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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WHAT MY BOOK IS ABOUT
I’ve written a lot about the work I’m doing now. In fact, every essay (on this blog) has some connection to my work, either directly or indirectly. I’m incredibly fortunate to have the time and solitude to do the work, both writing and making photographs. I don’t have to think about anything else. I’ll write more about this later in the essay, but I wanted to share what my book is about. This is just a high-level, simple view of the content.

I’ve been studying and researching the theories of Ernest Becker for several years. His ground-breaking ideas about what drives human behavior got me deeply interested in death anxiety and terror management theory. The crux of my book is about the events of the 19th century and what the colonizers did to the indigenous people here. It’s not really about what they did, but why they did it. The acts of genocide and ethnocide and the psychology of “othering” have preoccupied my interests for decades. I’ve visited the death camps in Europe, and I’ve studied about slavery and atrocities throughout history, from Pol Pot to Darfur and Rawanda. I’ve always wondered why these things happened and where evil came from. I explain what Ernest Becker’s thoughts were and why I agree with them.

This is what my book is about. I unpack these theories in the context of what happened to the Tabegucahe Ute people, the Nuuchui people—the People of the Sun Mountain. I use my photographs to subtly speak to how they lived, the symbols they used, and the land they managed for time immemorial. I also tell my personal story about how a creative life has always been a priority. I explain how these theories have affected me and how this very project is an act to buffer my own existential terror.

They say “Hindsight is 20/20.” It’s true. When we look back at situations, we can see them clearly, unlike at the time they were happening. When I look back at how I spent my time, I realize that most people are preoccupied with making money and paying bills. I know I was, at least for the most part. I can say that I was aware of what was going on, but I couldn’t do much about it. So I made the best of it. I spent 20 years working as a photographer for the American Federal Government and six years serving in the United States Army, three of those years as a photographer.

“The mission of every man is to fulfill the lie he incarnates, to succeed in being no more than an exhausted illusion.”

— Emil Cioran

Our culture is set up as a psychological coping mechanism. In other words, it’s designed to keep you busy and only allow a small amount of “down time” or “thinking time.” Some people get no “down time” or “thinking time.” Their days are full from sunup to sundown. Busy, busy, busy. That’s our motto. It means you’re “doing something.” And “doing something” is preferred over not doing something. Why is that? Well, if you weren’t “doing something,” you would have time to think. Thinking can be dangerous for people. Thinking leads to awareness, or even an awakening. If you are aware or awake, you can see the world for what it is or, more importantly, for what it isn’t. And with that awareness, or awakening, you discover your place in life. You discover the reality of life—what’s important and what’s not. The things I thought were important 20 years ago are meaningless to me today. Some might call that wisdom, but I’m not sure that it’s wisdom. I think there’s a large part of it that is revealed to you as you step away from the cultural constructs. Think about how many Americans are going to wave flags, watch parades and fireworks, eat hot dogs and hamburgers, and drink beer next week. They will do it almost as a reflex, as a “we’re supposed to do this” kind of thing. It’s a cultural construct that millions of Americans lean on to bolster their self-esteem. It buffers death anxiety. This is what Becker lays out so clearly in The Denial of Death. This is what his theories are based on. Understanding the cultural constructs in which we live and the reasoning behind them—once you understand these theories, you can not only live a more full life, rich in awe, gratitude, and humility—awe, humility, and gratitude effectively mitigate death anxiety—but a more authentic life.

Bottom line: You can reduce the anxiety and the neurosis that accompany the existential dread that we all face. I’m addressing these ideas in my book. I’m also showing how a creative life deals with death anxiety and what it means to create.

IN THE SHADOW OF SUN MOUNTAIN: THE PSYCHOLOGY OF OTHERING AND THE ORIGINS OF EVIL
My book has two main goals. Firstly, it aims to shed light on the significant impact of theories concerning the fear of mortality on human behavior. Effectively illustrating how a particular historical event serves as an illustration of death anxiety and terror management theory achieves this. The central focus of this work is the genocide and ethnocide of the Tabeguache Ute Native American tribe, who once flourished on the land I currently reside on in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. By examining these psychological frameworks, the underlying causes and inevitability of such atrocities become apparent. Secondly, this book seeks to outline how my own creative pursuits have reflected these theories.

I’ve written a biography of my creative life. In that, I’ve included events in my life that served as death reminders and how I became aware of my own mortality at eight years old. I’ve included how these questions have been a central theme in my photographic work for over 30 years. As I’ve written this out, I've connected the dots about how I’ve mitigated my own death anxiety using art.

A Painterly Desire

I’m reading about Otto Rank’s take on creativity. How a creative life can buffer death anxiety and how there is a dark side to the theory as well. I’m writing about a lot of this in the introduction to my book.

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

— Ernest Becker discussing Otto Rank in The Denial of Death

The evolution of this project has been enormous. The journey has taken an organic and authentic path to what I feel is the best work and the biggest contribution I’ve made in my creative life. I talk to my wife frequently about how few people “get this” or are interested in it. We have conversations about what that means or doesn't mean.

For me, it plays no role in my ambition and desire to make the work and offer it to the world. I have to do it. I can feel the effects of the work in my own life. I see photography and art in such a different way now. I see life and human behavior in a new and different way. I feel like I’ve grown and evolved immensely while making this work—it’s humbling and awesome.

I know I would have a larger audience for the project if I paid more attention to social media and marketing. I just don’t have that in me, and I couldn’t care less about it, to be completely honest. However, I do want people to engage with these ideas and my work. Maybe it’s for a different time or a different place. I’m not sure and can’t be bothered with that now. I just need to do the work and keep writing and thinking. I’m so grateful to have the time, health, and energy to do this. I’m thankful beyond words to live a life like this. I do appreciate those who read my essays and rants. I truly appreciate the feedback and the conversations I’ve had because of this project and posting these essays. Thank you. It means a lot to me. You know who you are.

“Rocky Mountain Raspberry Flower and Mullein in a Glass Graduate,” 10” x 10” (25,4 x 25,4 cm), June 10, 2023, RA-4 Color Reversal Print (direct positive, in camera, no negative).

I’ve always said that I’m a frustrated painter. I’ve been experimenting with the technical aspects of the RA-4 reversal process (direct color prints) to reflect that desire. I have a filter pack that I’ve dialed in to compensate for the RA-4 color paper. I use my old Petzval lenses for all of these images, and between that old glass and my exposure times, I can get very painterly-looking images. I truly love them. My filter pack and this high-altitude light render black as red or reddish-magenta. The Rocky Mountain Raspberry plants started flowering the other day, and I knew they wouldn’t be around very long, so I crafted a scene where I could have a “painterly” background and isolate that beautiful white flower. I am very pleased with the results. I really love the “apocalyptic” sky in the one print too. The process reveals such wonderful renditions of the flora here.

I’ll continue to work over the summer. I plan on making several landscape images as well as some fauna prints. I’ll continue to work with the flora as the new season brings life to the mountain.

“Rocky Mountain Raspberry Flower and Mullein in a Glass Graduate,” 10” x 10” (25,4 x 25,4 cm), June 10, 2023, RA-4 Color Reversal Print (direct positive, in camera, no negative).

The Last Messiah by Peter Wessel Zapffe (1933)

“The Last Messiah” by Peter Wessel Zapffe: An Overview and Analysis

Peter Wessel Zapffe - 1899-1990 Norwegian Pessimistic Philosopher

I encourage you to download the essay and read it, then come back to this analysis. It will put everything into context.

The Norwegian philosopher Peter Wessel Zapffe is little-known to most Anglophone readers. He was greatly inspired by Arthur Schopenhauer and has been called one of the “bleakest thinkers of all times and places.” Zapffe was also an avid mountaineer and a friend of fellow Norwegian philosopher—and originator of deep ecology—Arne Næss. His only major work is his doctoral dissertation, On the Tragic (1941), which has never been translated into any other language, although an English translation is currently in the works. Justin Weinberg, writing for Daily Nous, says that On the Tragic is “an achievement that alone ranks him as one of the most original and incisive thinkers of the past century.” Fortunately, though, we can familiarize ourselves with some of the themes and ideas expressed in this work through a short essay that Zapffe wrote, one of his few works to ever be translated into English.

"The Last Messiah" is a 1933 essay that encapsulates Zapffe’s view on the human condition and stands out as an important work in the sphere of philosophical pessimism. The views expressed can be classified as a kind of evolutionary existentialism in that Zapffe propounds a view on the nature of human existence that incorporates an evolutionary perspective. "The Last Messiah" summarizes the thoughts that Zapffe would later express in On the Tragic. The horror writer Thomas Ligotti also frequently references Zapffe’s essay in his pessimistic nonfiction work The Conspiracy Against the Human Race: A Contrivance of Horror (2010).

Zapffe’s Analysis of the Human Condition in "The Last Messiah"

For Zapffe, existential angst, despair, and depression are due to our overly evolved intellect. He believed — as he argues in "The Last Messiah"—that we have an overabundance of consciousness, we essentially think too much for our own good. He refers to the human being as “a biological paradox, an abomination, an absurdity, an exaggeration of disastrous nature.” Rust Cohle, a nihilistic character in the series True Detective, expresses the same view: "I think human consciousness is a tragic misstep in evolution."

“Man beholds the earth, and it is breathing like a great lung; whenever it exhales, delightful life swarms from all its pores and reaches out toward the sun, but when it inhales, a moan of rupture passes through the multitude, and corpses whip the ground like bouts of hail.”

— Peter Zapffe, The Last Messiah

In his essay, Zapffe goes on to say that we are a species that “had been armed too heavily”—for after all, what animal needs to be aware of its own mortality, or needs to be so prone to anxiety? For Zapffe, our becoming mentally over-equipped has resulted in us becoming “fearful of life itself,” 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. Aldous Huxley, in his novel Chrome Yellow (1921), wrote:

If one had an imagination vivid enough and a sympathy sufficiently sensitive to comprehend and feel the sufferings of other people, one would never have a moment’s peace of mind.

Zapffe's point is that our imagination is so naturally vivid that we can't help but let "the suffering of human billions" enter our awareness through the "gateway of compassion." And such a clear-eyed view of reality is overwhelming. In a rather evocative passage, Zapffe writes:

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

The species of deer that Zapffe has in mind is the Irish elk (Megaloceros giganteus), which thrived throughout Eurasia during the ecological epoch known as the Pleistocene (2.6 million to 11,700 years ago). The Irish elk had the largest antlers of any known deer, with a maximum span of 3.65 meters. Historically, the explanation given for the extinction of the Irish elk was that its antlers grew too large: the animals could no longer hold up their heads or feed properly—their antlers, according to this explanation, would also get entangled in trees, such as when trying to flee human hunters through forests. However, according to some researchers, the large antlers of the Irish elk may have had little to do with the extinction of the species. Yet regardless of whether the Irish elk's antlers did, indeed, weigh these creatures down, Zapffe's analogy is still illuminating in its own right.

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

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

“Daisies, Ponderosa Pine, and Stones (detail),” June 6, 2023 10” x 10” (25,4 x 25,4cm) RA-4 Color Reversal Print (made in camera, a direct positive, no negative)

Coping Mechanisms

In "The Last Messiah," Zapffe postulates four main methods humans have used for limiting the contents of their consciousness, including:

Isolation, which involves “a fully arbitrary dismissal from consciousness of all disturbing and destructive thought and feeling,” It is an avoidance of thinking about the human condition and the terrible truths that Zapffe believes this entails. He also describes the technique of isolation by quoting a certain "Engstrom," whose identity remains uncertain: “One should not think, it is just confusing.”

Anchoring involves the “fixation of points within, or construction of walls around, the liquid fray of consciousness.” This requires that we consistently focus our attention on a value or ideal (the examples Zapffe gives include "God, the Church, the State, morality, fate, the laws of life, the people, and the future”).

Distraction, which is when “one limits attention to the critical bounds by constantly enthralling it with impressions," prevents the mind from examining itself and becoming aware of the tragedy of human existence. It is easy to think of how we, in modern times, incessantly distract ourselves with external stimulation; some examples Zapffe gives include entertainment, sport, and radio.

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, 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, and aesthetically valuable works.

Is There No Room for Joy?

Comparisons have been made between Zapffe’s views on the human condition and sublimation to the thought of Friedrich Nietzsche. In The Gay Science (1882), Nietzsche writes: “Higher human beings distinguish themselves from the lower by seeing and hearing, and thoughtfully seeing and hearing, immeasurably more”. But this higher degree of sensitivity, of looking deeply into life, results in suffering. In The Birth of Tragedy (1872), Nietzsche, like Zapffe, defends the remedial effects of art: “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.”

When the first three repression techniques outline by Zapffe fail, which they do for a minority of people, then creative expression may be the only available means of coping with the “horrors of night," as Nietzsche put it. Arguably, the rarity of sublimation helps to explain why geniuses are also rare, as creative work is often the only saving grace for those people deeply attuned to the fullness of the human predicament. In the words of Aristotle: “No great genius has ever existed without a touch of madness.” Elsewhere Aristotle stated: “Those who have become eminent in philosophy, politics, poetry, and the arts have all had tendencies toward melancholia.” Many studies have indeed found links between psychopathology and creativity, with many such studies discussed in Dean Keith Simonton’s book Origins of Genius (1999).

To save oneself from becoming overwhelmed, panicked, and despondent, creative work acts as a protective mechanism, as Zapffe argues, although such creative expression may be regarded as more valuable than simply protection against consciousness; it can be thought of as providing the very meaning that people yearn for, which Zapffe believes is unobtainable. Nietzsche, for instance, maintained that “To live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering.” The psychiatrist Viktor Frankl also echoed the view that meaning can be found in our relationship to suffering. It is possible to transcend the sense of meaningless and hopelessness we have by creating something genuinely valuable and meaningful.

Here we can make a distinction between cosmic nihilism, which paints the universe as inherently meaningless and terrestrial nihilism, which treats all of human life and activity as meaningless. Even pessimistic philosophers such as David Benatar concede that human life can be meaningful. We don’t have to fall into terrestrial nihilism, as well as cosmic nihilism. By advancing meaning in terrestrial, human affairs, the panic that Zapffe alludes to may only hold true when we take the cosmic perspective. Furthermore, if meaning can be found in transforming one’s own suffering or that of others, then this could entail actions that go beyond sublimation. There seems to be discoverable meaning for people — such as being of service to others or serving something bigger than oneself — that could be defined as an intrinsic part of the human condition, rather than a way of escaping the human condition.

On Zapffe’s point that our surplus of consciousness is to blame for the unique experience of existential angst and depression, I think it could be equally claimed that this surplus also enables converse feelings of existential joy. Of course, it can be disputed as to whether the existential angst is what comes more easily, but at least in cases of rarefied genius, so those people who cannot repress consciousness like the majority do, there is often a great capacity for joy, as well as sorrow. This seems to hinge on these people’s sensitivity to the totality of one’s individual consciousness, the human condition in general, and the world at large. Thus, just as despair can accompany any ordinary day, in solitude with one’s mind, so can ecstasy. One becomes open to the wide range of human experience and emotion, and privy to its depths and intensities.

As a case in point, Nietzsche experienced extreme states of suffering, both physical and psychological in nature, and focused much of his work on the problem of human suffering; but Nietzsche nonetheless seemed open to intense joys as well. He writes:

The intensities of my feeling make me shudder and laugh; several times I could not leave the room for the ridiculous reason that my eyes were inflamed — from what? Each time, I had wept too much on my previous day’s walk, not sentimental tears but tears of joy; I sang and talked nonsense, filled with a glimpse of things which put me in advance of all other men.

In the preface to The Gay Science, he also spoke of the elation and hopefulness that can follow a confrontation with suffering:

This book might need more than one preface; and in the end there would still be room for doubting whether someone who has not experienced something similar could, by means of prefaces, be brought closer to the experience of this book. It seems to be written in the language of the wind that brings a thaw: it contains high spirits, unrest, contradiction, and April weather, so that one is constantly reminded of winter’s nearness as well as of the triumph over winter that is coming, must come, perhaps has already come. . . Gratitude flows forth incessantly, as if that which was most unexpected had just happened — the gratitude of a convalescent — for recovery was what was most unexpected. "Gay Science": this signifies saturnalia of a mind that has patiently resisted a terrible, long pressure — patiently, severely, coldly, without yielding, but also without hope — and is now all of a sudden attacked by hope, by hope for health, by the intoxication of recovery. Is it any wonder that in the process much that is unreasonable and foolish comes to light, much wanton tenderness, lavished even on problems that have a prickly hide, not made to be fondled and lured? This entire book is really nothing but an amusement after long privation and powerlessness, the jubilation of returning strength, of a reawakened faith in a tomorrow and a day after tomorrow, of a sudden sense and anticipation of a future, of impending adventures, of reopened seas, of goals that are permitted and believed in again.

“Flowering Ponderosa Pine,” June 6, 2023 10” x 10” (25,4 x 25,4cm) RA-4 Color Reversal Print (made in camera, a direct positive, no negative)

On Zapffe’s Evolutionary Existentialism

While the argument could be made that Zapffe is perhaps unduly pessimistic in his outlook, I do think he delivers a keen insight into the human condition by focusing on the evolutionary perspective. It seems clear that our biological, evolutionary imperatives do not always closely align with human well-being and, at least on some accounts, such imperatives seem diametrically opposed to our happiness. For example, in Buddhism, craving is cast as the root of human suffering, yet craving serves a crucial biological and evolutionary function; it makes us constantly feel unsatisfied with what is, projecting satisfaction on what could be, causing us to constantly strive, but never gaining lasting satisfaction, only temporary satisfaction. But this treadmill of desire is what keeps us motivated to survive and reproduce.

Zapffe refers to the human organism as a “biological paradox,” but actually, I think while his analysis of the human condition may hold true, it is not so hard to see why the human intellect is as it is, even if it leads to the unique human experience of existential angst. Evolutionary trade-offs are commonplace. There are countless examples of where an advantageous change in one trait leads to a disadvantageous change in another trait. In the case of humans, we can easily see that our degree of intellect as advantageous in a strictly biological context, but at the same time we can say that we have too much intellect and awareness, that it makes us prone to a wide spectrum of negative states, from rumination to horrific despair.

However, in evolutionary terms, we might posit that the benefits of our highly (or overly) evolved intellect outweigh the downsides, even if experientially, for the individual, those downsides entail existential panic and an indefatigable kind of discomfort. Zapffe notes, however, that most people avoid the real horrors of seeing the human predicament clearly, with “[p]ure example of life-panic [being] presumably rare.” This is because “the protective mechanisms are refined and automatic and to some extent unremitting.” Evolution is not a perfect system of design, so even if the protective mechanisms don’t successfully work for all individuals or don’t work all the time, with life-panic sometimes rising to the surface, our overly evolved intellect is nevertheless beneficial overall, within a strictly evolutionary framework. So long as we have the four repressional techniques in place, working for most people most of the time, it seems the human species can avoid extinction.

Thus, the human situation is unique, undoubtedly, but I would not necessarily view it as paradoxical from an evolutionary perspective, although it is paradoxical in the sense that, as a consequence of biological evolution, we have the intellectual capacity to question life itself and even reject it, a capacity absent from members of any other species, who we presume are merely directed by biological impulses, without protest or question.

Zapffe’s other characterization of the species as an “absurdity” is probably quite apt. It certainly fits in with Albert Camus’ description of the human condition in The Myth of Sisyphus, in which Camus analogizes human life with that of the king Sisyphus, who in Greek mythology was said to have been punished by Zeus for his self-aggrandizement and forced to eternally roll a giant boulder up a hill, watch it roll down, and then have to roll it up again. For Camus, human life is comparable to this absurd activity, in that our condition and the world do not meet our desires: we want meaning, a fundamental reason for our existence, but we are unable to find such a meaning or purpose. This is a point that Zapffe also underscores. The boulder is the meaning we try to construct (be it scientific, metaphysical, or religious), but they inevitably fail to meet our need for meaning (according to Camus, anyway), and this causes us to construct another meaning, with the process repeating itself, like in the case of Sisyphus.

One potential criticism I would level against Zapffe’s "The Last Messiah" essay is that the mind may already — naturally — repress consciousness, without any artificial methods of repression in place. This is known as the "reducing valve theory" of the mind, expounded by philosophers such as Henri Bergson and C.D. Broad, and then later popularized by Aldous Huxley in The Doors of Perception (1954). This theory also appears to be with more modern research on human consciousness. For example, research has demonstrated that the human brain has evolved a large-scale network — called the default mode network (DMN) — that represses consciousness, to limit the amount of information reaching conscious awareness. Thus, the repression of consciousness seems to be biological and inbuilt, and not just artificial, as Zapffe argues.

More importantly, however, if you disable this repressional capacity of the brain, which occurs under the influence of psychedelics, this results in even more information becoming available to our awareness, an even greater abundance of consciousness. Under Zapffe’s assumptions, this would nail us down to the ground even more powerfully. Yet increased depression is not what is seen when this happens. Instead, the opposite often occurs. Such antidepressant effects can also be maintained in the long-term.

This might not be a knock-down argument against Zapffe’s main point, of course, since you might want to counter and say that the psychedelic state is but another way of fighting the default, unpleasant state of human consciousness, along with the four repressional techniques that Zapffe outlines. However, I think this research does seem to point to the fact that human consciousness is not always imprisoning and that there is the possibility of having a surplus of consciousness without falling into existential panic, even in the absence of repressional techniques.

Antinatalism in "The Last Messiah"

Based on his rather bleak diagnosis of the human species, Zapffe puts forward his notion of "the last messiah": “[a] man who has fathomed life and its cosmic ground, and whose pain is the Earth’s collective pain.” Such a messiah would, in Zapffe’s mind, cause outrage among the general public, with passionate calls made for his death, just as in the case of other messiahs. But the vital message of this last messiah is starkly different from those messiahs preceding him; in fact, whereas most messiahs have life-affirming messages, this last messiah has a life-denying one: “Know yourselves — be infertile, and let the earth be silent after ye.” This is the best solution available to us, according to Zapffe.

Such a view is a proclamation of antinatalism, a philosophy that recommends we desist from procreation, also professed by philosophers such as Emil Cioran. It is certainly antithetical to the more pronatalist values found in the Bible, such as when God declared to humanity: “Be fruitful and multiply” (Genesis 1:28). Zapffe’s antinatalist philosophy is also succinctly summed up in his statement: “To bear children into this world is like carrying wood to a burning house.” Zapffe took antinatalism seriously and remained childless throughout his life. Elsewhere, he said:

In accordance with my conception of life, I have chosen not to bring children into the world. A coin is examined, and only after careful deliberation, given to a beggar, whereas a child is flung out into the cosmic brutality without hesitation.

Zapffe, as we can see, takes an extremely pessimistic view of the human condition. In many people’s eyes, it may be too pessimistic to be considered realistic, which is what most philosophical pessimists aim for in their thought. Zapffe’s evolutionary existentialism could also be accurate, yet still narrow in excluding the joyous mode of being available to us, which can remain even after we reject all of the repressional techniques that Zapffe describes. Perhaps existential panic comes easily, but this does not mean existential joy is always out of reach. After all, our abundance of consciousness — our level of self-awareness — also gives us the unique capacity to rejoice about our existence.

I found this article by Sam Woolfe on partially examined life. I did edit it, but I left the main ideas in tact.

What Will They Think?

Every day, I find myself exploring questions that I never had time to deeply consider before. In the quiet moments, which are few and far between in the modern world, the big questions are only briefly on our minds, and we move on. We never discuss them or have time to deeply think about them.

I was always too busy, distracted, and “tranquilizing with the trivial.” I wasn’t any different than most people. I tried to fight through it by making art and occasionally inquiring about the big questions. I was successful at times, but the culturally constructed life consumed most of my thoughts and actions; mere survival (my relationships, my financial life, paying the bills, my job, my career) always took precedence and walled me off from the bigger life and death questions.

I was constantly trying to fulfill my social role and bolster my self-esteem, like most people do (like culturally constructed meat puppets). Now, I’m afforded time—time that I’ve never had before. I rarely pay attention to the time of day or day of the week. Most of the time, I get up with the sun and go to bed when it’s dark. I lose track of time working in my darkroom and studio.

“The more powerful and original a mind, the more it will incline towards the religion of solitude.”

— Aldous Huxley

What a gift it is to live among the black bears, mountain lions, and wild turkeys! I walk in nature every day under and beside the big Ponderosa Pine, Douglas Fir, and Aspen trees with Jeanne (or every chance I get, weather permitting). I get to see the beautiful mountains and landscape, the wildlife, and breathe fresh mountain air. To see the red-tailed hawks soaring over the mountains, the bluejays gathering food, and the hummingbirds getting busy for summer is a beautiful thing.

I live a life infused with peace, quiet, and solitude. What freedom! I’ve never really experienced those things before, and I am beyond grateful to have them. It’s radically changed me for the better. I’m closer to living an authentic life than I’ve ever been before. It’s a process, but I’m aware of it and working on it. The first step to change and improvement is to recognize what’s wrong.

Time can be a dangerous thing to have. If people could spend a few months without the hustle and bustle of being a culturally constructed meat puppet, they would begin to become self-aware. They would begin focusing on the important things and devoting their time and energy to them. Self-awareness leads to understanding and the strength to face uncomfortable ideas and make changes. Our culture doesn’t want us to do that. They want us preoccupied with conspicuous consumption, shopping, alcohol, drugs, fashion, pursuing wealth and popularity, and all of the other malignant ways we use to buffer our existential anxiety.

With time to deeply think about what it means to be human, face mortality, and ponder meaning and significance in your life, you learn how tiny you are and how finite and meaningless (cosmically speaking) you are. You can start to grasp the implications of knowing that you will die and be forgotten. You deal with impermanence and insignificance in a healthy, life-affirming way, not in a death-denying, destructive way (like a meat puppet).

You begin to see humility as a great asset and understand how gratitude will buttress existential terror. You’re in awe of life every day. I’m learning this now. We live in a death-denying culture. I’m doing my very best, through my photographic work, my writing, and these essays, to unpack what it means to come to terms with mortality and be an authentic man.

“Seeded Mullein and Antlers” May 16, 2023, 10” x 10” (25,4 x 25.4 cm) (Made in camera, no negative) RA-4 Reversal Color Direct Print-Mullein is a relaxing, calming smoke that soothes the lungs and opens up air passageways. It’s smooth smoking with a mild flavor and aroma; it is a profound respiratory tonic that opens the lungs and softens coughs, soothes irritation, and reduces dryness. Antlers were used by Native Americans in many ways, including pipes.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about our need for symbolic immortality. Ernest Becker called these efforts “immortality projects.” I can relate to this need and this desire, all while knowing that it’s a fool’s errand to pursue. What will people think of me in a hundred or a thousand years? What will they think of my work? The answer is they won’t and nothing.

However, the work we do or the projects we pursue fulfill a greater purpose. They give our lives meaning and significance. That’s extremely important. It is all ephemeral and means nothing in the cosmic scheme of things. It’s absolutely meaningless that way. As an artist, it’s my way of keeping death anxiety at bay.

Acknowledging this fact has made me even more interested in making pictures and writing about our existence as people living with death anxiety. It’s brought me joy and made me happy. I want to live with the fact that what I do is meaningful in buffering my own death anxiety; it’s my terror management, but I want to embrace its cosmic meaninglessness without having fear or dread.

Peter Zapffe called it sublimation. In his essay “The Last Messiah,” he said, “The fourth remedy against panic, sublimation, is a matter of transformation rather than repression. Through stylistic or artistic gifts can the very pain of living at times be converted into valuable experiences. Positive impulses engage the evil and put it to their own ends, fastening onto its pictorial, dramatic, heroic, lyric or even comic aspects.”

He suggests that sublimation involves transforming one's pain, suffering, and anxiety into something positive and valuable through artistic or stylistic expression.

Rather than simply repressing or denying their existential terror, individuals can channel it into creative works such as art, literature, music, or poetry. This can give their suffering meaning and purpose, as well as offer a sense of catharsis or release. By engaging with the darker aspects of life in a creative way, individuals can transform their pain into something that is not only bearable but even beautiful or inspiring.

Zapffe notes that this approach requires a certain level of skill and talent in the arts but suggests that anyone can benefit from engaging with creative expression in some way. By finding ways to channel their pain and suffering into something productive and meaningful, individuals can confront the difficult aspects of existence in a way that is both honest and life-affirming.

I’ve embedded the trailer for the film “Flight from Death: The Quest for Immortality” below. I highly encourage you to see this film. On Saturday, May 20, 2023, I'll be attending an online symposium called “Ernest Becker, Terror Management Theory, and Death Acceptance: An Online Symposium Celebrating 50 Years of The Denial of Death, With Caitlin Doughty & Sheldon Solomon.” There are a lot of great speakers, and I’m excited to hear about new ideas and expound on existing theories. The gentleman who made the film “Flight from Death: The Quest for Immortality” will be speaking. Also, he’ll be releasing a biopic on Ernest Becker later this year. That’s exciting news for me!

“When you remember me, it means that you have carried something of who I am with you, that I have left some mark of who I am on who you are. It means that you can summon me back to your mind even though countless years and miles may stand between us. It means that if we meet again, you will know me. It means that even after I die, you can still see my face and hear my voice and speak to me in your heart.
For as long as you remember me, I am never entirely lost. When I’m feeling most ghost-like, it is your remembering me that helps remind me that I actually exist. When I’m feeling sad, it’s my consolation. When I’m feeling happy, it’s part of why I feel that way.
If you forget me, one of the ways I remember who I am will be gone. If you forget, part of who I am will be gone.”

— Frederick Buechner, Whistling in the Dark: A Doubter's Dictionary

“Seeded Mullein - Detail)” May 16, 2023, 10” x 10” (25,4 x 25.4 cm) (Made in camera, no negative) RA-4 Reversal Color Direct Print.

“ANTIDOTES TO FEAR OF DEATH

Sometimes as an antidote
To fear of death,
I eat the stars.

Those nights, lying on my back,
I suck them from the quenching dark
Til they are all, all inside me,
Pepper hot and sharp.

Sometimes, instead, I stir myself
Into a universe still young,
Still warm as blood:

No outer space, just space,
The light of all the not yet stars
Drifting like a bright mist,
And all of us, and everything
Already there
But unconstrained by form.

And sometime it’s enough
To lie down here on earth
Beside our long ancestral bones:

To walk across the cobble fields
Of our discarded skulls,
Each like a treasure, like a chrysalis,
Thinking: whatever left these husks
Flew off on bright wings.”

— Rebecca Elson

The Influence of Color

“in·flu·ence (noun) the capacity to have an effect on the character, development, or behavior of someone or something, or the effect itself.”

— Oxford Dictionary

I love paintings. I always have. I’ve said many times that I’m a "frustrated painter." I’ve always said that one day I'd learn to paint. That may still happen. For now, I’m exploring the emotional influence that color prints bring to my photographic work (In the Shadow of Sun Mountain). The "vibration" of color, to use Marc Chagall's term, influences and moves me more as I produce more prints. I see it and, moreover, I feel it.

As I work through my ideas, I find what I’m attracted to is the "life vibrations," or the depth of life, that the colors bring to the subject matter. In other words, there is a poetry or feeling that they give where the monochrome fails. As an artist, you’re always searching for the right tool to use to make your work successful. The color prints are the correct tool for this work. I’m convinced.

“Cactus People With Water Vessel” May 14, 2023, 10” x 10” (25,4 x 25.4 cm) (Made in camera, no negative) RA-4 Reversal Color Direct Print I used my Derogy (1864) Petzval lens for this image. The beautiful fall-off, or depth of field, is like a half-remembered dream.

Working in the RA-4 reversal process has given me a lot of new ways to approach making photographs, too. The paper is quite “fast” (ISO)—I rate it at ISO 6 or 8 with the filter pack I’m using. That means I can work at times of the day and early evening that I was never able to with wet or dry collodion, let alone paper negatives. Also, I can “stop down” my lenses to gain depth of field and still manage to make exposures in seconds, not minutes. This opens an entirely new world for me. That’s very exciting, and I’m looking forward to the summer here and making this work come alive!

I see how this project has evolved over the two years I’ve been working on it. And I hope it will continue to evolve. I stay open and aware of that. For me, it has two layers: the personal exploration of our denial of death and terror management theory. This is the foundation for telling the story of the Tabeguache Ute, what happened to them here, and, more importantly, why it happened.

The second layer is more abstract, concerning poetry, beauty, and the life-affirming examination of mortality. For me, this is the perfect narrative. I have “skin in the game," given my preoccupation with marginal communities and the psychology that drives human behavior. And I have a love of the mystery of life and how beautiful it can be. My objectives have nothing to do with “self-help” or offering to analyze people’s lives through these psychological theories. It’s more about sharing my self-awareness and what that means for me. Also, there is a big part of it that is based on how these theories have driven human behavior and historical events. In the end, it’s both historical and personal, terrifying and beautiful. I feel like the color component helps me translate these kinds of concepts better than monochrome work. It elevates both the work and the concepts.

“Awe, humility and gratitude effectively mitigate death anxiety.”

— Sheldon Solomon

Color is now a primary tool for me to communicate the nuances and beauty of the place where I live. Through the color, I can talk about the history and events that took place here with a subtlety that I didn’t possess before. I know now that I’ll start (and have already started) incorporating visual ideas that represent the concepts of consciousness, death anxiety, awe, humility, and gratitude. I want to show how facing the existential anxieties that we all have can be resolved (or at least managed) through deeply reflecting on yourself, having true self-awareness, and being authentic.

Life is both beautiful and terrifying—that’s the paradox we face. Choosing to be death-forward (in the words of Heidegger) and working toward that horizon of opportunity to have a “turning” in your life is the goal. We will never be free from death anxiety. It will always be there. We can, however, learn to be in awe, be humble (not self-deprecating but understanding your position in the universe), and most of all, be grateful and have gratitude for life. It will end, no doubt, but we can strive toward being thoughtful, self-aware, open, and honest every day. Like Socrates said, examine yourself, be honest, and move toward the good.

“The bottom line is this: Terror Management Theory may seem like a dark and depressing topic, but it can actually shed a lot of light on the ways that we as humans strive to find meaning and purpose in a world that can sometimes seem bleak and meaningless. By understanding the ways that we cope with our mortality, we can begin to develop more positive and life-affirming strategies for dealing with the existential terror that is an inevitable part of the human experience.”

— Mark Manson

“Cactus People With Water Vessel” May 14, 2023, 10” x 10” (25,4 x 25.4 cm) (Made in camera, no negative) RA-4 Reversal Color Direct Print I used my Derogy (1864) Petzval lens for this image. I’ve made hundreds of portraits with this lens. I can control color with exposure—the length of exposure will warm or cool the image color. Absolutely amazing!

Understanding the Relationship Between Words and Pictures

There are some people who believe you don’t need any words or explanations (context) with art. Period. I understand that, at least to a certain extent. However, that statement lacks context, to put it mildly. It’s too broad of a statement to include all art.

I would argue that it depends on your goal and who your audience is, or who you want to see the work and who speaks your language (creative language). If you want to make pictures and say nothing, simply post them, publish them, or exhibit them, you can. You’re allowing the audience to interpret or create a narrative for the work. Remember, text taken out of context is pretext. In other words, people will make up context for your work or ignore it completely. Imagine trying to read a book or watch a movie with no plot, no beginning, middle, or end. No story. In my opinion, few people would be interested in that kind of material unless it was connected to a larger concept in some meaningful way.

I believe all artists (and humans in general) are storytellers at their core. We create stories, or illusions, to explain our lives, to make sense of them, and primarily to repress our existential dread. We need to tell stories; they make us human (Homo sapiens). Artists are acutely aware of this need. They pursue it with purpose and meaning, trying to squeeze everything out of life that they can. Expressing their greatest fears, their biggest questions, and their greatest joy and love of beauty.

“An Eruption from Quartz-Detail,” May 10, 2023, 10” x 10” (25,4 x 25.4 cm) (Made in camera, no negative) RA-4 Reversal Color Direct Print. I’m using 19th-century Petzval lenses to make these images. Thinking about death evokes a flood of dread and terror for most people. Death awareness seems antithetical to our existence. Humans have evolved psychologically to repress death awareness and embrace their cultural illusions.

There is no “rule” or set way to tell a story. You can drizzle and drip paint on a canvas, or even paint a canvas black or white and reveal or tell a story. You can make abstract, blurry pictures or shape clay into some abstract form. It’s about context. It comes down to your narrative and your audience. All art is not for everyone—it’s never “one size fits all.” It’s a language as unique as spoken and written languages. If your “art” is appealing to the masses, it’s probably some form of “commercial art” consumable by most everyone. This essay is about personal, fine art work.

The artist has a specific audience that will understand and appreciate the art. Some audiences understand and appreciate documentary work. This is probably more of a stretch than most would make, but I think of Diane Arbus, Richard Avedon, Mary Ellen Mark, and many more who worked in the blurry (no pun) area between art and documentary work. No one, at least I think no one, would argue their pictures are art; they tell a story and are powerful pieces of work. And then there are artists like Jackson Pollock or Mark Rothko who demand more interpretation and investigation. Pollock’s work is about the paint itself and his movement. We’re used to seeing paint represent something, but Pollock challenges us with his work. Rothko believed that his paintings could communicate a spiritual or emotional experience to the viewer, and he often titled his works with evocative, poetic titles that suggested a deeper meaning beyond the surface of the canvas. Many of his paintings are untitled, however, leaving the interpretation up to the viewer. His paintings are a powerful exploration of color, form, and emotion, and they continue to captivate and inspire viewers today. These artists are on the other end of the spectrum of what I’m talking about, but they still adhere to my thesis. Most people won’t spend time with work like theirs; it’s too abstract, and the viewer feels they have no context for the work, which is true. In reality, the viewer isn’t equipped to appreciate or understand the work. Part of it is interest in the work, and the other part is education. Learning their language so you can appreciate their work is a big part of it. Like I said, art consists of as many languages as there are artists. Not everyone speaks that many languages.

“Fireworks in Red and Yellow,” May 10, 2023, 10” x 10” (25,4 x 25.4 cm) (Made in camera, no negative) RA-4 Reversal Color Direct Print. I’m using 19th-century Petzval lenses to make these images. Awareness of death has such a pervasive influence on our lives. Most people rarely think about their deaths. They embrace their culture, bolster their self-esteem, and numb themselves to life’s reality: death.

Culturally Constructed Meat Puppets and Martin Heidegger

Reading through The Worm at the Core brings awareness to so many other ideas and extensions of these theories. I’ve been getting into Martin Heidegger and his ideas lately. His book (a set of lectures), “Being and Time” is available on archive.org. Forewarning: It’s a difficult book to read. It’s dense, and I don’t understand a lot of it. It was originally written in German, and the translator claimed that it was very difficult to translate into English (some say it’s impossible to translate). He was an extraordinary thinker—way beyond my capabilities to understand. There are some “nuggets” in the book. One of them, pointed out by Sheldon Solomon, is the quote in this essay. That’s what I’m most intrigued by.

Having lived in Germany and having a basic understanding of the language, the word “angst” is used a lot in his writing. I’ve always understood the word to mean “fear.” Most translate it to “anxiety.” What it really means is a feeling of uneasiness, or "dis-ease," or a feeling of not “being at home” (not in the literal sense of home, but psychologically). Heidegger gives a clear and compelling solution to overcoming, or at least coming to terms with, death and death anxiety. Kierkegaard offered a solution of taking a “leap into faith,” and Heidegger offers the same idea, but instead of faith, he says, “take a leap into life.” You can read the deconstruction of his philosophy below.

Another thing that I’ve been giving thought to is a “flowchart” of terror management theory. Breaking it down into a simple, line-by-line evolution of what happens to human beings in life as it applies to coping with the knowledge of death:

• You were born.

• You cry, scream, and shake; miraculously, a “deity figure(s)" (parents or caregivers) appears and your diaper is changed, you’re fed, or you're cuddled. Life is good.

• You grow older and lean on your parents or caregivers for psychological security as well as all of your Maslow needs (shelter, food, warmth, etc.).

• You grow through childhood and the teenage years, learning how to bolster your self-esteem. Your parents or caregivers provide the framework and reward for this. For example, when you learn to use the toilet, “Good boy or girl!” You earn top grades on your schoolwork. “Great job!” You go to the school prom, and everyone says, “You look so pretty or handsome!” This bolsters your self-esteem; you feel significant and have meaning in your life. Death anxiety is held at bay.

• You learn how to respect and honor your country or tribe (Americans put their hands over their hearts and say “the pledge of allegiance”) and the important symbols from your culture: a flag, a cross, a star, a uniform, etc.

• You attend religious services with your parents and learn how to be a “good person” and how to achieve immortality through a religion; this provides psychological security and buffers death anxiety. You know that you will never really die! Life is meaningful, and I have a purpose; my religion says so!

• You separate from your parents or caregivers as a young adult. Now, you look to your culture for the same psychological security that your parents or caregivers provided.

• You quickly learn what your culture rewards and what it doesn’t. This is how your cultural worldview is established and maintained. For example, you might belong to a particular religion you strongly believe in or a political group you adamantly embrace. You might get a promotion at your job, be recognized as “employee of the month,” get a degree from higher education, earn a lot of money, drive a fancy car, live in a big house, get a lot of “likes” on social media, etc. These all provide self-esteem for you. Self-esteem buffers death anxiety. It’s kept repressed and buried deep in your unconscious. In fact, some of you reading this will proclaim, “What are you talking about? This doesn’t apply to me; I don’t think about death!” Exactly. See how well it works? When you’re ensconced in your cultural worldview, it will keep thoughts of death repressed, at least for the most part.

• You go through life wrapped in the illusions that your culture provides—religion, community, politics, relationships, etc. They give you a feeling of significance in a meaningful world (psychological security). This keeps existential anxiety at bay, for the most part.

• You are, at this point, a culturally constructed meat puppet.

• If you are one of the unlucky ones or live in a culture that either doesn’t provide ways for you to bolster your self-esteem or that offers ways that are unattainable for the average person, i.e., not everyone can be a movie star, a rock star, a professional athlete, or the president of the United States, this can, and often does, extend to physical appearance as well. If you’re not thin (especially women) and stay young forever, the culture can be harsh and not only prevent you from getting self-esteem, it will point out your faults and shortcomings: you’re fat, you’re old, you're the wrong color, you have wrinkly skin and gray hair, etc.

• When a person cannot find ways to bolster their self-esteem, they will often turn to drugs, alcohol, eating, shopping, narcissistic behavior, social media, and different kinds of risky behaviors. The 19th-century philosopher Soren Kierkegaard called this “tranquilizing with the trivial.” One of the reasons the United States has such a high rate of drug abuse, depression, anxiety, and deaths of despair, including those that die by suicide, is because the culture sets standards for attaining self-esteem that are not attainable for the average American.

• According to Martin Heidegger, if one ceases to numb oneself to the knowledge of one's own mortality, known as "flight from death," and instead undergoes what he termed a "turning," they may discover a newfound sense of ease with death anxiety and the inherent truths of the human condition. This turning leads to a greater appreciation for life's simple yet profound pleasures, such as recognizing the beauty in virtuous individuals, the finite nature of humanity, the majesty of nature, or even something as seemingly mundane as a refreshing breeze on a sweltering day.

• Both Frederick Nietzsche and Ernest Becker discussed the concept of the "authentic man" in their respective philosophical works.

  Nietzsche believed that the authentic man was one who lived according to his own values and ideals, rather than those imposed upon him by society or tradition. For Nietzsche, the authentic man was a "free spirit," unencumbered by conventional morality or religious dogma. He argued that the authentic man was capable of creating his own values and living a fulfilling life, rather than being constrained by the values of others.

  Becker, on the other hand, believed that the authentic man was one who had come to terms with his own mortality and the inevitability of death. He argued that in order to live a meaningful life, one must confront the reality of death and the limitations of human existence. For Becker, the authentic man was one who had overcome the fear of death and embraced life fully, without illusions or delusions.

  In both cases, the authentic man is someone who is true to himself and lives a life that is genuinely his own. Nietzsche emphasizes the importance of individuality and creativity in this process, while Becker emphasizes the importance of confronting one's mortality and accepting the limitations of human existence. This is the antithesis of a culturally constructed meat puppet.

Culturally Constructed Meat Puppet

The Terror Management Theory (TMT), which is based on Becker's ideas, suggests that individuals cope with the inevitability of death by developing their self-esteem and identifying with their cultural group. This allows them to feel significant and have a sense of purpose and meaning in their lives.

However, there is a risk associated with this approach, as individuals may become "culturally constructed meat puppets" who are entirely dependent on their roles and conform to cultural standards for their sense of self-worth.

Becker's theory also explains why people tend to fear and dislike those who hold different beliefs or belong to different groups. When reminded of their mortality, people often become more strongly identified with their own groups and view outsiders as the embodiment of evil. This can result in animosity and even violence toward those who are different.

The idea of a “culturally constructed meat puppet” is meant to highlight the tension between our biological nature and our cultural aspirations. On the one hand, we are flesh-and-blood creatures that are subject to the laws of nature. On the other hand, we are aware that we need to create meaning and purpose through our engagement with our culture.

Are you a culturally constructed meat puppet? Humans are like hamsters on a wheel, spinning around and around and going nowhere—or like Sisyphus pushing the rock up the mountain only to have it roll back down over and over again. We do these things every day to distract ourselves from the knowledge of death. Beware of insatiable desires—money and stuff.

Martin Heidegger

Martin Heidegger (1889–1976) was a German philosopher who is widely regarded as one of the most important and influential philosophers of the 20th century. He is known for his highly original and complex philosophy, which deals with a wide range of topics including ontology (the study of being), phenomenology, hermeneutics (the study of interpretation), and existentialism.

Heidegger's most famous work is Being and Time, published in 1927, which is widely regarded as one of the most important philosophical works of the 20th century. In this book, Heidegger explores the nature of human existence and the relationship between being and time. He argues that human beings are fundamentally "thrown" into the world, meaning that we find ourselves in a particular time and place, and we must make sense of this situation through our own existence.

Heidegger's philosophy is highly influenced by his interest in ancient Greek philosophy as well as his experiences living in Germany during the 20th century. His political views, which included membership in the Nazi party in the early 1930s, have been the subject of controversy and criticism, but his philosophical ideas continue to be studied and debated by scholars and philosophers around the world.

“Turning away from a flight from death, you see a horizon of opportunity that puts you in a state of anticipatory resoluteness with solicitous regard for others that makes your life seem like an adventure perfused with unshakeable joy.”

— Martin Heidegger, Being and Time (1927)

This quote is a reflection of Martin Heidegger's philosophy, which places great emphasis on the concept of "being toward death." For Heidegger, death is not simply an event that happens to us at some point in the future but rather an essential aspect of our being. In other words, our mortality is not something we can escape or ignore; it is a fundamental part of who we are.

The quote suggests that if one confronts their mortality and does not try to flee from it, they may see a horizon of opportunities that can give their life a sense of purpose and direction. By embracing the inevitability of death, one can live with a sense of "anticipatory resoluteness," meaning that they are ready and willing to face whatever challenges come their way.

Additionally, Heidegger suggests that this attitude should be accompanied by "solicitous regard for others," meaning that we should also be concerned with the well-being of those around us. By living with this kind of awareness and consideration for others, one's life can become an "adventure perfused with unshakeable joy," filled with meaning and purpose.

Heidegger's quote highlights the importance of confronting our mortality and living with a sense of purpose and concern for others. It's a beautiful idea that everyone should work toward. The first step is to understand the true nature of your condition, without doing that, nothing changes.

Death Near and Far

"The Worm at the Core: On the Role of Death in Life"

Chapter 9: Death Near and Far

• Death: Out of Sight, Out of Mind?

• The Power of the Unconscious

• Death Can Be Hazardous to Your Health

This is a reading of the book "The Worm at the Core: On the Role of Death in Life" by Sheldon Solomon, Jeff Greenberg, and Tom Pyszczynski. Quinn reads a chapter every week and then has a discussion about it. This book, along with "The Denial of Death" by Ernest Becker, is the basis for Quinn's (photographic) book, "In the Shadow of Sun Mountain: The Psychology of Othering and the Genesis of Evil."

When: Saturday, May 13, 2023, at 1000 MST

Where: My YouTube channel and Stream Yard

YouTube: https://youtube.com/live/OIiP8PxUqQ8

Stream Yard: https://streamyard.com/sj22vz87ji

#intheshadowofsunmountain #ernestbecker #deathanxiety #denialofdeath #sheldonsolomon #jeffgreenberg #tompyszcynski #terrormanagementtheory #thewormatthecore #quinnjacobson #studioQ #chemicalpictures #proximalanddistaldefenses #ra4reversal

RA-4 Reversal Color Prints

After 20+ years of working with wet and dry collodion (all variants), plus calotypes, daguerreotypes, and all of the P.O.P. processes you can imagine and some you can’t, people have asked why I’m working in color now. It’s a good question, and it's more than fair to ask why the big change—I’m happy to answer it.

If you’ve followed my journey on this project (“In the Shadow of Sun Mountain: The Psychology of Othering and the Origins of Evil"), you’ll know I’ve spent a lot of time connecting the craft to the concept. Throughout that discovery process, I felt something was lacking but couldn’t put my finger on it. Over the winter, I had a lot of time to write and think about what I'd been doing. What I discovered was that I’d been missing the beauty here; it was lacking in the photographs. Please don’t misunderstand me. I have some gorgeous negatives and prints in wet and dry collodion as well as paper negatives and prints. However, as I lived with them and looked at them over and over, I couldn’t help but see that they didn’t fully represent this gorgeous place where I live.

“Color is all. When color is right, form is right. Color is everything, color is vibration like music; everything is vibration.”

— Marc Chagall

How do you resolve that problem? For me, it was making work in color. I’ve written before about trying to paint the prints with watercolor, etc. It’s not the same. As I wrote my biography for my book, I wrote about the first photographic exhibition I had: polaroids. Gorgeous color, a little off with the color (like expired film), and very manipulated. Look up Lucas Samaras. This inspired me to go back to my “color days” in photography to resolve the “beauty” problem. I really enjoyed shooting Kodachrome and making Cibacrome (Ilfochrome) prints from the 35mm positives. I had experimented with direct color positives then too. So I revisited that, and here I am. This has been a boost for my creativity, and I’ve just started. You’ll see, over the spring and summer, what I do with this. It opens a lot of new and exciting possibilities for me. I absolutely love it!

I’m interested in the idea of memory. It’s one of the four words I’ve always used to make work: identity, difference, memory, and justice. These words are like legs on a table that support my work conceptually. I’ve tried to semiotically mirror these in the photographs I make.

“Drinking Vessel, Cactus, and Dried Barley” May 5, 2023, 10” x 10” (23,4 x 23, 4 cm) RA-4 Reversal direct color print.

“Drinking Vessel, Cactus, Quartz, and Dried Barley,” May 5, 2023, 10” x 10” (23,4 x 23,4 cm) RA-4 Reversal direct color print The “aurora borealis” artifacts in this print are very interesting to me; just like in wet or dry collodion or even paper negatives, the artifacts in these prints can be very appropriate for the concepts I’m working with.