I’ve had some unbelievable experiences in my life. I can’t fully express my gratitude for each of these experiences. I know I’ve had certain privileges; I’m fully aware of them and want to acknowledge that up front. At the same time, I’ve worked hard, sacrificed, and earned what I’ve received. Eternally grateful, no shame.
Something I'll Never See Again...
This was in a Paris publication. It did happen twice; I had a show in 2010 and then in 2012 and both times Joel-Peter Witkin was having a exhibition in the city as well.
“Hungarian Ballerina,” whole plate ambrotype on black glass. 2009, Budapest, Hungary (wet collodion workshop)
Existential Illusions: Why We Can’t See Our Own Defenses Against Death
Most people cannot recognize their own existential illusions. These worldviews do not appear to them as constructions—they feel like reality itself. Becker understood this well: the defenses only work if they are lived as unquestionable truths. To call them illusions outright is to destabilize the very structure that protects a person from the terror of mortality. Terror Management Theory confirms this dynamic; even subtle challenges to a worldview often trigger defensiveness or hostility rather than openness.
Otto Rank helps clarify why this is the case. He drew a sharp distinction between the “common man,” who survives by surrendering to collective illusions, and the “artist,” who refuses that surrender. For Rank, the common man finds security in what he called life-lies—cultural narratives, religious doctrines, and social roles that buffer anxiety at the cost of individuality. The artist, by contrast, attempts to live and create without such shelter, carrying what Rank called the “artist’s burden”: confronting mortality without metaphysical guarantees and transforming that confrontation into creation.
Becker extended this insight into a broader cultural frame. In The Denial of Death (1973), he showed how the symbolic self is built upon illusions of permanence, generating both neurosis and creativity as defenses against finitude. But in Escape from Evil (1975), he pressed further: illusions are not only fragile, they are dangerous. When a personal defense collapses, the individual may experience anxiety or despair. When a collective illusion collapses, entire societies can respond with scapegoating, violence, and othering. Here lies the paradox: what protects us from death anxiety on one level can generate destruction on another. Terror Management Theory has since confirmed its findings empirically; mortality salience heightens prejudice, hardens worldview defense, and intensifies hostility toward out-groups.
This is why it is nearly impossible to “show” someone that their ritual or belief system—whether a religious heaven, ancestor worship, or syncretic borrowing of Indigenous practices—is, at its core, a defense against death. To expose that fact is to strip away their armor. Instead, the artist can take a different approach. Rather than dismantling another’s defenses, the artist models another path: refusing denial, holding mortality in view, and metabolizing its anxiety into creation.
For me, this principle is embodied in the wet collodion process. Each plate is unstable, fragile, and impermanent. It can peel, crack, or fade at any moment. There is no illusion of permanence—only the presence of a fragile image that carries mortality on its surface. Unlike religious or cultural illusions that promise continuity beyond death, the collodion plate insists on impermanence, even as it becomes an “immortality object.” It shows that meaning can be created without pretending to transcend death. Its beauty is inseparable from its fragility.
The task is not to convince others that their illusions are false, but to demonstrate through practice that meaning can be made without them. In this sense, art becomes an alternative to illusion, a fragile but honest gesture against oblivion. A collodion plate does not promise eternity—it offers presence. It is a reminder that creation itself can hold mortality in view, that the refusal of denial can yield not despair but form, memory, and meaning.
My Fifth Darkroom Build
My new darkroom in Las Cruces, New Mexico. 12’ x 15’ x 10’—I’ll share more as I detail it out for use.
I think this is my fifth darkroom build I’ve done in the last 30 years—it could be more, but I remember the other four quite well.
This is 180 square feet and has a 10’ ceiling. It’s part of my huge garage. We only have one vehicle, so this space was sitting idle, waiting to be used.
The space without the epoxy floor—the “before” picture.
I have a dedicated office space in the house but needed a place where I can spill paint and chemicals without worrying too much. If you know about AgNO₃, you know what I’m talking about.
The space with the epoxy floor—the “after” picture.
Racism isn’t innate – Here are Five Psychological Stages that may Lead to It
I encourage you to take a look at this article from The Conversation. It references Terror Management Theory, which to me is one of the most overlooked—and ignored—frameworks for understanding the problems we face today.
From racism to war, from bigotry and xenophobia to jingoism and religious dogma, we seem almost determined to find “the other.” As the old saying goes, I’ll hate you for the color of your shirt or the shape of your nose. Anything will do, so long as it puts someone in the “out group.” America has been marinating in this for a long time, and at this moment, I don’t see the future looking particularly bright. If anything, I’d caution people to prepare themselves for more, and larger, terrible events ahead.
You can already see it unfolding: Russia’s war in Ukraine, the genocide in Gaza, and climate disasters that grow more relentless each year—wildfires, hurricanes, and flooding. These events are not only catastrophic in themselves, but they remind us, again and again, of our own fragility and mortality. And when we are forced to face that, death anxiety tends to boil over into hostility, scapegoating, and division.
“We spend endless energy on the ‘what’ of our problems but rarely ask the ‘why.’ It’s like treating a cough while ignoring the virus that causes it.”
Add to this the terrible political divide in America: the Kirk assassination, Trump sending troops into American cities, and the daily drumbeat of culture war rhetoric. Political party loyalties—red and blue alike—are tearing at the fabric of our society. Even in our everyday lives, people seem more standoffish, impatient, and cold (I’ve felt this for a few years). It’s as if the collective weight of death anxiety is bubbling up everywhere, pushing us further into our corners.
This is what my studies and interests revolve around: what the fear of non-existence means for people and how it runs outside of conscious awareness. Terror Management Theory and Ernest Becker’s work hold so much explanatory power, I can’t understand why more people don’t embrace them—don’t bring them into their lives. Our world would be a much better place if we did.
Sheldon Solomon, building on Becker, put it bluntly: We will always need a designated group of inferiors.
What do you think? Do you see this drive to divide and “other” playing out in your own circles, communities, or even in the way strangers treat each other on the street? I’d love to hear your perspective.
And yet, I can’t help but believe there’s another path. If we had the courage to face death honestly, maybe we wouldn’t need enemies at all.
Update from PhD Land
Ernest Becker - 1924-1974
Read This Article
This is a wonderful article that succinctly covers Becker’s ideas, TMT, and the state of the world:
https://newrepublic.com/article/199347/1-fear-death-wreaking-havoc-world
The Ernest Becker Foundation Guide
I've always been interested in what the EBF does. They are amazing at taking incredibly hard-to-understand, complicated things and putting them into words that make sense. Let's be honest: it can be hard to understand and remember these ideas. But this tutorial does something unique: it breaks everything down to its most basic parts.
What stands out to me the most is how they've made something that seems impossible to understand easy to understand. These aren't just ideas that people in academia talk about; they're real frameworks that can change how we think about and deal with the world.
I'm interested in what you think: Do you think it's worth it to think about these ideas? What is it about these notions that makes them worth paying attention to?
For reference
Ernest Becker Foundation. (2023). A communications toolkit for campaigners on death anxiety and societal change. The Ernest Becker Foundation.
About Becker's synthesis:
"Being aware of death makes people invest in our cultural worldviews, which help us feel like we have an important place in a meaningful world." "Feeling that we have contributed to something that will live on after us reduces the anxiety and discomfort that come with knowing that we will one day die" (Ernest Becker Foundation, 2023, p. 1).
About cultural buffers:
“Culture can give us a sense of immortality that helps us deal with our fear of death and lets us live our lives and be part of society. For individuals who adhere to religious worldviews, a sense of immortality may be perceived literally (afterlife, heaven, reincarnation, etc.), whereas for others, immortality is understood symbolically (leaving a legacy, career advancement, attaining fame or notoriety, creating something of value, procreation, etc.) (Ernest Becker Foundation, 2023, p. 1).
About the beginnings of TMT:
Three social psychologists—Jeff Greenberg, Tom Pyszczynski, and Sheldon Solomon—came up with Terror Management Theory (TMT) in 1986 to see if Becker's ideas about how people use culture to deal with existential terror were true (Ernest Becker Foundation, 2023, p. 1).
On the breakdown of worldviews:
“If our cultural buffers are working right, most of the time people should feel pretty safe mentally. But when these cultural buffers are endangered or completely disrupted... worldviews can break down, and that underlying fear starts to come to the surface" (Ernest Becker Foundation, 2023, p. 1).
About defensive responses:
People mainly seek self-esteem by becoming more entrenched in their worldviews, values, and ideas; more loyal to their own culture and in-group; and more antagonistic toward others (Ernest Becker Foundation, 2023, p. 2).
On reminders of death in advocacy:
"Challenges to someone's cultural worldview or 'immortality project' can provoke death anxiety, leading to avoidance or, worse, aggression towards the message and the messenger" (Ernest Becker Foundation, 2023, p. 2).
About persuasive messaging:
"Most advocates know how important it is to send clear, persuasive messages, but does your approach take into account the fear of death?" Decades of TMT research have shown us that when we create messages, we should think about how people react to death dread. This can help stop defensive behaviors (Ernest Becker Foundation, 2023, p. 3).
On framing for the group:
“Using language that reflects the worldview or core beliefs shared by your audience will make them feel like they are part of a ‘in-group.’ "This makes them feel more connected and less defensive" (Ernest Becker Foundation, 2023, p. 3).
“Lunch in the French Countryside,” 5” x 4” Black Glass Ambrotype, France 2009
Clarity on Direction for Doctoral Studies
As I move through this program, I’ll be posting here as part diary/journal and part research/reminders. I’m going to start at the beginning (first things first, in that order).
Despite existing research on death anxiety and Terror Management Theory, there remains a lack of understanding about how artists uniquely engage with mortality through their creative practice. Here lies my sweet spot: artists metabolize absurdity into elegiac beauty, creating work that doesn’t deny death but dwells in its presence.
While previous studies have examined the psychological strategies humans use to manage death anxiety, few have focused on the role of art-making as a direct and conscious confrontation with death (the main driver for me). The literature has largely prioritized quantitative measures of death anxiety and its behavioral outcomes, but less attention has been paid to qualitative, practice-based explorations of how mortality awareness shapes the creative process.
“I use mortality as a creative source, creating art that turns fear into connection and purpose.”
I want my work to address this gap by investigating how artists’ engagement with death anxiety can lead to existentially authentic art. Using a mixed-methods approach that combines autoethnography, interviews with artists, and analysis of creative works, this study will explore how artistic practice functions as a site for mortality confrontation and how such engagement reorients artistic purpose and output. It sounds daunting, I know, but it’s really just asking questions about how mortality affects creative people versus those who don’t identify as creative.
The research will contribute to existential psychology, art theory, and creative practice by offering an integrated theoretical and practice-based model for understanding how artists process death anxiety. The findings are expected to inform theories of death anxiety, models of creative practice, and arts-based approaches to existential therapy, ultimately supporting artists, educators, and mental health practitioners in fostering deeper, more meaningful engagement with the realities of death.
“The life-giving question guiding me now is: How might confronting mortality through creativity lead us into deeper, more authentic ways of being human?”
Vision Seed (short form)
Helping people directly confront mortality—not as a means to an end, but as a source of ingenuity, fortitude, and a closer bond—is my vision seed. I use historical wounds, grief, and death anxiety in my writing and art to demonstrate how facing our greatest fears can lead to purpose and service. My mission is to advance these discussions so that we can live more compassionately, reciprocally, and with greater presence.
Photo by Vlad Rebek, Santa Fe, New Mexico, 2025
Quinn Jacobson - Seeking Residency. I was climbing the rocks near The Chi Center (where we were staying), looking at the 600-year-old petroglyphs. This photograph was made by my good friend, Vlad Rebek. He is an upperclassman in the program and has a love for photography, like me.
My First Doctoral Retreat
“Here lies my sweet spot: artists metabolize absurdity into elegiac beauty, creating work that doesn’t deny death but dwells in its presence.”
I just spent six days in Santa Fe, New Mexico, for my first residency in the doctoral program in Visionary Practice and Regenerative Leadership (VPRL) at Southwestern College. The residency was titled Seeking, and that word couldn’t have been more fitting.
The time with peers and faculty was both enlightening and challenging. In many ways, it transported me back to my Goddard days, when I earned my M.F.A.I.A. degree. That experience was life-changing, and I chose Southwestern College because I sensed a similar depth in its pedagogy. These programs are rare. They carry an intimacy, a rigor, and a kind of searching that I haven’t found anywhere else. I believe these next three years will shape me just as profoundly.
“El Papacito,” the Chi Center dog. He was a little ball of love. He would come and hang out with my at meal times. A real little sweetheart.
That said, this first step wasn’t easy. While the environment felt familiar, it was also the first time I’ve stood in front of a group of thoughtful, intelligent, and deeply considerate people and presented my ideas about mortality, creativity, and meaning. It wasn’t smooth. I stumbled. I second-guessed myself. Too much time in my own head made it harder to bring my thoughts clearly into the room.
At moments, I felt like Howard Hughes crawling out of a cave—disheveled, blinking at the light—shouting ideas about death that weren’t really about death at all. They were about life, meaning, and what it means to create in the face of the void. But that’s the point, isn’t it? You can’t do this work alone. You need community to test ideas, to sharpen them, to remind you that what feels like incoherence might just be the rough beginning of something worth saying.
I didn’t do a perfect job, but that’s okay. Seeking isn’t about having answers. It’s about showing up, risking failure, and trusting the process. And that’s exactly what I plan to keep doing.
This has got a UFO and alien vibes all over it!
600-800-year-old little man in the sky! I ended up doing a little watercolor painting of this one.
A 600-800-year-old bird petroglyph—these things made me wonder about humans and their activities to be remembered.
A Cholla Cactus walking cane leaning on a large granite stone.
We did this exercise on fractals—Earthflow & Fractal Pattern Explorations and Scales of Action, Scales of Influence, a micro-to-macro experiential art project. I saw fractals everywhere after that—I do love the Golden Ratio and Fibonacci numbers.
Picacho Hills early August morning. Las Cruces, New Mexico 2025
The Explanatory Power of Becker's Ideas and TMT
On the first page of Ernest Becker’s book, The Birth and Death of Meaning (1962), he wrote, “This is an ambitious book. In these times there is hardly any point in writing just for the sake of writing: one has to want to do something really important. What I have tried to do here is to present in a brief, challenging, and readable way the most important things that the various disciplines have discovered about man, about what makes people act the way they do.”
Terror Management Theory (TMT), developed as an extension of Ernest Becker’s work, posits that the uniquely human awareness of mortality gives rise to profound existential anxiety. As Becker argued in The Denial of Death (1973), this awareness creates the potential for paralyzing terror that must be managed if life is to remain bearable. To buffer against this anxiety, individuals construct and maintain cultural worldviews that provide meaning, order, and the promise of personal significance. These worldviews not only orient individuals within a shared reality but also serve as symbolic defenses against death anxiety. Consequently, human motivation is fundamentally tied to sustaining the belief that life has purpose and that one’s existence has value. When these worldviews are challenged—or when mortality becomes salient—individuals typically respond with defensive strategies aimed at reestablishing confidence in their cultural frameworks and reaffirming their sense of worth.
This is where my work enters the conversation. If culture at large defends us against mortality, art can turn toward it. My work is centered on art that metabolizes death anxiety into meaning—not by escaping it, but by dwelling in its presence. Over the next three years, I will be creating both a dissertation and a body of work that explore how creativity can transform existential dread into something we can live with, and maybe even live more fully because of it.