Exterminate All The Brutes

“You already know enough. So do I. It is not knowledge we lack. What is missing is the courage to understand what we know and to draw conclusions.”
― Sven Lindqvist, "Exterminate All the Brutes": One Man's Odyssey into the Heart of Darkness and the Origins of European Genocide

Have you seen the four-part series from Raul Peck called “Exterminate All The Brutes”? It’s based in large part on Sven Lindqvist’s book of the same name. And Lindqvist based his book on Joseph Conrad’s book, “Heart of Darkness.” Francis Ford Coppola’s film, “Apocalypse Now,” was based on Conrad’s book, too. Whew! That’s quite a lineage! There is very powerful content in all of it!

I highly recommend reading both Conrad’s book and Lindqvist’s book. They deal with the genocide in Africa (committed by the Europeans)—colonial genocide. Conrad’s story is about what happened in the Congo, and Lindqvist’s book gets at the root of the genocide in Africa as a whole. It’s a modern-day diary or travelogue in a way too. And definitely check out Peck’s piece on HBO. It’s an amazing 4-hour series. It’s so well-made, accurate, and very moving that I think it should be mandatory viewing for every American and European. I recommended it last year on my YouTube show. I used to do recommended reading and recommended watching every week. Doing that kept me in the books and films. I found some really great material.

My work has always confronted and questioned how marginalized communities are treated. This is not new territory for me, but the information that I’ve been studying over the past few years has really taken it to a new and solid place. Ernest Becker and Sheldon Solomon have given me a new set of tools to work with. These resources, among many others, have informed and supported my work in big ways. For many years, I’ve wrestled with the real history of America and Europe—the places of my heritage—and how we treat (and have treated) “the other.”

I lived in Germany for five years and tried my best to come to terms with what happened there by making photographs. I studied, traveled, and explored everything I could that was related to that history. I ended up making a body of work called “Vergangenheitsbewältigung.” Unfortunately, I never got to address the core reasons for what happened there. If I could go back now, I would be able to square that circle of confusion. For the most part, I would be able to answer that question today with quite a bit of confidence.

Now, I live on the land of the Ute/Tabeguache and am trying to do the same thing, but armed with powerful and enlightening information. The information I’m in possession of now is based on empirical evidence—it’s the best answer we have to this enormous problem. It’s a good feeling. And it empowers me and drives the work in a certain direction—in an authentic direction—that motivates me to share these ideas with my brothers and sisters of the world. That’s very important to me and one of the main reasons the work is being done. I’m more concerned with the viewer understanding the theories than liking the photographs, Both would be ideal, but the theory is far more important than the pictures.

I have a lot of life experience that lends itself to expressing ideas in a certain way. I’m not quite sixty years old yet, but I can see why they say you make your best work at this stage of your life. I get it. There seems to be an opening or willingness here that I’ve never really experienced before. There’s also a certain sense of maturity in the relationship to the photographs, or making the photographs. There’s an unrestrained passion to make work that is interesting and powerful in your eyes, regardless of what anyone else thinks. Like life itself, there’s a beautiful freedom that I’ve never fully experienced before. I’m very grateful for it.

Currently, I’m writing an introduction for my book and working on some essays for it. I’ve completed my artist’s statement and have about 15 essays so far to include in the book. I feel good about the direction this is going.

It’s winter here in the Rocky Mountains now. My book project gives me plenty to work on when the snow flies and it’s cold out. We do get nice sunny days quite often, so I’ll continue to make pictures and prints, but it will be less often and not in any quantity. I had a great year working on this project. It was everything and more than I expected. If I get another year like this, I’ll have something exciting to work with. I’m in no hurry to finish. In fact, I only give myself general guidelines and no real timeline. I think I’ll finish next year, but who knows?

The Yarrow plant gone to seed-a photogenic drawing.

A medicinal plant gone to seed—a print from the vellum negative on salted paper.

Homo Mortalis And The Fourth Turning

“Art is essentially the affirmation, the blessing, the deification of existence.” - Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power, 1901

There are some very interesting philosophies in our world today concerning the way we live and the cycles we go through as human beings. I want to address two of them in this essay.

HOMO MORTALIS (MORTAL MAN)
The first is from the book, “The Worm At The Core: The Role Of Death In Life,” by Jeff Greenberg, Tom Pyszczynski, and Sheldon Solomon. If you’ve read other essays that I’ve posted, I’m sure you recognize the reference.

They have suggested that the foreknowledge of our own death may be what most widely separates us from other mammals. Perhaps we might even be more aptly called Homo mortalis rather than Homo sapiens. They write, “There is now compelling evidence that, as William James suggested a century ago, death is indeed the worm at the core of the human condition. The awareness that we humans will die has a profound and pervasive effect on our thoughts, feelings, and behaviors in almost every domain of human life—whether we are conscious of it or not.”

It’s a transformative and fascinating theory. It’s based on robust and groundbreaking experimental research, and it reveals how our unconscious fear of death powers almost everything we do, shining a light on the hidden motives that drive human behavior. More than one hundred years ago, the American philosopher William James dubbed the knowledge that we must die "the worm at the core" of the human condition. In 1974, cultural anthropologist Ernest Becker won the Pulitzer Prize for his book The Denial of Death, arguing that the terror of death has a pervasive effect on human affairs. Sheldon Solomon, Jeff Greenberg, and Tom Pyszczynski clarify these theories with wide-ranging evidence of the many ways the worm at the core guides our thoughts and actions, from the great art we create to the devastating wars we wage.

The Worm at the Core is the product of twenty-five years of in-depth research. Drawing from innovative experiments conducted around the globe, Solomon, Greenberg, and Pyszczynski show conclusively that the fear of death and the desire to transcend it inspire us to buy expensive cars, crave fame, put our health at risk, and disguise our animal nature. The fear of death can also prompt judges to dole out harsher punishments, make children react negatively to people different from themselves, and inflame intolerance and violence.

But the worm at the core need not consume us. Emerging from their research is a unique and compelling approach to these deeply existential issues: terror management theory. TMT proposes that human culture infuses our lives with order, stability, significance, and purpose, and these anchors enable us to function from moment to moment without becoming overwhelmed by the knowledge of our ultimate fate. (edited/Goodreads)

I’ll write more about Terror Management Theory (TMT) in the future. It does provide some insight into managing death anxiety. Becker clearly laid out these ideas; the worm at the core details them and provides empirical evidence for them.

THE FOURTH TURNING (THE ‘CRISIS’ PHASE)
It may have been better to separate these essays into two parts. As I was thinking about writing these, I realized that they are connected in so many ways that I felt compelled to join them in one essay. I think you’ll see what I mean.

The authors, William Strauss and Neil Howe, wrote a book in 1997 called, “The Fourth Turning; An American Prophecy—What the Cycles of History Tell Us About America’s Next Rendezvous with Destiny".

Looking back to the dawn of the modern world, The Fourth Turning reveals a distinct pattern in human history—cycles lasting about the length of a long human life, about 80-90 years. Each cycle is composed of four “turnings,” and each turning lasts the span of a generation (about 20 years). There are four kinds of turnings: High, Awakening, Unraveling, and Crisis, and they always occur in the same order. (from The Fourth Turning site).

In a nutshell, this book is about how the cycles of history (at least in American history) repeat themselves about every 80–90 years. There are “turnings” about every 20–25 years—four of them in each cycle. If you start with the American Revolution (1775), then the American Civil War (1861), The Great Depression, and World War 2 (1942), that leaves you sitting here in 2022, in the middle of the “crisis” era. These are all about 80-90 years apart. According to Howe, this crisis period will last until about 2030. After that, we’ll gradually enter a “high” period again. These “turnings” are like the seasons; spring, summer, autumn, and winter. We’re in the winter phase.

This is a fascinating concept, and our history tends to show its validity. There are some difficult turnings within the overall cycle. It seems we’re in one of those today. In fact, I would argue that we are. The good news is that in times of "crisis,” turning, historically, we’ve done some incredible things. The social security programs were all created in the 1930s—the depression era—as well as the American Civil War, which brought us the establishment of public education. There are some good things that come from it. There are also some very terrible things that come from these turnings.

In my opinion, death anxiety and these turnings are directly related. They sit together well. In fact, I would say they complement one another if I could use that term. Think of it as individuals acting out, or on, our immortality projects, and collectively, acting out, or on, the turnings in the generation we belong to; i.e., Boomers, Gen X, Millenials, etc. This makes a lot of sense to me. I can clearly see the death denial theories tying into the cycles of history. They provide different types of immortality projects for people of different generations and times, but it still comes back to the fact that death anxiety motivates these desires.

I would recommend reading the book or even watching some YouTube videos on the topic. It will really give you something to think about. It’s not religious prophecy or prophets, or anything like that. It’s based on the history of this country and the patterns that stand out. Almost undeniable. If this is, in fact, correct, we’re in for some rough waters ahead as a country and people. Forewarned is forearmed.

"Fourth turnings almost always end in total war." Neil Howe

Western Goat’s Beard - a photogenic drawing - No. 2

Western Goat’s Beard - a Palladiotype print from a wet collodion negative.

The Birth and Death of Meaning & Photogenic Drawings

AMARANTHUS RETROFLEXUS (PIGWEED)—a Kallitype print from a wet collodion negative.

THE BIRTH AND DEATH OF MEANING
Ernest Becker was a cultural anthropologist. He's best known for his death-centric perspective on human psychology. He’s also known for eliciting the creation of the Terror Management Theory (TMT). He died in 1974.

He wrote several books in his lifetime. “The Denial of Death” was the first book of his I read. In this book, Becker builds on the works of Søren Kierkegaard, Sigmund Freud, Norman O. Brown, and Otto Rank to discuss the psychological and philosophical implications of how people and cultures have reacted to the concept of death.

The three most potent books for me are “The Denial of Death” (Pulitzer Prize 1974), “The Birth and Death of Meaning,” and “Escape from Evil.” Together, they provide insight into human behavior that changed my view of what it means to live and the meaning of, and in, life. These theories have also answered profound questions about my pursuit of making art. I always tell people that these books are life-altering. And that’s not an exaggeration. As they say, once you leave the cave, you can never go back in.

MEANING. SIGNIFICANCE. TRANSCENDENCE.
In chapter nine of his book, “The Birth and Death of Meaning,” Becker talks about self-esteem. I’m willing to bet that your definition of self-esteem is not how Becker defines it.

THE NATURE AND FUNCTION OF SELF-ESTEEM
William James wrote about self-esteem in the late 19th century. He said that self-esteem is based on two elements: our actual achievements and our aspirations. Becker was well aware of his theories and took them a step further. Why is it that human beings need to feel good about themselves? According to Becker, self-esteem is a death anxiety buffer. What are the sources of self-esteem? Primarily, we get our self-esteem from our culture. Becker calls it our “cultural worldview.” A good culture will have many different ways that a person can find their self-esteem. Cultures that don’t provide opportunities for self-esteem have major problems. People will suffer from depression, anxiety, and all kinds of mental health problems.

WHY HAVE PEOPLE HISTORICALLY BEEN UNABLE TO GET ALONG WITH PEOPLE WHO ARE DIFFERENT FROM THEM?
This is the second question Becker seemed preoccupied with. He talks about colonizers using methods to strip culture from native or indigenous people. Once they lose their self-esteem, they are easy to dominate. These are methods used by all colonizers. Everyone needs culture to provide them with self-esteem or ways to acquire self-esteem. If that is removed, the people will have a hard time not assimilating to the colonizers’ ways.

I’ll do an essay on the book. “The Worm at the Core: The Role of Death in Life,” but wanted to share this excerpt about self-esteem. “If there were any doubt that self-esteem is the dominant [human] motive... there would be one sure way to dispel it,” Ernest Becker wrote, “and that would be by showing that when people do not have self-esteem they cannot act, they break down.” What makes it difficult to acquire and maintain self-esteem? And what happens when self-esteem is lacking?

There are two main ways self-esteem can break down. First, individuals, or groups of people, can lose faith in their cultural worldviews. Such disillusionment can be precipitated by economic upheaval, technological and scientific innovations, environmental catastrophes, wars, plagues, or unwelcome intrusions by other cultures. For example, before the arrival of the first Europeans, the Yup’ik people of Alaska belonged to a thriving culture ruled by deep customs, traditions, and spiritual beliefs. Their tribal and individual codes of conduct were defined by what they called the Yuuyaraq (“the way of being a human being”), which told each member how to behave in any situation. When the Europeans—carrying guns, germs, and steel that killed a majority of the population—imposed their Christian worldviews on the Yup’ik, the aboriginal people lost their identity. The medicine men grew ill and died, and with them the ancient spirit of the Eskimo and the code of Yuuyaraq. Everything the Yup’ik had believed in failed, and their whole world collapsed.

Such catastrophes occurred all over the world where indigenous cultures were subject to colonization. But other circumstances can erode faith in a cultural belief system as well. Even the United States may be in the midst of such erosion in the wake of economic uncertainty, church and sports scandals, and political polarization. As of this writing, seven in ten Americans believe that the country is on the wrong track; eight in ten don’t agree with the way the nation is being governed. Church attendance, even in as strongly religious a country as the United States, has steadily declined. Public schools, particularly in urban areas, are in disarray. “We have lost our gods,” Laura Hansen, a sociologist at Western New England University, told reporters for The Atlantic. “We lost [faith] in the media: Remember Walter Cronkite? We lost it in our culture: You can’t point to a movie star who might inspire us, because we know too much about them. We lost it in politics because we know too much about their lives. We’ve lost it—that basic sense of trust and confidence—in everything.”

When people lose confidence in their core beliefs, they become literally “dis-illusioned” because they lack a functional blueprint of reality. Without such a map, there is no basis for determining what behaviors are appropriate or desirable, leaving no way to plot a course to self-esteem. (The Worm at the Core: The Role of Death in Life: Page 44-45)

Medicinal plant—a photogenic drawing. Teller County, Colorado

The Great Mullein (leaf)—a photogenic drawing. Teller County, Colorado

Meadow Barley—a photogenic drawing. Teller County, Colorado

“Meadow Barley”—a Palladiotype print from a wet collodion negative.

BLUE GRAMA GRASS—a photogenic drawing. (the glass on the contact printing frame broke during the exposure, hence the “lines”)

It can be ground into a powder, mixed with water, and eaten as a mush, often with corn meal. It is also used to make bread. It is also an important food for mule deer, elk, and bison, all of which the Ute/Tabeguache hunted and relied on for food, shelter, and tools.

Blue Grama Grass—a Palladiotype print from a wet collodion negative.

Fringed Sage—a photogenic drawing. Teller County, Colorado

Fringed Sage (detail)—a photogenic drawing. Teller County, Colorado

Fringed Sage - Palldiotype

The Imperfect In Art: The Pinnacle of Beauty & Meaning

“What art is, in reality, is the missing link, not the links which exist. It’s not what you see that is art; art is the gap.” -Marcel Duchamp, 1975

I know this is probably an old and tired topic for some of you. Hang with me for a minute. I’d like to try and add something new to this philosophy as it applies to art and photography.

Almost everyone in the art world has heard of the Japanese word (or is it words?) wabi-sabi. It’s most commonly used as a platitude for justifying bad art. That’s not what it means. It has a deeper, richer, and more enlightening purpose. And I believe it’s directly connected to the denial of death and death anxiety.

Wabi-sabi is a worldview that is centered on the acceptance of transience and imperfection. In fact, it finds the pinnacle of beauty and meaning in both. I see this philosophy as a death anxiety buffer. And it’s a very good one to employ in your life and art. Thinking deeply about our animality and our imperfection will allow us to come to terms with our fate. Albert Camus said, “There is only one liberty, to come to terms with death; thereafter, anything is possible.” I believe this is at the core of the Wabi-sabi philosophy.

The philosophy consists of these ideas: nothing is permanent, nothing is perfect, and nothing is complete. Sit with those for a minute. Allow them to seep in. If you live in the digital photography world today, or even the film world, you are bombarded with technology to make your photographs better, even perfect. As humans, we strive for perfection, which is never attainable. We want sharp focus, clean surfaces, amazing composition, and flawless light. We even want big, huge prints (physical). Everything we’ve learned about what’s important in photography is based on concepts that are exactly the opposite of wabi-sabi. That in and of itself should speak volumes to us.

“Plate #121, Bullet Holes & Feathers”-Whole Plate Palladiotype from a wet collodion negative.

As I said in the second paragraph of this essay, I believe we do this because of our denial of death. I can easily argue for that position. The desire for perfection staves off the anxiety of impermanence. We find comfort in the perceived permanence of our (archival) images. We symbolically live beyond our physical selves. Perceived perfection is achieved by the use of technology to meet cultural expectations for what the world wants, like size, sharpness, etc. And finally, completeness. Answering all of the questions both visually and philosophically as we understand them from our cultural worldview requires a kind of certitude that doesn’t really exist. We literally fool ourselves, albeit unconsciously, about what we’re doing and why. The point of all of this is to build self-esteem (to find meaning and significance in our culture), which in turn, quells our anxiety about our mortality.

Let’s talk about content as it applies to the denial of death. Have you ever seen portraits of young naked women? Have you seen luxurious scenes of wealth and affluence? Perfect prints of El Capitan or Yosemite Park? A beautiful, perfect rose or flower? Any image that shows perfection, youth, power, and strength can be directly connected to Ernest Becker’s theories on the human condition and is in direct opposition to the philosophy of wabi-sabi.

These images exist and are “popular” because they shield us from death anxiety. When I post a picture of a dying plant, a blurry portrait of a horse with poor composition, or a landscape where genocide occurred, it gives the viewer pause. The reason for this is that this kind of content acts as a death reminder; it unconsciously raises the dander (if you will) in the viewer and reminds them of their mortality. Their death anxiety is moved from a shielded place, safely out of range, to the forefront of their (subconscious) minds. And they may not even be aware of it.

I might argue that these kinds of images are not beautiful, they’re not ideal, and they’re not made to celebrate life. They are made to mask what is real. They’re made to make us hide behind an illusion that we’ll live forever, that death has no hold or power over us. They’re fake and fraudulent in the most direct ways.

Does all of this mean that you should break all of the “rules” in photography? Yes, it does. Or at least try to refrain from them having such a grip on you that you can never make pictures that are “good” enough. Allow the viewer to feel the work as much as they see it. I would recommend being open to imperfections that support your narrative. After all, they represent your own human imperfections. There is beauty in that. We resist and unconsciously dislike anything that represents our animality. Becker called us “gods with anuses." What an accurate description of how we think and what we deny.

“White Horse-Teller County, Colorado”-Whole Plate toned Cyanotype from a Calotype (paper negative).

In "Escape from Evil," Becker said, “Man is an animal who has to live in a lie in order to live at all.” He goes on to say in his book, “The Denial of Death,” “The real world is simply too terrible to admit. It tells man that he is a small trembling animal who will someday decay and die. Culture changes all of this, makes man seem important and vital to the universe. immortal in some ways.” And finally, "The idea of death, the fear of it, haunts the human animal like nothing else; it is a mainspring of human activity—designed largely to avoid the fatality of death, to overcome it by denying in some way that it is the final destiny of man."

This is a difficult concept to process, let alone be aware of—it feels counterintuitive, or maybe even that it’s not applicable to you. Yet it is very true as you come to realize how these ideas sit together in the reality of your life, and they are all applicable to every human being.

If we step back and objectively look at how we live, what we think, and how we behave (see Socrates and self-examination), we’ll quickly realize that we have a distorted view of life and living. If we pick bad illusions or immortality projects, we can end up doing a lot of damage to humanity. However, if we try to come to terms with our death (see Camus quote above) and our imperfections, even celebrate them in our art and life, I think we’ll have a better, or healthier (psychologically speaking), view of our life and our death. In the end, we’ll make better art, and moreover, we’ll have empathy and compassion for others’ imperfections; think wabi-sabi and find beauty and meaning in the imperfect. After all, that’s who we are.

Qualia & Art: My Definition

QUALIA - “THE MOLYNEUX PROBLEM”
What defines art as art is the ongoing question we wrestle with. How do people react to it, and why do they react in the manner that they do? What senses do they use to experience art? What are they inwardly processing and projecting onto the artwork? Finally, what can, or can’t, they perceive? These are significant and ambiguous questions. Some of these queries can be answered to some extent by the theory of qualia. And if you research this concept, you might be able to potentially apply it to your work. At least in some indirect way.

The first time I heard about qualia was in a story about a girl called Molly. She was born blind. She never saw a shape or color in her life. For years, she carried around a die and a marble. She thought they brought her good luck. When she was older, the doctors performed corneal lens surgery, and she was able to see.

The die and marble were placed before her, and she wasn’t able to identify either one. She had never seen these objects before; she only had the internal experience of feeling and touching them. It sounds strange that the shapes weren’t obvious to her; she had carried these objects for years. If you are sighted, you would have never experienced this phenomenon. It shows that what we perceive internally versus externally can be very different. This is the age-old question of qualia and how we know what we know.

Qualia: n. ( sing. quale) 1. characteristics or qualities that determine the nature of a mental experience (sensation or perception) and make it distinguishable from other such experiences, so that, for example, the experiencer differentiates between the sensations of heat and cold.

Plate #124 - “Ute Lodge” whole-plate wet collodion negative.

Qualia are the subjective or qualitative properties of experiences. What it feels like, experientially, to see a red rose is different from what it feels like to see a yellow rose. Likewise, hearing a musical note played by a piano and hearing the same musical note played by a tuba. The qualia of these experiences are what give each of them their characteristic “feel” and also what distinguishes them from one another. Qualia have traditionally been thought to be intrinsic qualities of experience that are directly available to introspection. However, some philosophers offer theories of qualia that deny one or both of those features. (Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy)

This is a very interesting topic as it relates to art and photography specifically. As I said above, the question we’re always asking is what makes art, Art? How do people respond to it and why do they respond a certain way? Qualia can start to answer some of these questions. And, if you study these ideas, you may be able to incorporate them into your practice, at least theoretically.

What is the qualia argument?
It rests on the idea that someone who has complete physical knowledge about another conscious being might yet lack knowledge about how it feels to have the experiences of that being. It is one of the most discussed arguments against physicalism.

Qualia as phenomenal character. Consider your visual experience as you stare at a bright turquoise color patch in a paint store. There is something it is like for you subjectively to undergo that experience. What it is like to undergo the experience is very different from what it is like for you to experience a dull brown color patch. This difference is a difference in what is often called ‘phenomenal character’. The phenomenal character of an experience is what it is like subjectively to undergo the experience. If you are told to focus your attention upon the phenomenal character of your experience, you will find that in doing so you are aware of certain qualities. These qualities—ones that are accessible to you when you introspect and that together make up the phenomenal character of the experience are sometimes called ‘qualia’. C.S. Peirce seems to have had something like this in mind when he introduced the term ‘quale’ into philosophy in 1866 (1866/1982, para 223). From the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy.

INTROSPECTION
Introspection is the process by which someone comes to form beliefs about their own mental states. We might form the belief that someone else is happy on the basis of perception—for example, by perceiving their behavior. But a person typically does not have to observe their own behavior in order to determine whether they are happy. Rather, one makes this determination by introspecting.

When compared to other beliefs that we have, the beliefs that we acquire through introspection seem epistemically special. Though the term “introspection” literally means “looking within” (from the Latin “spicere” meaning “to look” and “intra” meaning “within”), whether introspecting should be treated analogously to looking – that is, whether introspection is a form of inner perception – is debatable. Philosophers have offered both observational and non-observational accounts of introspection. Following the discussion of these various issues about the epistemology and nature of introspection, the third section of this essay addresses an important use to which introspection has been put in philosophical discussions, namely, to draw metaphysical conclusions about the nature of mind. (IEP)

APPLYING QUALIA TO ART (PHOTOGRAPHY) - TRANSCENDENT ART
What does this all mean in terms of looking at and experiencing photographs? This is where words really do fall short. You can’t write about something like this very well. It’s a very personal, intimate experience that you “feel” more than you see.

Think of the feeling of love or the private pleasure of watching a sunset as examples of qualia that make their way into the domain of our conscious awareness. We try to describe them even if we can't. When words fail us, we turn to making photographs and prints, painting, sculpting, creating musical compositions, and a variety of other artistic mediums to express ourselves.

So, the preservation of the artist's own qualia must come first in their artistic endeavors. Inspiration comes suddenly and transcends time and space. It must be honored and kept in order for the location of its origin to be visited in the future, even if it will never happen again. I try to keep qualia at the forefront of my mind when exploring ideas for an image. I try to stay conscious of when I experience this and then act on it as quickly as possible. In the end, I know I only share a shadow of the qualia I experienced, but, to some extent, it is preserved in the images that I make. It is, in fact, second-hand qualia. That’s all it can ever be.

It’s up for debate whether or not some qualia ought to be retained. The question of whether art is successful or "good" is unaffected by whether it is enjoyable or unpleasant to experience. For instance, all it takes is a quick glance at one of Vincent Van Gogh's self-portraits for someone to feel what it feels like to be so depressed that they amputate their own ear.

Immortalize your qualia, that’s the goal. Transcended art is what qualia refers to-getting the closest we can to the most intimate experience in creating art and showing it the best way we know how. That’s the definition of qualia to me.

Plate #124 - “Ute Lodge” whole-plate toned cyanotype from a wet collodion negative.

Plate #121 - In the Shadow of Sun Mountain

Morning walks with Jeanne get me to reflect on topics I've been reading about and researching concerning my project. I always come across things that make me think or motivate me. The cool mountain air and the beauty of the changing seasons are lovely; it’s a great environment to meditate on what I’m trying to do. If there’s something that really hits me hard, when I get home, I’ll head to the darkroom and begin the process of making a photograph. Today was one of those days.

It works well on some days and not so well on others. Regardless, I enjoy the entire creative process. It's challenging trying to make visuals that support the concepts or ideas I have in my head and heart. Symbolism is my staple for this work. Yes, the content is "real" and represents what it is, but my desire is to take it to a deeper conceptual level. We’re symbolic in so many ways, and we create lives that symbolize something they’re not. I’m fascinated and intrigued by these kinds of ideas.

I love the painterly quality and color of the cyanotype (below). I’m going to explore some other organic compounds to tone these prints. I used tannic acid and gallic acid on this one. A lot of people don’t like how the tannic acid stains the paper. I like it. It adds a sense of age to the print. It feels like something else—and it kind of transcends photography.

Plate #121-Whole plate toned cyanotype from a wet collodion negative.

Homo aestheticus: where art comes from and why.
All human societies throughout history have given a special place to the arts. Even nomadic peoples who own scarcely any material possessions embellish what they do own, decorate their bodies, and celebrate special occasions with music, song, and dance. A fundamentally human appetite or need is being expressed—and met—by artistic activity. As Ellen Dissanayake argues in this stimulating and intellectually far-ranging book, only by discovering the natural origins of this human need of art will we truly know what art is, what it means, and what its future might be. Describing visual display, poetic language, song and dance, music, and dramatic performance as ways by which humans have universally, necessarily, and immemorially shaped and enhanced the things they care about, Dissanayake shows that aesthetic perception is not something that we learn or acquire for its own sake but is inherent in the reconciliation of culture and nature that has marked our evolution as humans. What "artists" do is an intensification and exaggeration of what "ordinary people" do, naturally and with enjoyment—as is evident in premodern societies, where artmaking is universally practiced. Dissanayake insists that aesthetic experience cannot be properly understood apart from the psychobiology of sense, feeling, and cognition--the ways we spontaneously and commonly think and behave. If homo aestheticus seems unrecognizable in today's modern and postmodern societies, it is so because "art" has been falsely set apart from life, while the reductive imperatives of an acquisitive and efficiency-oriented culture require us to ignore or devalue the aesthetic part of our nature. Dissanayake's original and provocative approach will stimulate new thinking in the current controversies regarding multicultural curricula and the role of art in education. Her ideas also have relevance to contemporary art and social theory and will be of interest to all who care strongly about the arts and their place in human, and humane, life.
Source: Publisher
Dissanayake, E. (1992). Homo aestheticus: where art comes from and why. New York: Free Press.

Helenium Autumnale

I would like to recommend two books for you to read. The first one is called “Homo Aestheticus” by Ellen Dissanayake. And the second one is called “The Singing Neanderthals: The Origins of Music, Language, Mind, and Body,” by Steven Mithen.

Homo Aestheticus
“Dissanayake argues that art was central to human evolutionary adaptation and that the aesthetic faculty is a basic psychological component of every human being. In her view, art is intimately linked to the origins of religious practices and to ceremonies of birth, death, transition, and transcendence. Drawing on her years in Sri Lanka, Nigeria, and Papua New Guinea, she gives examples of painting, song, dance, and drama as behaviors that enable participants to grasp and reinforce what is important to their cognitive world.”
—Publishers Weekly

“Homo Aestheticus offers a wealth of original and critical thinking. It will inform and irritate specialist, student, and lay reader alike.”—American AnthropologistA thoughtful, elegant, and provocative analysis of aesthetic behavior in the development of our species—one that acknowledges its roots in the work of prior thinkers while opening new vistas for those yet to come. If you’re reading just one book on art anthropology this year, make it hers.”
—Anthropology and Humanism

The Singing Neanderthals: The Origins of Music, Language, Mind, and Body
“Mithen has many fascinating suggestions about how the circumstances of early hominid life on the African savanna may have provoked changes in anatomy and improved the range and precision of communication… By bringing music to the fore, Mithen remedies earlier neglect and offers his readers the most perspicacious portrait of the role of communication among our remote predecessors that I have ever encountered. That is a great accomplishment… Mithen’s book, in short, seems destined to become a landmark in the way experts and amateurs alike seek to understand the character and evolutionary importance of hominid and early human communication… [The Singing Neanderthals] offers a learned, imaginative overview of the most important and most elusive dimension of the real but unrecorded past: i.e., how communication among our predecessors changed their lives, sustained their communities, and promoted their survival. No one has previously undertaken that task so well.”
—William H. McNeill, The New York Review of Books

Stone Stacking: What Does It Mean?

Native Americans used stacks of rocks to mark water, food sources, land boundaries, or other significant places, like where a battle occurred or to mark a hunting location.

Stone mounds were sometimes erected as monuments to mark a burial site or as memorials. Stone stacking has carried spiritual meaning for centuries. The act of balancing stones carries with it a practice of patience and a physical effort to create balance. Each rock can signify an intention of grace, humility, and thankfulness.

“Calotype #14-Stacking Stones”-Whole Plate Calotype (paper negative).

At The Core Of My New Project: Death Anxiety

Have you ever wondered what makes us (humans) act the way we do? Why are we always looking to blame our difficulties and problems on someone else? What makes human beings racist? Or why do some think of themselves as superior or better than others? What drives people to commit murder and genocide? These are some of the big questions I’ve wrestled with most of my life. And this, at its core, is what my project, "In the Shadow of Sun Mountain," is about.

Over the past 30 years, I’ve made portraits of people from marginalized communities. I’ve asked questions about why we treat people that look different, have a different lifestyle, or believe something different than we do with contempt and distrust. If you read my statement from the work called "Portraits From Madison Avenue," you’ll connect the dots of why and how this started with me.

While I’m not a cultural anthropologist, I really connect with the kinds of questions they ask about human behavior. In a lot of ways, these questions have driven me to use a camera and become an artist. It’s the only way I know how to address these massive, unanswerable questions about our existence and our behavior.

So what is this work about? It’s very important to me that I communicate the details of this work explicitly (the ideas, not the images). I want to make sure the viewer is aware that this is not a documentary project about Native Americans. This project is about how the denial of death or death anxiety influences and drives human behavior. Every human being struggles with it. The theory of death anxiety is responsible for the genocide against the Native Americans.

These ideas are based on Ernest Becker's books "The Denial of Death," "The Birth and Death of Meaning," and "Escape From Evil." I’ve studied his theories for a few years now and have been heavily influenced by them. This is the first work that I’ve made where I directly address it and place the imagery into the theories. I’ve also been reading Sheldon Solomon’s work on Terror Management Theory (TMT) for some time. He co-wrote the book, "The Worm At The Core: The Role Of Death In Life." I had him as a guest on my YouTube show last year. I encourage you to watch it if you haven’t. These are the ideas that are driving this project.

Why is this important? To me, this work transcends photography. It's photography, but it’s not about photography. The photographs act as a catalyst to communicate ideas, questions, theories, and beliefs. And yes, the images are made where some of these terrible events took place. And there are images in the project about what the Ute/Tabeguache used; medicinal plants, for example, or the symbols they embraced. It’s not that the content is irrelevant, not at all; it’s just that the ideas are much bigger than the photographs. For me, this is what art really is-it provides a framework for a larger understanding of something or it can encourage thinking and questioning about the "big questions”. Things that all of us struggle with.

I would encourage you to delve into these theories and learn about them—really understand them. There’s a great set of videos on YouTube called "Conversations With Solomon." If you have any interest at all, you should watch them—there are six videos in the series. And, if you’re a reader, check out the books I mentioned earlier in this post. These are truly life-changing ideas. Becker’s wish was that everyone was aware of these theories. He believed that if you knew what made you think about "that person" or "those people" (“us” versus “them”) the way that you do, you would have a chance to think rather than just feel, an awareness that could change the dynamics of human behavior.

The Prickly Pear Cactus Print - Another Negative

It’s amazing to me how a very slight change in light can completely transform an image. This is the first cactus plate from the other day. I decided to print it and (slightly) gold-tone it. It’s interesting in its own respect. The needles look like starbursts and the deep rich black of the palladium print goes on forever.

Just a different take on the same object. I changed the light a bit and created something completely different. Collodion always has its own story to tell. The color shifts, the tonal shifts, and it responds very differently to the changing light throughout the day. It’s a joy and challenge to work in - I love it. Can you tell?

Also, I turned the comments on for my blog. Feel free to comment here if you’d like. I would enjoy hearing from you. As long as I don’t get spammed, I’ll open the comments on each post for your feedback or input.