Agreed Madness

It’s our “one month” anniversary today. We’ve been in New Mexico for 30 days, and man, time has whizzed by!!

Between unpacking boxes and running household errands, I’ve been slowly getting back on track to work on my book. I get excited about the thought of actually completing this work. It’s no longer a hope or dream; it’s close to becoming a reality.

“Man literally drives himself into a blind obliviousness with social games, psychological tricks, and personal preoccupations so far removed from the reality of his situation that they are forms of madness—agreed madness, shared madness, disguised and dignified madness, but madness all the same.”

— Ernest Becker, Denial of Death

These theories seem simple on the surface, but it takes some deep thinking and evaluation to really understand them and, moreover, to apply them to your life. My hope is that by sharing these ideas and concepts in a book, it will inspire people (especially artists) to engage with these theories and start to share them through their art.

I wrote a while ago about someone asking me if there was a movement in art around “death anxiety.” In other words, Becker’s and Solomon's (et al.) theories could form an entire art movement based on the theories dealing with death anxiety and terror management. This is what happened in existential psychology. There are people working on PhDs in terror management theory and have been for years; why not art? Not unlike impressionism, cubism, dada, etc.

In a lot of ways, all art does address these ideas, but rarely intentionally or consciously. It’s food for thought and a wonderful way to get people to engage with these ideas.

Importance of Creativity

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

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

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

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

Radical Mindfulness Why Transforming Fear of Death is Politically Vital

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

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

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

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

Existential Distress No. 3

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

— Nietzsche

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

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

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

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

Existential Distress No. 1 and No. 2

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

― Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death

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

Addressing Existential Terror Through Art

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

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

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

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

— Ernest Becker, Denial of Death

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

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

— Guillaume Apollinaire

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

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

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

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

Psychology and Art: An Interesting Question

I recently got an email from someone in New Zealand that really caught my interest. They're in a Ph.D. program for creative writing and posed a very interesting question. I won't spill the whole email to keep things private, but here's the scoop: they wanted to know about artists influenced by death anxiety and terror management theory, seeing them as potential genres in art and literature. They gave a shoutout to my website and wished me luck in 2024. (Thanks for the email if you happen to see this post.)

I've been thinking a lot about this question. I've only come across one article about a painter diving into Becker's theories for their art. It's a fascinating question that could kick off a bit of a "movement" in the creative arts world if artists could accommodate and assimilate these theories. Most of the information on death anxiety and terror management theory is wrapped up in the world of science and academia. Most artists won't read these kinds of books and papers.

Imagine if artists from all walks of life hopped on board and started creating based on these ideas. It could add a whole new layer to humanity that other genres might miss. Sure, these ideas are a bit tricky to grasp and even tougher to apply to your own life. But once you get them, they're a game-changer.

How awesome would it be to encourage artists to dig into Becker's work and create stuff directly tied to death anxiety and terror management theory? Here's the kicker: a ton of art already revolves around these ideas; we just don't always see it that way. Death is something we all grapple with, and we're all kind of in denial that it's coming for us at some point. It's a universal theme that could make art even more relatable and powerful.

"Culturally Constructed Meat Puppets," 3.75" x 5" acrylic on paper.

Small Paintings (Abstract Warm Up)

I thought I’d share these small (5” x 3.75”) warmup paintings that I can mount on greeting cards and send people some (small) original works. I think they’re really cool. I worked with the theme of “circles” and color theory on these (the group of four images). I’m sure that’s obvious. I’m quite pleased with them. Not masterpieces, but interesting nonetheless. I see improvement with every piece I paint, and I find joy and meaning in every one I do.

Lately, I’ve had people comment and question my painting journey. I want to be perfectly clear: I’m on an exploration, a journey of discovery. I know I’m not Picasso, and I’m not trying to be. I’m not interested in the “academic” approach to painting or drawing either. I have nothing against any of that, and I’m open to learning if it helps my journey, but I’m simply not interested in painting apples and peaches in Rembrandt lighting (his apples are amazing, just not what I want to pursue).

I will learn and grow by doing. I posted a while back about painting a piece every day; that’s what I’m doing (at least one). I’m not after commercial success or “likes” or recognition; I’m simply trying to express some of my ideas about the human condition through putting paint and marks on a surface. That’s all. Whether people like them or not, that’s what I’m going to do. And if I end up painting pieces that really speak to me and my project, I’ll put them in my book. If I don’t, I won’t.

I believe there’s a part of me that is rebelling against photography a little bit too. I love the craft I spent my entire adult life in, but for the past few years, it has felt very mechanical and distant to me. There’s a part of me that feels “bored” with it. I feel like I’ve seen everything a dozen times. I’m not interested in that at all. It was time to break out the paint. I’ve threatened for years that I would eventually paint, and here I am. Something inside of me knew that long before I started. A big part of my (later) life has been about growing, changing, and challenging myself. What was left for me to do in photography? Not much. I accomplished almost everything I wanted to do. So I’ve changed lanes a little bit anyway.

Please don’t misunderstand me. I will always have a darkroom, a camera, and the ability to make photographs. And I will. For now, however, I want to explore and learn to paint. I’m loving it! I think that will occupy the majority of my time for the foreseeable future (with a bit of photography in there too).

The one thing that I don’t want to do in my sixties is live life burdened with what others think or feel about what I do or don’t do and feel any pressure to do what others think I should. I want to love, live in peace, find joy in everything I pursue, and not have any of the world’s pressure influence me (money, recognition, awards, etc.). That time of my life is over, and I’m happier for it.

I’ve tried to adopt the motto, “Awe, humility, and gratitude in every day.” That’s what I want to pursue and have in my life.

I really appreciate the kindness of the people I’ve known over the years. I’m honored to have met so many wonderful human beings. I have wonderful memories of good times and great people. I’m forever grateful for that. So, whether you like what I’m doing now or not, it’s okay. We’re still good. You’ll never offend or hurt me if you don’t like or agree with what I do. We’re individual human beings and have different tastes and ideas about life and reality. I get it. I want to encourage you to find something that truly brings you joy. In Beckerian terms, “meaning and significance.” That’s all that really matters. You need no one’s approval or “likes” for what you find enjoyable and meaningful. Just do it.

Existential Dread No. 8

“Existential Dread No. 8,” 8” x 10” acrylic and charcoal on paper.

“Existential Dread No. 8,” 8” x 10” acrylic and charcoal on paper.

“Existential Dread No. 8,” 8” x 10” acrylic and charcoal on paper.

Two Fish No. 3

I’m making a few paintings about fish (as you can see). I like the form and the symbol. As well as the variation you can get when painting these (as ideas for existential anxiety). Have you ever heard of ichthyophobia? The fear of fish—both dead and alive. The topic of fear interests me because it all relates to the fear of death.

Is it Something or About Something?

“Fish Bones No. 1,” 6” x 6” (15 x 15 cm) Oil

Is it something, about something, or both? I’ve been trying to get my arms around avoiding the literal. It’s a difficult habit to break. Coming from photography, where everything is literal (even if it’s abstract), painting offers you a lot of freedom. Sometimes, that freedom causes you to freeze—it creates a barrier to making work that is less literal.

I have so many ideas that I want to paint; I’m just trying to find my way in with a blend of styles—impressionism and post-impressionism. Those are the movements that are most attractive to me. I would add some abstract impressionism in there too. These paintings I’m making will always be centered on Becker’s theories and terror management theory, but in a very non-literal way. Sometimes the content will be non-literal, and sometimes the ideas will be less than literal. It’s more of a personal journey than any kind of commercial process.

I said in my last post that I’m reading Rick Rubin every morning—early in the morning—and he’s been driving me to new places and trying new things. It’s liberating. He said, “Look for what you notice but no one else sees.” (Rick Rubin, The Creative Act: A Way of Being) That resonates with me deeply. I would say that is the core of my work (In the Shadow of Sun Mountain). I’m not sure that no one else notices, but the idea is to get away from the obvious, the literal, and the commonplace. I get it, and I agree.

“In terms of priority, inspiration comes first. You come next. The audience comes last.”

— (Rick Rubin, The Creative Act: A Way of Being

As I find my way through this iteration of the project, I do find my biggest obstacle to be literalism. I’m working to break the chains of photography and literalism and find my way to most representational work, even abstract in some sense. It’s a fun journey, and I encourage you to remember that you’re the creator of your work; you’re the one that needs to be happy with it. Another Rubin quote from his book is, “In terms of priority, inspiration comes first. You come next. The audience comes last.“ (Rick Rubin, The Creative Act: A Way of Being).

“Existential Dread No. 5,” 6” x 6” (15 x 15cm) Oil