![The media file [Christian] is by CallahanFreet.](/artists/christian/christian_head_hu5cef231d8f4180b7a037182f38f41a4e_11594_800x0_resize_q82_h1_box_2.webp)
Given the human addiction to life and our awareness of death’s finality, the extent to which philosophy has analyzed the conflicts of our conclusions is not really that shocking. Our acknowledgement of opposition seems to be an admission of our ignorance — and I sure don’t claim to know much, so many of my conclusions normally end with questions, too.
Take, for instance, the persistence of this project. My series of self-portraits began as something akin to a journal, but the discomfort I felt from the physical exposure drove me to more deeply consider why I continued and its repetition forced me to review my philosophy.
My thoughts about this project and its intent eventually led me to several conclusions. One is that life and reality must be empty if two valid perspectives can differ. Before this work I was already leaning towards that philosophy anyway, so it feels reasonable to me. But, it is in opposition to my concept of creativity, which is an issue if I plan to continue making things.
If I’m comfortable that life is meaningless, what is the point of any of this?
![The media file [Duality] is by CallahanFreet.](/works/52weeks/2021/0904/20210904_hufc309505896ef5c5084bd82a3b664beb_290558_800x0_resize_q82_h1_box_2.webp)
If each of us is ultimately alone in life, then perhaps along the way we are not. Maybe our communication is the driver integrating us with the outside world, a necessary diversion from the truth of our emptiness. But if I don’t exist, and neither do you, then what value at all is there in creativity and its collaboration — is it perhaps purely a social act? At least that definition of value might somehow resolve my conflict.
All my self-analysis, imagery, and writing have always been portals for me to the outside world. They connect my nothingness to that of others. But this project is unique, its nature as a long-term meditation on self has made it a tool of selectivity. It requires a confrontation with the outside world for which I really have no value; it makes me choose how to expose myself and forces my concentration on the value of communication.
Yet, I don’t consider myself real. Nor do I think of the world outside in different terms; to me it is equally empty. My sense for thought and ideas defies that model of the world — because they must have some value if I choose to cultivate this.