A month-long contemplation on death and the possibility that life affords. For one month, I constricted myself to the use of 8”x8” black and white oil paintings to consider how I might feel about my life in the last exhale of breath that will someday occur. Each description is an excerpt taken from the post I made for each entry on Instagram in March 2021 (some had no commentary on IG so are intentionally left blank).
Here is my first installment of my month long personal dive into death and the life I have and am living. What makes a life lived well? It’s a good question- Because we take nothing with us when it’s over. On the 26th [March 2021] I have the annual contemplation of my birth. This year I’m flipping it around and instead I am going to contemplate that besides birth - the one true thing I have in common with everyone else is that I too will die. What happens in between is called a life, but really it’s a series of choices we make that determine how well we feel we have lived the moment we die.
This isn’t about being morbid or depressed. I’m hoping for quite the opposite.
Here, I spent so long trying to paint the light of the whites, but I finally realized that I couldn’t get the light right because I needed to see the shadows first. Once I saw the shadows, the light found its rightful place on its surface. The light shines the brightest with a shadow underneath.
When it becomes a big mess, the instinct is to keep adding. Add more white, add more black. I don’t even realize when I have five brushes sticking out of my left hand like yarrow sticks in an I-Ching meditation. I keep going because I’ve already invested in layers of paint. Back and forth. Black and white. Now suddenly it’s all grey- and nothing is clear. My intuition is to take my rag and wipe away and make a space to begin again- but I want to feel like I can fix this. “If I just... “or “it just needs...”
When I listen to my intuition - things just work out- not always the way I expected- but my intuition knows me the best and it’s always got my back. It takes a lot to make a choice on a feeling. But I think it’s the choices I make based on intuition that are the ones that have done me the most good. In this 3rd installment- I had to finally wipe away the bird who wasn’t coming through after laboring to bring her forth. It’s hard to scrap a bunch of work and start over, but sometimes that is the only way to move to the next level. In the end, I know everything I did and all the choices I had to make and I also had to decide when it was over. And now I’ll just leave it here and move on to the next one.
[in #3] I labored to bring into being with oil paint, the little bird. I had to battle myself to let go of all the effort I’d put in & allow myself the ability to scrape off the paint that had built-up and start over. In the end, I was able to find another version of the bird that I could be okay with. Today, in retrospect, I thought that perhaps, it was the bird that wanted to be held and considered as not just an element of the composition, but as a composition in-and-of-itself. This little carcass is one that I’ve saved in a box for years—who’s little light was put out by one of my cats years ago. So I held the shell that is now just a memory of a baby bird; the discard of a brief yet whole life.
[#5’s] post had no commentary- I had commentary in my head but i just couldn’t quite verbalize it- and it was late and I was done for the night. It was in the same vein as how that painting came about. I had an intention of what I wanted - but it just didn’t end up the way I visualized it in my head. I had wanted to set the little bird free, but instead she got more tangled. Reminds me of my first real experience with death of a close loved one. I had a Miscarriage my first pregnancy in 2001. We had planned the pregnancy and I remember feeling so confused as to how we could plan so meticulously and have it go so wrong. I remember that having a miscarriage hurt more than giving actual birth( which I eventually did w/o pain blockers, at home in a birth tub. I think because I didn’t want to let go when the miscarriage happened—I didn’t want to loose this idea of a life that I’d carried - even the short while I had it in me- birthing my first and only child was a release I had wanted- so the experience of birthing life wasn’t like the pain of loosing it. These days I’m understanding more and more that I can’t pick and choose the pain I want to experience. Life is full of painful experiences that we can’t control. Every experience of pain is different. We think death is the ultimate pain we are taught to fear - but in essence - isn’t it the ultimate release from it?
I wanted to release this little bird last night, but the paint and I struggled to agree and in the fight, the idea of the little bird became even more entangled in the conflict. Tonight’s attempt was a little less messy, but still- the struggle between what I think I wanted to see and what arose still differed. In this painting- It seems she might be getting pulled somewhere new- but really who knows. For now let’s just say she’s moving towards a light.
I’ve been all around the center.
The center is where the darkest dark lies.
It’s also where the texture lives.
So much discovered, more to uncover, many things gained, loss is inevitable. Imbalance brings dis-ease- yet sometimes it’s necessary to find true balance. There was another object in this composition- yet at a certain point I had to admit i wasn’t going to be able to execute it in a timely fashion. I can do 3am bed times a lot lately- but at some point the flame will flicker. I’m flickering. It’s time to extinguish that which is not meant to be - at least not right now.
Another thing about death- it’s like it’s the ultimate failure. And there’s all sorts of ways to die, and we can put together a list in any order of preference/ acceptableness- but in essence- whether you’re , sick, dying, depressed, killed, murdered, accidented , got old, aborted, snuffed out, abandoned, lost, malnourished, mistaken, had faulty wiring, etc- there’s no failure in death. The shame of failure in dying comes from fear of how you’ve lived- but once your light is out, you’re not the one who will be effected by those thoughts.
Death isn’t about failing to be alive....
The point here is, this painting was a totally different painting about 30 minutes before it became this one. I labored for a different vision to have its life on the canvas, but it wasn’t working. For so many reasons- bad time management, tired, distracted focus, just not feeling it.... again- another list- and just before everything changed I had an epiphany- “at what point is it inevitable that this painting is failing? Am I trying to make this painting acceptable to ‘share’ because that is the painting I started and if I don’t finish that one then ‘that’ is the fail? The truth I decided was - no one knows, no one will know and no one is thinking about whether or not this painting I am making right now will be good or bad. There is no way to fail this. I’m choosing to make this. I’m choosing to post these everyday this month. So what’s the worst that can happen if I just scrape away what is happening right now, flip the canvas around and try something else?
Maybe death is just another opportunity to try something else.
Do you Pray? Who or what do you pray to? Do you feel connected to a feeling or an idea when you pray? Why do you think the prayer hands are so universal? I believe it’s to feel more connected- a physical check-in to your heartbeat. To the pulse of energy that we all run on. I didn’t grow up with the belief gene. I’m always curious what it would be like to be someone who truly believed in god-as-a-human - an anthropamorphised being. Especially as a girl, I always had a hard time understanding faith based on passed down stories.[of predominately male figures]. I didn’t feel connected to any of them. What I do feel connected to is my heartbeat. There’s a strong energy in there giving me life. Energy is a word used to describe the phenomenon that runs all life. Maybe that’s what some would call god - but that’s also just a word. For now, I’m the witness to this energy. When I die- I believe whatever is inside me playing this heartbeat leaves and goes on to play some other songs. If I have to declare a belief- I want to believe I’m just part of an everlasting never ending song. The more connected to my heart, the clearer and stronger my part in the song becomes.
I’m approaching a moment of disillusion- out of balance with my daily schedule, considering the pressures I put on myself that are real or imagine, questioning if anyone is listening, questioning if that even matters? I decided to do this challenge to dive into the unknown, into the taboo subject that is death. Additionally I have limited myself to black and white oil paint on 8x8 canvas. Tonight I scrapped two canvases and almost scraped this one. I’m feeling at a Loss for inspiration. What am I trying to discover? Who am I having this conversation with? Do I really have to keep going? Of course metaphorically- as I am prone to do- I could be talking about any one of my many projects - finished , unfinished, never started, half-realized, scrapped, thrown away, ripped up, impossible to figure out... heck - aren’t I really just talking about life. I’m reminded of chapter 28 of the Tao De Ching of which I’ve been recently reading. ============
Know the bright, yet keep to the dark.
Never wavering from truth, you will conform to the pattern of an absolute being.
In this way, you return again to the Infinite.
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I think this chapter stood out to me because I resonate with the idea of holding the light yet knowing that the light is only in contrast to that which holds it; the darkness. I’ve never been afraid of the dark, it’s when the light washes out all the contrast that I feel afraid. Balancing the two has been my work.
I’m now halfway to the anniversary of my birth this month!
Coinciding with this months art challenge I am also taking part in a class through Nalanda Bodhi Seattle called visual literacy: the wheel of life. In this class we are connecting with the Tibetan thangka painting style through lecture and art activities- I decided to use today to get intimate with the Three Poisons:Passion, Aggression Ignorance - Causes of suffering that are at the center of the wheel.
This installment of #march_memento_memori brought to you with inspiration of Wanda Vision - I was racking my brain today trying to decide what today’s theme was- searching my chachkies, niknaks and keepsakes. Then after watching a bit of Wanda Vision it dawned on me! Look how not only is our humanity frail and short lived- so are the things we make. We are constantly #nnovating - and when we focus on that word it sounds so positive - but for innovation to happen there also needs to be the things that are leftover, the redundant, useless, dysfunctional components that at one time were the apex of technological advancement- later to be discarded for what’s new; upgraded, rebooted, updated, overhauled, redesigned, reimagined, moved-on from & left behind
Everything gets old.
From the never before considered skin surrounding other parts of me that I’ve considered too often— to the shiny miniature computer that fits in my pocket that I’m using to post this image.
Nostalgia is a strange thing. Sometimes it can be a point of pride to have held on to; a component of the past, like a time-travel device.
No matter how of or if we wax nostalgic about how that-from-then-was-better than this-from-now—-time keeps moving forward. everything dies, time is an illusion, everything-is-technology and it’s updating faster and faster and faster.
Noticing that it’s futile to try and control all the going forward is for me a step towards freedom.
I used to be afraid of thinking about death - but then My body started to get old - and no matter what anyone tells you- I’m pretty sure there’s only one end to this chapter.
—-my nostalgia—
#viewmaster of snowwhite
#vintagetv keychain from @archiemcphee
#fendertwinreverb #dial from my #amp that I had lost but recently recovered.
Who told you that you were you broken? When did you first remember thinking you needed to be fixed ? What parts have you tried to erase ? Have you been stuck? And What just isn’t sticking? What tools did you get given to you? What tools have you discarded for new ones? How will you know when you’re fixed? When did you realize you can’t fix something if you can’t see clearly to the original crack and if you can’t sit still enough to see all the pieces. #krazyglue #tape #staedtlereraser #elmersglue #gluestick
So, how are you Measuring-Up these days?
I wrote a really great post about the lifespan of things...it was really great...you should have read it...but a tear in the time space continuum engulfed my words and there is nothing left of that post. So it probably never existed anyways except for this memory and of words I thought and then typed and then Somewhere in-between my finger pressing post and contact with the screen- reality begged to differ with me about whether or not I really did actually post anything at all.
Last night a blip in time removed a stream of thoughts I had about time and memory and the stuff we keep. For instance- this handmade needle-felted doll I made for a bookarts project I did a few years back. The book was called “every part of me, a story” and this doll sat in the back as a reveal to be discovered slowly through holes in the pages of the prose.
Now you are looking at a jpeg of a portrait in oil on canvas of the doll that is a little loose self portrait of myself. So- the question I asked last night that you never read (if you are even reading this) is- when does something cease to exist? This doll will become fragile pieces of torn up wool that will slowly fall apart, but maybe the painting will last longer, and as long as the internet apocalypse doesn’t occur, this image will remain in public view. Then after the digital apocalypse- some will every once in a while see this image in a dream or a random thought and then eventually no one will remember it.
The painting long gone, the doll disintegrated. Everything in this painting was first an idea. Then the idea manifested and after that there is a life. There’s no real point to this. Just noticing. Everything has a story. Is it a good story?
Your heartbeat was triggered by an electric impulse. The Impulse started in a bundle of cells at around 5-6 weeks of development. Where did the electricity come from before it triggered your heart to beat? Why does it keep beating? Where does the electricity go when it stops?
Admittedly, as depicted here- I’ve been burning the candle at both ends. The night before painting this one- I went to bed at 3am- I said that aloud before dropping into sleep. Upon waking - I sat on my cushion and decided to just do a quick grab bag look at my copy of the Tao de Ching that I recently acquired—I flipped it open randomly and set my finger down on #59.
“Part 1. For regulating the human (in our constitution) and rendering the (proper) service to the heavenly, there is nothing like moderation.”
In this James Legge translation (not my favorite but the one I have) he notes: The 'moderation' is the opposite of what we call 'living fast,' 'burning the candle at both ends.'
I love synchronicity the little sparks of clarity from the universe. But habits are sticky little bastards**i shamefully look at the time *** it’s a 2:19am.
Let’s just keep this one at #wip status. I did bring in some old friends to help out. Those who know my work will recognize these little helpers from other paintings and drawings of mine. But are they good helpers? #tobecontinued
You know those dreams that you wake up from that are so vivid but not the lucid kind (haven’t cracked the code on that yet #goals) but you wake up with a vivid image in your head and you try to describe it - well I tried to write it out- but the words just didn’t feel like the feelings I felt— you know what I’m talking about?? So, All day- I’m feeling this feeling and seeing in my minds eye this image. So of course that’s what I decided to paint tonight. Using Dream imagery has never been a part of my practice as an artist, so I was interested to see how I would manage to get the visual feeling right of what I was feeling and try to decode Dream feeling imagery into actual imagery- I think I got pretty close as I could in black and white.
How is this connected to my theme this month though- you might ask?- this concentration on the arising of life , death and the contemplation of the grasping that seems to fill the spaces in between those two events. Dreams seem to exist in a sticky place in between the spaces of our lives, though some would argue that the Dream life is just as real as this relative plane of existence that we mostly accept to be the real one. I believe there is something valuable in connecting and paying attention to the Dream time- but I’ll leave that to you to investigate for yourself if you like.
For this one, I’ll posit that this rare albino manta ray is shining some light into the depth of my subconscious- allowing me to see some long ago buried pieces I’ve hidden in the depths. She knows I’ve been trying to do the work and trying to acquire the skillful means to allow me the ability to work with the darkest parts that I am allowing to arise from my depths. Open Water swimming is an actual for real phobia of mine-I’ve tried to get over it but I still can’t swim in deep water -yet in this dream I knew I was safe.
I was thinking about loss and grief- and my own experiences with dealing and processing them. It occurred to me that most of what I learned about death had been from movies and tv. Up until my 30’s, I had not really experienced a dear family member or close friend die. To me, death was a far away concept. Someone else’s problem. An old people issue. A Look but don’t touch situation ...actually, —don’t look. Actually, let’s just not talk about that right now. And- better yet- I can’t think about that right now.
And over and over again we watch death occur on our screens, in film & tv, in the news, and then there’s our favorite characters in our favorite shows that dies and then the shows season ends and then the show is not renewed and there’s no closure — in all this we are dealing with loss, with grief, with unknown factors. And now with unlimited content available- well—- we voluntarily put ourselves through it over and over again.
We are a society that worships the experience or even the fantasy of loss but we fear death; talking about it and most definitely we fear looking right at it without the filter of a screen. On a screen death is masked, curated and manipulated for us in a way that allows us to feel separate from what is being depicted and in essence from ourselves.
What is happening? I have dinosaur brain again. I went down a internet hole watching Larie Anderson interviews after watching a Harvard Lecture Series where she blew my mind with her virtual worlds and the To The Moon project that she created with artist Hsin-Chien Huang. Thanks to @stefangruber for the hot tip on registering for that presentation! Now I’m just thinking about time and mass extinction-and that probably in like 5000 years it’s possible we will be long extinct from having completely fucked up our chances of surviving this planet. But the planet will still be here, things go on. Even without us here. It’s not like we are running this planet. We are like that one roommate who is always breaking things but never admits they were the last one who used the toaster, but now all of the sudden the lever is busted. What will be left of us in the end is the garbage bags of crap we couldn’t of been bothered to sort out ourselves. Mother Nature, used to the messes she always has to clean up, will gently over time fill in all the holes we left in the walls and sage all the corners.
After the slow death of winter, spring arrived with more colors but resolution is harder to reveal. With no forthcoming answers, she looked back towards the year in question with only a sigh.
It had been, after-all, a curious year. They had all been curious years.
There’s always the chance that the choices I made will not feel they were as good of a choice as I thought they were once I step back and view the whole picture. When is the right time to walk away ? When is the right time dig deeper? Sometimes when I step back, all I see are layers and layers of choices piled on top of each other...in the big picture view- I can see very clearly places I wished I never went and places I know I need to touch in on. There are so many times I feel I ruined everything only to look back with distance and feel the complete opposite way. It’s hard to find the balance between too much and not enough- and I think that space in between Is the feeling I’m always trying to work my way to.
This @archiemcphee #zombie thing was a silly choice for a subject at the time - day 12 of this months #mementomori inspired dive into death and darkness. & on my birthday, you may have noticed a bit of a change happened- a rebirth of sorts-to be completely cliche- I am bringing new life in with color to celebrate new beginnings and spring.
So today, as I finally unwind after a 3hr drive to the Washington Coast for a much needed retreat with my @mysterlund - I think I can see what my subconscious was trying to tell me back on March 12th. Yes- we all know it’s been a hell year, but everyone has had their own special circumstances that have made it their own special hell of a year. This zombie is a perfect representation of what I’ve been feeling in my body day-in-day-out as I’ve weathered the unexpected turns, the disappointments, cancelled plans, rejections and social isolations- there’s been a lot of worry, confusion, and so many unknowns. Yet- there has also been so much space for many realizations, the time to inward dive, the space to re-declare what I value, to re- established the person I’ve maybe lost a little on my way to get here. But I’m here now, I see me more clearly and more importantly- I’m listening to me. I am not a zombie, I am alive. Nico Lund is alive and well and she is basking in the unrelenting power of the Pacific Ocean air and all the winds she can bring forth to help her breath a little more freely.
Do Not Worship the Sea Lions ! But if you do worship the sea lions , do not follow them into the waves. But if you do follow them into the waves, do not let them lead you into the undertow. But if you do make it into the undertow, make sure you relax. Remember, you once could breath underwater. I mean, isn’t water just a thicker type of air? When you remember how to breath underwater, you will know where to go next. When you get there, do not follow the white manta ray. But if you do follow the white manta ray. Make sure to see if she has a shadow. Does she have a shadow? What did her shadow say to you?
I must be dead to my process today. Colors run and ideas fade- energy dwindles - I declare Death to this painting tonight. Let me rest for tomorrow is a new day. Usually.
niconixie 31/31 #march_memento_memori 4 weeks ago I took the plunge into this challenge-to reflect on what life I am living and contemplate what is a well lived life? Everyday this month I have sat down with an 8”x8” canvas and created an intentional space to meditate on the space between birth and death, and since death has not happened yet for me, I think about the possible moment of death. In that moment, not before death, but after death, when the consciousness is still connected to brain, and there are thoughts still buzzing but energetically fading out…in that moment, what would I think life was all about? There are so many ideas and beliefs, sciences, religions, fantasies, wishful thinkings, desperations, resignations that complicate the ways in which humanity can handle the concept of death. In this culture that I have been brought up in, Death is not about the dying, it is about the people who are left behind. And for the dying, it is usually about a catalogue of regrets and resignation and/or hopeful validations that there is a place to move on to and that their life and the choices they made did matter for one reason or another.
Each painting was a landmark, a visual snapshot of where I was that day—I love the progression of the subject matter- everyday there was a moment of #huzzah when I’d have the spark of the idea of what I would paint that day….and unfortunately, I would end up staying up till 3am more nights than I would like to admit….*cough *cough-looks at the clock—
Talking about death is not an easy thing. I have often turned away rather than look at it, but looking at myself is looking at something that will end. In the end, I believe there is no I, or me, or mine, and even though no one can say positively what death is no matter how they try…or what life is for that matter…I would like to believe that whatever it is that makes the spark that started all the things going…keeps going….no mater what we believe.
Thank you for you continued support. #mementomori #selfporttrait #oilpaintingoncanvas #wednesdaywonder #portrait #bluegreen #contemporaryart #seattleartpost #artistresidencyathome #artchallenge #seattleartist #thussness #meditation #painting