“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.
“Existential Dread No. 8,” 8” x 10” acrylic and charcoal on paper.
“Existential Dread No. 7,” 8” x 10” acrylic and charcoal (mixed media) on paper.
I paint every day. Sometimes, I’m able to make two or even three paintings a day. Mostly, I do “warm up” paintings: ideas for possibly larger pieces in the future. These “paint sketches” are really important for me. They do two things: first, they allow me to apply paint, make marks, and give me ideas for larger pieces (as I said). Secondly, I get better with each painting. With every painting I make, I learn something. One thing I’ve realized (probably from making photographs for years) is that I’m too “uptight” and too rigid. I’m slowly learning to reverse this; it’s difficult. In a lot of ways, I’m trying to unlearn what I did in photography. Yes, there are a lot of things that help me because of my knowledge of photography, light, composition, and even color theory. But there are a few things that make painting difficult; one of them is rigidity. I’m learning to loosen up and allow spontaneous and free-flowing movements and experiments to happen. It’s a great feeling.
I turn 60 years old this month. I was thinking about this the other day. It’s a strange feeling in some ways. It seems for the last decade I’ve been revisiting events of my youth, or at least exploring my interests as a younger adult. After my military service, I started a business making free-standing wood-burning stoves and fireplace inserts. I oversaw a shop of four welders and two finish line people. I made good money and enjoyed the work. I built hundreds of stoves myself and was efficient and skilled in metal fabrication. I was also proficient in all kinds of welding, including MIG, TIG, and stick welding, as well as brazing and other minor metal fabrication skills. This came to an end because of environmental issues concerning emissions and laws passed that prevented the sale of the stoves (the late 1980s). I ended up at the university, which, in the end, was a good thing.
A few years ago, I started metal fabrication again. I was doing blacksmithing and bladesmithing work. People asked, “Where did you learn to do this kind of thing?” They seemed to be a bit shocked and puzzled. It wasn’t either for me; it was taking a step back to my younger years and revisiting the skills and knowledge that I spent so much time doing. I’m not sure why I did it—maybe to clear my head and create in a different way. It just felt right and comfortable. I really enjoyed the nostalgia and feelings of shaping steel and working around a hot forge and welder again. It wasn’t foreign or weird to me at all.
That brings me to painting. Again, some people are wondering, "What is this all about?” Well, remember, I did four years at undergraduate school, and I majored in photography, visual art, and communication (with a minor in Spanish). In that emphasis of visual art, I did the introductions to painting, drawing, color theory, art history, etc. I also completed 8 credit hours of “studio art.” I did painting and mixed media, with a lot of photography involved. Along with those courses, I completed two courses in “painting on photographs,” a beginning course and an advanced course. And I also have a graduate degree, an M.F.A.I.A. That’s a master of fine arts in interdisciplinary art. That is self-explanatory, I think. My point is that I have a history of what I’m doing and have been doing. I’m simply revisiting my past and using it to flesh out my new work and project. And I love it. If I take up surfing or paragliding, you’ll know I’m in unfamiliar waters (no pun).
I find it interesting that people tend to want you to stay in the lane they “know you for,” and when you veer from that, it seems a bit apostate to them—some even seem disappointed. If they understood your background and life experiences, they might think differently. In the end, it doesn’t matter. I just thought I would share what I’d been thinking about entering my sixth decade on this pale blue dot. It’s not surprising that I find myself painting or making knives; at least to me, it seems like a kind of natural course of self-exploration. It’s paid off for me both mentally and conceptually. It’s given me more to work with on this project.
Thirty paintings a month. It’s not about the number; it’s not even relevant, really. It’s about commitment, learning, and growing. As I said earlier, I gain so much from each painting I do. I’m trying to be present for the journey. To really be grateful and appreciate each day and each piece of work I make. Ultimately, that’s what’s important to me. Painting, like photography, is something you have to practice to become efficient enough to accomplish what you want to accomplish. In the end, I hope to publish several of my paintings, along with my photographs, in my book to make a complete, cohesive, interdisciplinary work about human behavior and existential terror. That’s my goal.
One more thing. I’ve posted a few times about how beneficial our walks are to me creatively. You might find this article interesting if you subscribe to this theory about walking and creativity. Check it out:
How Walking Fosters Creativity
“The Color Blue and the Number Three,” 8” x 10” acrylic and charcoal on paper.
In some Native American cultures, the color blue represents the sky, water, and the spirit world. It can also symbolize peace, serenity, and spiritual awareness. Blue is often used in ceremonies related to prayer, meditation, and vision quests. In Native American mythology, the number three represents the vertical picture of the world. It represents the space between the Heavens and the Earth.
The Iroquois tribe also expressed the significance of the number three by smoking from a pipe three times. Traditional Native American gardeners have planted the Three Sisters (corn, beans, and squash) in many different regions of North America. Some versions of the Three Sisters legends involve the crops personified as three women who separate from each other only to find out that they are stronger together.
“Existential Dread No. 5,” 8” x 10” acrylic and charcoal on paper.
There is something that I find both intriguing and fascinating about non-objective abstracts. Yesterday, I posted my representational abstract, “The Ballad of Curtis Loew,” based on a song and memory. This is a painting I did today based on an idea from within me—nothing representational or based on anything physical, at least when I started the painting. I’ll let the viewer decide what they see or feel in reference to the title. I have to say, I do love the underpainting on this. It gives the piece a lot of depth. It looks really nice in real life.
In the context of evolution, human existential crises may arise from our heightened cognitive abilities and self-awareness. As humans developed intricate thinking processes and self-reflective capacities, an increased awareness of mortality, the quest for meaning, and contemplation of one's existence became more pronounced. While an existential crisis isn't necessarily a flaw, it can be viewed as a consequence of our advanced cognitive functions. It might function as a mechanism for individuals to scrutinize and assess their position in the world, fostering personal growth and the formulation of coping strategies. In this regard, it can be perceived as a beneficial function that motivates individuals to explore purpose and meaning in their lives.
Ernest Becker said, “What does it mean to be a self-conscious animal? The idea is ludicrous if it is not monstrous. It means to know that one is food for worms. This is the terror: to have emerged from nothing, to have a name, a consciousness of self, deep inner feelings, an excruciating inner yearning for life and self-expression, and with all this yet to die. It seems like a hoax, which is why one type of cultural man rebels openly against the idea of God. What kind of deity would crate such complex and fancy worm food?” (The Denial of Death)
“The Ballad of Curtis Loew,” 8” x 10” acrylic and charcoal. Kind of a grisaille-style painting, minus the alizarin crimson as a focal point.
This painting is based on Lynyrd Skynyrd’s song of the same name. I love music, especially blues, and have been known to bang on my Dobro once in a blue moon. I was painting something else the other day, and this song came onto my playlist, and I looked over at my National Dobro and wanted to make a painting. The song deals with “otherness” and poverty, alcoholism as well as memory. There’s so much to unpack, but I’m moved mostly by the significance of marginalizing human beings, memory, and music. I had some similar experiences as a young boy. This song really resonates with me.
Do you think you’re self-aware? How do you know if you are? Here are a couple of questions you can ask yourself:. Do you understand your strengths and weaknesses? Do you practice empathy? Do you recognize your biases? Do you seek personal growth? Etcetera.
Being self-aware is the first step in understanding both who you are and your position in the world or your culture. And yes, it does feed back to death anxiety and terror management theory. However, part of coming to terms with mortality relies heavily on self-awareness. I often quote Albert Camus; he said, "There is only one liberty: to come to terms with death; thereafter, anything is possible." The only way to do that is through self-awareness.
Have you ever been around a person who isn’t very self-aware? I have, and it’s very frustrating and annoying. When a person isn’t self-aware, you may see egotistical or even narcissistic behavior, as well as a complete disregard for other people’s intelligence or feelings. It’s a painful and disturbing experience. I’m on board for people to “toot their own horn” or share their accomplishments through the avenues where they find meaning and purpose. There’s nothing wrong with that. Where it goes off the rails for me is when they seek to “be better” or even belittle others with these accomplishments. When it becomes a competition, it can get ugly. This is the malignant result of existential dread. It’s nasty stuff. Social media is full of it.
Let’s stay on the positive side of dealing with meaning and self-awareness. Here are some questions you can ask yourself regarding this topic:. They are from a course I just completed about existential anxiety:
What are some accomplishments you have already achieved in your life that you find meaningful?
What goals or ambitions do you have for the rest of your life?
Who are the people who are most important to you in your life?
How do you demonstrate importance to these people in your life?
How do these behaviors, goals, achievements, ambitions, and intentions align with your culture and worldview?
These will help you start the process of both being self-aware and coming to terms with how you buffer death anxiety or existential dread. Which are kind of the same things or at least one leads to the other. This is the process I’ve used to become more self-aware and awaken to memories and meaning in my life. It’s the well-spring where I draw my inspiration and creative life from.
My view from my painting station. I listen to music, make marks and throw paint onto surfaces. A beautiful life.
“Prickly Pear Cactus Flowers and Mullein,” “10'“ x 10” RA-4 Color Reversal Print, and an 8” x 10” acrylic and charcoal on paper painting.
Happy 2024! I hope this year brings you gratitude, humility, and awe. That’s what I try to remind myself of every day. I’m not into “holidays” and conspicuous consumption, but I do wish you a very healthy, happy, and joyful year!
I’m working hard and thinking deeply about what I’m trying to do with this body of work and writing. It’s a process that’s always evolving and changing, as it should. I think I’ve connected some of the ideas that I’m working on to the paintings I’m making and the photographs that I’ve made.
For me, photography falls short in the pursuit of fleshing out these theories and ideas. While it plays an important role in this project, I’m beginning to think it’s going to be used in a very different way than I first intended. In the end, I'm going to try to pair the photographs and paintings as diptychs (roughly speaking). The idea is that one shows the reality that we all subscribe to (the photograph), and the other (the painting) shows a clearer, non-representational, deconstructed reality that we try to bury, psychologically speaking (the denial of death and death anxiety). It’s a wonderful revelation for me and a big step in my work. To say I’m excited would be an understatement.
“Painting is a language, and brush strokes are verbs.”
I’ve been reading about artists like Af Klint, Kandisky, Mondrian, Popova, Malevich, Klee, Rothko (which I like a lot), Pollock, and other abstract painters of the 19th and 20th centuries. And in the 21st century, artists like Paul Tonkin, Albert Irvin, who said, “Painting is a language, and brush strokes are verbs,” and Dan Perfect. Most of the older artists were dealing with theosophy. I don’t personally subscribe to the idea of theosophy, but I can understand why these artists were using it as the basis for their work. I really connect and understand what Rothko said about his “recipe” for a work of art.
“The recipe of a work of art—its ingredients—how to make it—the formula:
There must be a clear preoccupation with death—intimations of mortality.
Tragic art, romantic art, etc., deals with the knowledge of death.
Sensuality. Our basis for being concrete about the world. It is a lustful relationship with things that exist.
Tension. Either conflict or curbed desire.
Irony: This is a modern ingredient—the self-effacement and examination by which a man, for an instant, can go on to something else.
Wit and play... for the human element. The ephemeral and chance... for the human element.
Hope: 10% to make the tragic concept more endurable.
I measure these ingredients very carefully when I paint a picture. It is always the form that follows these elements, and the picture results from the proportions of these elements.”
In the pursuit of making this happen, I’ve been selecting color photographs of the work I’ve made and doing a variety of abstract paintings of them—abstract deconstructions, if you will. I’ll work with the non-color photographs after I establish what I want to do with the color work. The color photographs are much more complicated to translate. I am making progress. Selecting forms, colors, and shading is a difficult task. I never know when the painting is complete. I’m trying to reduce the image to the most basic forms and use color as an expression of the (hidden) reality of the object.
“To see the world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.”
“Existential Crisis No. 1,” 4.5” x 4.5” Acrylic and Charcoal on Paper
I’m slowly honing in on the style of painting I want to pursue for this project. I think I’m leaning toward abstract and non-objective content and a kind of post-impressionist style. What does that mean? I’ll try to explain.
I’ve been exploring different approaches to painting. From color, style, size, content, etc. Just like photography, one process can differ enormously from another. I want the “correct” expression for this work. I’m starting to experiment with making abstract paintings of the RA-4 color work I made. I think that’s a great place to start. If you think abstract painting is easy, think again. It’s actually very difficult. There’s a lot you need to understand: color theory, light, shapes, shadows, etc. Not for the faint of heart (or people who think it’s nonsense).
The difference between “abstract” and “non-objective” or “non-representational” painting is this: Abstract painting is some kind of interpretation of something that exists. In other words, if I paint abstracts of my photographs, they would be some form of representational work. Non-objective or non-representational work is exactly that, it’s not from anything, it’s dealing with color, shape, lines, shades, composition, etc. I really like both styles, and they could play well with this project.
Let’s see how it all unfolds.
“Existential Crisis No. 2,” 4.5” x 4.5” Acrylic and Charcoal on Paper
“Cosmic Pears No. 3,” 7” x 11” Acrylic (bending toward the dark or away from the light)
“Cosmic Pepper No. 3,” 7” x 11” Acrylic
“Spiritual Fish,” 10” x 12” Acrylic
I never get tired of exploring and trying things. Whether it’s photography techniques, painting techniques, or anything else that I find interesting, I’m open to the best way I can express myself and my ideas. This week, I’ve been painting "studies." I’ve been painting how the light shows on balls, fruit, and a pepper. I’ve been playing around with the application of paint, too. I absolutely love post-impressionism, impressionism, and abstract expressionism. I’ve published two paintings where I’ve applied the paint in a “dabbing” fashion. This gives texture to the image and feels close to impressionism. Another area to pay attention to is color theory. Primary colors, complementary colors, split-complementary colors, analogous colors, etc. I’m working on all of this stuff while at the same time working on ideas for my book. Paintings will play a significant role in my book, along with photography.
A study concerning “spotlight” in grayscale.
Pears: a study concerning light - tints, shades, casting shadows etc.
“War Pigs No. 1,” 9” x 9” Oil
We are in winter now, for sure. We’re only about a week away from the winter solstice. The shortest, darkest day of the year (in the northern hemisphere). I’ve found myself painting every day and writing again. It’s a great way to spend my time. I listen to music on my walk and while I’m painting. It’s inspiring and seems to help me work through the ideas I want to explore. As I worked on these paintings and was writing about my military time, Black Sabbath popped up in my playlist. “War Pigs” (1970) started playing, and it was perfect. I made three paintings inspired by that song. I played it a few times.
Winter is a great time for both. Jeanne and I walk every day too, regardless of the weather. Remember the postal carriers' motto? “Neither rain nor snow nor sleet nor hail shall keep the postmen from their appointed rounds.” It’s like that for our walks—we make it happen every day. The walks are important to me for several reasons. The obvious is the physical exercise (heath). But there is a huge mental benefit for me as well. I have time to think. I come up with ideas for either painting, photographing, or writing. It’s very important for me to distract myself (the walk) to be able to make room for the next idea, thought, paragraph, etc. to come to me.
My book has turned into an autobiography in a lot of ways, at least in the introduction. It’s swelled into many pages about my life’s experiences and how this obsession or preoccupation with existential dread and human behavior came to be. It’s been very revealing. I understand why people write biographies. It’s cathartic and really puts the puzzle pieces together in a person’s life.
Quinn in the desert in 1983, firing an M203 Grenade Launcher.
MY MILITARY TIME
I started writing about my military experience recently. I have mixed emotions about having served. On one hand, I’m very proud to have offered six years of my life for my country. On the other hand, I would have preferred not to have served in the infantry. I’ve never written about my military time. A lot of it wasn’t a great experience for me, although there were parts of it I needed as a young man in order to grow up and toughen up. I know a lot of people would disagree with me about some of the things I learned, or how I learned them, because 45 years ago, life and people were very different—it was very politically incorrect, if you will. It was the way it was, that’s all. It did force me to grow up and teach me to take responsibility for my actions. It also taught me that you can have a bond with another human being (a brother in battle) that transcends the superficiality of everyday life. That was important for me to understand. I learned a lot, but, as I said, in ways that wouldn’t be acceptable today.
I went to basic training (BT), where I received the Iron Mike Award, advanced individual training (AIT), and basic combat training (BCT) at Fort Benning, Georgia. I spent several months there. I served with the 24th Infantry Division - a (RDF) Rapid Deployment Force in Fort Stewart, Georgia. I served 3 years as an infantryman (11C) and 3 years as a combat photographer (84B). I was trained in 60mm, 82mm, and 120mm mortars, M16, M203, AK-47, 45 handgun, hand grenades, M72LAW, bayonet, and hand-to-hand combat. I attended Air Assault School in Fort Campbell, Kentucky, home of the 101st Airborne, trained, and received an EIB (Expert Infantry Badge). And then I served 3 years as a combat photographer with the 850th Signal Company.
4.2-inch (120mm) mortar being fired. A mortar crew consists of a gunner, an assistant gunner, and an ammunition man. I served in all positions. My last position was as a gunner.
THE PROJECTILE IN JEPP’S HEAD
Right now, I’m writing about a military buddy called “Jepp.” This event took place at about two or three in the morning. We always moved and operated at night. I was a gunner on an APC (Armored Personnel Carrier) mortar crew; we were mechanized infantry. We were hauling down a dirt road at 25 or 30 miles per hour in a convoy with only one tiny red light to follow the APC in front of us. All of a sudden, the APC in front of me suddenly stopped. My driver pulled the brakes on, and we came within a couple of feet of the APC in front of us. I waited for a minute or two to see if they had just had to readjust and get going again or find out what happened. They didn’t move. I jumped down from my unit and went to see what was happening. Jepp was sitting in the 50-caliber machine gun position (gunner position), the same position I occupied on my APC, and he wasn’t moving or saying anything. I climbed up on the APC and immediately felt what I thought was oil or hydraulic fluid all over the side of the rig. I put my flashlight on it (red light), and it looked like oil. I said, “Jepp, what happened?” He didn’t answer. I used my flashlight and looked at his head. He had a large projectile protruding from his right eye. It was at least 3” inches in diameter. There was blood everywhere. I was covered in it. It took me a few seconds to process what I was looking at, and the oil, or hydraulic fluid, was Jepp’s blood. I wanted to get him in a better position, so I pulled him out of the gunner’s position onto the top of the APC. I didn’t touch the projectile; I called the Medevac helicopter, and they arrived in just a few minutes. I checked Jepp’s pulse, and he was still alive. They put him on a stretcher, and he was gone in an instant.
I was covered in his blood. I had no way to wash it off. We resumed our mission, and nothing else was said. All I could think about for the rest of the night was, “That could have been me. I could have been killed.” Death was always present in these kinds of situations. Terror management theory calls it “mortality salience.” Mortality salience is a psychological state where a person is aware of their own death and its inevitability. It's a state of conscious awareness associated with psychological terror. I had several experiences like this one.
I’m also writing about the suicides, murders, accidents, etc. that I had to photograph during my time with the Department of Defense. They were traumatizing in a lot of ways. They offered psychological evaluations (post-photographing dead bodies and horrific scenes), but I never took them up on those invitations. I’ve been exposed to death quite a bit in my life, and it’s only now that I’m connecting the dots through writing this book, making art, and taking walks every day. I can see so clearly how all of these life events are tied to Ernest Becker’s theories. There will be a lot more in my book.
“War Pig No. 2,” 8” x 11” Acrylic and Oil
An article about Rick Rubin’s book, which I like a lot (as you know): Rick Rubin: The Creative Act
“Nosophobia,” 9” x 11” acrylic painting.