernest Becker Reader) Becker really makes a profound observation when he says, “Take the average man who has to stage in his own way the life drama of his own worth and significance. As a youth he, like everyone else, feels that deep down he has a special talent, an indefinable but real something to contribute to the richness and success of life in the universe. But, like almost everyone else, he doesn’t seem to hit on the unfolding of this special something; his life takes on the character of a series of accidents and encounters that carry him along, willy-nilly, into new experiences and responsibilities. Career, marriage, family, approaching old age—all these happen to him, he doesn’t command them. Instead of his staging the drama of his own significance, he himself is staged, programmed by the standard scenario laid down by his society.” (Ernest Becker, Angel in Armor: A Post-Freudian Perspective on the Nature of Man) This is so easy to see; it may have even happened to you. Having life “happen” to you rather than you actually controlling it, I can relate to this statement, and it applies to my early life for sure. Cultural heroism transforms individuals into blind conformists.

PERSONAL HEROISM
The third is personal heroism. Becker described this type of individual as "one who tries to be a god unto himself, the master of his fate, a self-created man. He will not be merely the pawn of others, of society; he will not be a passive sufferer and secret dreamer, nursing his own inner flame in oblivion." (The Denial of Death) This type of person tries to find their authentic talent and uses it as a way to measure their worth. “If I were asked for the single most striking insight into human nature and human condition, it would be this: that no person is strong enough to support the meaning of his life unaided by something outside him,” (Angel in Armor) According to Becker, this is doomed to fail.

THE GENUINE HERO
And finally, Becker talks about the genuine hero. This is a rare individual who does not require illusions to live, a person who can face the reality of their existence head-on, no holds barred. "I think that taking life seriously means something such as this: that whatever man does on this planet has to be done in the lived truth of the terror of creation, of the grotesque, of the rumble of panic underneath everything. Otherwise, it is false." (The Denial of Death) The genuine hero lives with an attitude of resignation that is not a pessimistic denial of life. They recognize the awesome powers of the universe and that those powers dwarf their petty concerns. He concluded his train of thought with this, ''The most that any 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.” (The Denial of Death)

Visions In Mortality - 1993

I just finished writing about my first photographic exhibition in the biography portion of my book (Chapter 2, The Introduction). After careful consideration, I felt it was important to give my background on these theories and ideas in the context of what I'm doing now. It makes so much sense to me now. There is some kind of closure that I feel after all of these years making art about the fear of death and the human behaviors that result from it. I wouldn’t say that I was working blindly or aimlessly all those years; it was more like I was trying to express ideas that I had no concept of explaining with words. It was the intellectual part that was missing. That’s all changed now. I understand what I was doing, and it all fits together beautifully. I am beyond grateful for that.

Over 30 years ago, I was making work about the same things I’m making work about today. The difference is that I’m so much more mature (artistically speaking) and feel like I have a good grasp on these concepts and how to articulate what concerns me. I wrote about my exhibition called "Visions in Mortality." This body of work was exhibited for a few weeks in 1993 as my senior thesis project for undergraduate school.

The images were all manipulated Polaroid work (direct color positives) and poetry. Each image was accompanied by a short poem or passage. I was very influenced by Lucas Samaras and Charles Bukowski at the time. The overall theme was what I’ve always made work about: death anxiety and the knowledge of our mortality. However, as you can see from the statement below, I was venturing into the defense mechanisms that I'm writing about today concerning the denial of death.

In my book, I wrote about four of the 25 or so images from the show. “Clotheshorse,” “Coitus on a Sea of Blue,” “Ketchum, Idaho,” and this one, "Ode to Vincent van Gogh.” This is a self-portrait. I was 29 years old. The image came about by accident while moving the chemistry around during development—the lower portion of my ear was gone. After seeing it emerge, I immediately thought about the painting of Vincent van Gogh—the self-portrait with his bandage and cap—and the self-mutilation and suicide. And the Yellow House.

On the 23rd of December 1888, in a small house in Arles, in the south of France, one of the most famous artists of all time—Vincent van Gogh—feverishly cut off his own ear in a mysterious act of self-mutilation. The circumstances in which van Gogh cut off his ear are not exactly known, but many experts believe that it was following a furious argument with Paul Gauguin at the Yellow House. Afterwards, van Gogh allegedly packaged up the ear and gave it to a prostitute in a nearby brothel—that wasn’t true; he gave it to a cleaning lady. He was then admitted to a hospital in Arles, France. He died by suicide about 18 months later, on July 29, 1890.

Mental illness has been a long preoccupation of mine—all human behavior, really. I’ve always wondered, just like any marginalized community, why these afflictions happen. I feel like I have some answers now, and while they are not definitive or absolute, they do point me in the right direction for why these kinds of things happen to people. I address suicide in my "Ketchum, Idaho” image as well. It’s a self-portrait sitting on the grave of Ernest Hemingway. These questions have always been present in my work.

Here’s my artist’s statement from the show in 1993—this is verbatim:

“Visions in Mortality”
This project deals with the reality of life, which is death, both visually and textually. This project is meant to communicate the intense and complicated process of life and our struggle with mortality as we approach death.

Whether life is short or long, it inevitably consists of much pain, suffering, depression, hurt, confusion, boredom, and misery, with only a “sprinkle” now and then of happiness, joy, love, peace, honor, and understanding. So many people are on the futile quest to attain happiness and understanding through physical, materialistic, and intellectual means that they neglect to realize their failure and ultimately find themselves in a “mortality crisis.”

This project deals with both the long term “reality” of life and few and far between “sprinkles” of the good stuff. It represents what I and many others see, feel, and experience as the human race.

Overall, this imagery communicates that both life and death are frightening, beautiful, and mysterious conditions.

Denial: Self-Deception, False Beliefs, and the Origins of the Human Mind

I just finished reading the book "Denial: Self-Deception, False Beliefs, and the Origins of the Human Mind" by Ajit Varki and Danny Brower. It’s an amazing book that posits a profound theory about how the human mind evolved and the obstacles it overcame that allowed us to be the way we are today—intelligent, creative, and innovative. It’s all based on our denial of reality. “The potent combination of our powerful intelligence with our massive reality denial has led to a dangerous world…” (Denial page 221)

It seems that we’ve been asking the wrong questions about human evolution and the evolution of the mind. The questions put forth in the book are, "Why is there no humanlike elephant or humanlike dolphin, despite millions of years of evolutionary opportunity?" And, "Why is it that humans alone can understand the minds of others?" The theory in the book is directly related to my project—how death anxiety and the repression mechanisms we use came to be, and the functions they served in the history of human evolution.

This is not a book review; I’m just connecting the dots with my work and sharing some insights as they pertain to death anxiety and the denial of death. It gets to the core of my project about denial. It addresses why we are “wired” to deny reality and how that leads to malignant manifestations of death anxiety, which is the crux of my work and project.

It’s important for me to understand the origins of the denial of death and death anxiety. These ideas are the mainspring of my book. I’ve been trying to find answers to these questions for a while. Fortunately, I received an email from a person who shares similar interests (Thanks, Tim!). He recommended that I read the book. Sheldon Solomon mentioned the book on a podcast I was listening to, and I made a mental note to look into it but never got around to buying the book. I’m very happy that I finally did.

It’s given me a lot of fodder for my endeavor and answered a lot of questions for me. Not to mention, I learned a lot about the evolutionary origin of humans and the cognitive psychology and evolution of the human mind.

Varki makes it very clear that these are not falsifiable theories and that he speculates a lot about them. I like that he’s approached it in an honest and scientific manner. I respect that. It leaves the proverbial door open to being proven wrong and to making better “guesses” in the future. This is how science works.

Varki relates an interesting and sad story about how he met Dr. Danny Brower. It was Brower’s theory that piqued Varki’s interest. The book was born from a conversation that lasted less than two hours. How it all came about is too lengthy to go into here, but it was fascinating and sad.

One of the main topics of the book is the Theory of Mind (ToM) or as some might call it, “consciousness.” As the author points out, there are so many definitions of that word that it’s better to be more definitive. Some may call it “self-awareness,” and it is to a degree. As the author says, this is a continuum from rudimentary self-awareness to full ToM. ToM is the ability to infer and understand another's mental state—their beliefs, thoughts, intentions, and feelings—and use this information to explain and predict human behavior. The book explains why denial is a key to being human. Varki posits that we separated ourselves from the other creatures because we grasped self-awareness of ours and others’ mortality (ToM) and then just as quickly developed a way to deny that mortality. And that’s what my writing is about: the way we deal with death anxiety and what that can lead to (racism, bigotry, genocide, and crimes against humanity).

The theory posited in this book can be summed up this way: Mind Over Reality Transition (MORT) theory. MORT is the evolutionary adaptation in response to gaining theory of mind (ToM) by simultaneously evolving denial of reality. There it is: a few words that describe the essence of a 300-page book. Obviously, the details are important, but that’s the ultra-condensed version of the book.

We deny reality—that reality being our mortality (among a lot of other things). In order for us to be so intelligent, we needed to develop a full theory of mind (ToM). What comes along with ToM is the awareness of death. If the animal has no mechanism to deal with that—to deny it—they will not survive. Varki believes that other animals have repeatedly crossed the barrier over millions of years, having full ToM but not the mechanism to deny mortality. This leads to an evolutionary dead end. The only animal that has successfully crossed over is us, (behaviorally) modern homo sapiens.

So how did early (modern) humans gain a full theory of mind and a denial mechanism at the same time—something that no other animal has been able to accomplish? Varki and Brower present the idea that a denial mechanism was starting to form before full ToM arrived. It came in the form of lying. The main drive was to create offspring before MORT, so lying was a great way to get the best partner to make babies. I'm not sure how they lied; perhaps they claimed to have killed the largest lion or provided the most meat; who knows, but as a theory, it makes sense to pre-MORT. The ability to lie to others led to the ability to lie to oneself. Self-deception led to denying reality, and denying reality led to full ToM and MORT.

What a great story of evolutionary biology and evolutionary psychology! It’s really put things in perspective for me. I know there are a lot of ideas in this theory that I’ll use for my book, connecting evolutionary biology and psychology to the actions of genocide and crimes against humanity. It ties in so nicely and explains so much of human behavior. It does give a great foundation for my studies and interests.

My Book For Next Year

If I do okay at the show in Paris, this book will follow around this time next year. I think I will do an edition of 10 books  - we’ll see.

This is scaled down (of course) the real book will be 12” x 12”, 116 pages, on very nice paper, hardcover with a image-wrap – I’m psyched about this!

"Vergangenheitsbewältigung"

World Wet Plate Collodion Day Book 2009

I'm happy to announce that the Wet Plate Collodion Day Book 2009 is ready to for prime time! You can order a copy, or two from Blurb:

The Wet Plate Collodion Day Book 2009

Please keep in mind that the preview of the book sucks (quality). That's the only reason I didn't release it sooner. Caron got her copy in the US and sent me some snaps - it looks great in print, so forget about the preview.

Please spread the word about the book. And ORDER one or two copies! This is a great project to support. We need to sell 250 – 300 copies!

Thanks to every one that participated! Great job! We did it!!

8”x10”, full color, perfect bound, 92 pages, 82 images, 51 artists/photographers – great work!

Photos by Caron Gonthier (thanks!)

The Cover shot!

Inside sample.

Inside sample.

Inside sample.

And the back of the book!