On Mortality

I received an interesting request the other day from one of you out there on The Wall. They wanted to know what I thought about Mortality. But something "more complete than what usually appears on The Wall." Hmm.

I do need to clarify about The Wall. It stands in for two “real life” situations. One no longer occurs, the other rarely. The first would occur when lecturing in class and I would go “off script” as sometimes related thoughts would spring to mind and demand inclusion - and as many of you may recall from your own days in a classroom, students rarely would walk out when the professor started to "wing it." [Something I chose to believe even when teaching via online videos.] The second would be conversations with people you care about regarding issues of real concern. These days politics, the kids or grandkids, movies, sports or online events tend to dominate, so meaningful conversations simply fall away. So I write The Wall.

But to mortality. To put it simply, but seriously, I don’t believe in it. I believe we are immortal. Not that I think we end up walking and talking around in other worlds - except of course in those quantum alternate existences of which I am so fond. :-)

Rather I believe that in our current lives the existential spark which most traditional faiths call the soul transcends our current physical demise (aka death) and continues to evolve, learn and develop. Now, admittedly, the nature of those subsequent existences does remain a mystery.

My oldest and dearest friend, who was born on the other half of our duplex six days after me, interestingly has occasionally asserted that he shares, at least portions of, this rather strange belief system. Among the interesting discussions we have had is the question of whether there comes a time in the maturation of the soul when we become aware of the existences that preceded the current one. And do we retain relationships or shared experiences from previous existences?

We have not come to any firm conclusions regarding those issues. ;-) However we do agree that the process is never ending - hence our immortality. We do not stop at some point and stroll about in Elysian Fields, we just, as was often said back in the 60s when he and I were college roommates, “keep on keepin’ on!”

But to clarify a bit on mortality, i.e. - "being subject to death." It obviously plays a role in our current existence. It can affect our behavior. I am a touch acrophobic - I don't like high places. I am aware that falling from said high place will result in my being "subject to death." Seeing videos of those [in my mind lunatic] people climbing sheer rock faces in Yellowstone results in a quick channel change. I stay away from high places. Additionally, my recurrent claustrophobia prevents me from venturing into small spaces in which I might be "subject to death." Sadly then I will never see the magnificent cave paintings around the world.

Mortality can, however, also serve as a motivator. Rembrandt said "A painting is finished when the artist says it is finished." Leonardo Da Vinci is said to have carried the Mona Lisa with him all his life. Perhaps hoping to, in his mind, finish it before he died. On a far smaller scale I have been working on a drawing for a couple of months now. It keeps insisting on compositional additions. When tired, the thought crosses my mind - "I hope I finish this thing before I die." So I lie down on the floor again and take up my pens and markers.

And then there are those brushes with immortality that we can experience without the necessity of dying. Some commonly shared experiences probably check this box: The birth of a child, falling in love, a medal performance in some competition. I am no doubt biased in thinking of artists in this realm. A genius performer lost in the magic of a musical composition, an artist losing conscious control of his/her medium as the work take shape beneath their hands, a poet fascinated by the words seeming to simply appear beneath their pen or on the screen. Immortality slipping through the existential curtain to add a touch of the divine to our everyday.

Then again, sometimes the immortal appears less obviously. Feeling well after a sickness. A sunset or sunrise of unusual beauty. Being buried by a mass of puppies. A certain smile. You choose. Sometimes we realize the moment, hold our breath and hang on for as long as possible. Other times the moment slips away and we realize it was there only after it fades. Immortality is fickle.

There is Time, and Then There is Time

 I learned today that The National Institute of Standards and Technology has announced the new "most accurate clock in the world. The clock is based on a “fountain” design that represents the gold standard of accuracy in timekeeping. The NIST-F4 ticks at such a steady rate that if it had started running 100 million years ago, when dinosaurs roamed, it would be off by less than a second today.

Whew. While that brings no retroactive relief to the now vanished dinos, it did make me think about the vagaries of time - the primary thought was wondering why tracking time with such mind boggling accuracy was important enough to have a National Institute. And if said institute was among those shuttered during the government shutdown - was there an impact on time, current or Paleolithic? But I digress.

I'm more concerned about the impact of everyday ordinary time in my life. And it does shift. For example, I have designated the hours between 6 and 9 AM as PST - Prime Sleeping Time, the hours during which I get my best sleep. 2 PM is nap time, which is however often sacrificed to MBT - Most Boring Time, when I wait in the waiting room of some healthcare office to be seen for some malady which is directly linked to SDA - Sole Driver Activity. But I digress, yet again.

My real interest is in how time affects the creative process - primarily painting. As I have mentioned before Rembrandt asserted that "a painting is finished when the artist says it is finished." Which, problematically, leaves open the possibility of a painting never being finished. You know, if the artist never says "There. It is finished!" 

And that brings us to Leonardo d'Vinci, and his reputation for leaving a variety of projects unfinished when he was seduced away by the challenge of another "more interesting" opportunity. His famous notebooks are ample evidence of a mind never at rest. And might shed light on this polymath artist who carried the Mona Lisa with him all his life. Perhaps he never thought it was finished.

In light of full disclosure, much of this reflection on time comes from my discovery - from browsing through my picture gallery - that I have been working on the current "carriages and greenery and circles" kind of image for almost three months. It doesn't seem that long, just lying on the floor drawing on a big picture.

But that might be because when I submerge myself into this environment: 

time really does not exist. 

Well, the NIST-F4 is still tick-tocking away, but it has no relevance in my life. I think I quoted an anonymous source recently that asserted that: "When I am using my hands I do not have to think." That is not exactly what I mean when I say time does not exist when I am painting. I always listen to music while drawing and the genre of music influences where my thoughts drift. Years, places and people, crowd the edges of my drawings. And it is in that revery that time does not intrude. 

However, when the rough edges of time from the dinosaurs intrude - dinner gatherings, appointments, the doorbell, security camera - the drawing suffers. Bits and pieces fall outside the lines, and I have to stop. Often "tyrannosaurus-NISTus" distractions haul me away for hours at a time. Gulp, even days. But even though it takes awhile, eventually I can take up bit of color again and banish time.