Death has always been a subject that has fascinated me and has recently become a focus of my painting and my writings at university. Not on some obsessive 2pac "I feel death around the corner"trip, but I have had friends that have passed away at my young age and, more importantly, loved ones whom have passed on. Am not scared of it but rather cautious and, much like anyone else, I would like to confront those final moments and years on my own terms. So I have imagined how best to confront death in a battle we will all lose, 300 (the movie) style.
Fast forward to the late 2000's, perhaps 2060 or so...
1) I will go to Paris, if I am not already living there at the time,
2) I will head to Pont Notre-Dame (or Le Pont Mirabeau), with one of my children, grandchildren, assistant, or by myself if need be,
3) If I am able-bodied enough I will climb to the edge of the bridge, which stands approximately 20 meters from the water and I will jump off..
Simple as that. But come on, is that anyway for an artist to die on his own terms? Maybe, but not this artist.
I have a favorite color. It's Cerulean Blue and until the last month I was the only person I knew that held that same color in similar regard. While technically not exactly a shade of blue that qualifies as a primary color, who cares? Am going to take Cerulean Blue, Cadmium Yellow and Cadmium Red, either acrylic or oil or even tempura paint, and strap it to my body in some form or fashion. And then I will jump in the Seine. Oh wait, before that happens I need to add some small explosive charges to the tubes. And one large one for myself. There's no way am going to drown, or hit the water and then suffer a broken and slow death. Not I.
So this is how I imagine it, right before hitting the water perhaps a second or so at the least, which is approximately nine feet from the surface, I would ideally have someone detonate all four explosive charges so that I disappear into a mist of primary colors. "Man Jumps Off Bridge, No Splash!" will read the headlines of Le Monde and Le Figaro the next day. Eat your heart out David Blaine! Top that Dalí! Ideally, it would be filmed and will live on as an ultimate expression of performance art and sacrifice for my craft. The final triumph of three primary colors that have haunted my efforts since the age of three to bend them to my will and create art.
These events all presume that I have some incurable disease, which as a resident of the United States, is a very real possibility since most of us NEVER go to the doctor since we cannot afford it. Hopefully no random taxi, bullet, heart attack, stroke or other anticipated event rushes me off the stage of life unexpectedly. But that being said, these are my wishes. In the meantime I shall live fearlessly and travel the world with reckless abandon in pursuit of my dreams. Imagining the day when I will float down the Seine as colored pigments, travelling along the banks of my favorite arrondissements, then out to the sea, travelling freely as i did in life, without a need for visas or passports, the hassle of stupid airports security agents or confined to the timetables and schedules of commercial airlines. In death, I shall experience a true sensation of freedom, fuck a constitution or national/religious doctrine.
From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity...