Time Debates with Decay
There is a genre of still life painting popular especially with the 16th century Dutch called the Memento Mori or Vanitas. Emblems of death were part of the objects in the still life, along with symbols of the passage of time, the loss of all things ephemeral, and the vanity of youth. It was a reminder of our mortality, and not to be too in love with anything temporary.
There’s a legend that generals from ancient Rome, while parading the streets after a victorious campaign, were whispered to by a slave, “Memento mori,” or, “Remember you will die.” It was a sensible (if a bit overly dramatic) way to keep an ego in check.
My raccoon painting employs objects typical of the genre. The skull is the most oft-included subject, with its obvious representation of death.
Books and brushes are the tools of the artist, a reminder that our skills and talents will leave us, too. Tarot cards are a token of the whims of fate.
Short-lived creatures suggest a fleeting existence, and clocks and candles hint at the passage of time.
A mirror is the mark of vanity that says, “Your beauty is transient, don’t hang on.”
I chose the raccoon as the keeper of the scene because of his mask. Sometimes a Vanitas does include a mask, representing the impermanent personas we wear in our lives. (The real reason for the raccoon’s mask is that it absorbs light around the eyes so it can see better at night, which seemed like it fit in metaphorically, somehow.)
I love how the Vanitas doesn’t hold back on a powerful reminder. It is the whisper of the slave, saying, “What’s really important?”
When I draw this card, I feel force-grounded, in a good way. I get reined in by the prompt: this action, these things, thoughts, and feelings are not my ground. They’re OK, but where do I want my base camp of presence set up?
It brings me back to awareness of the moment. I stop, breathe, notice the moment (for as long as it takes to pull me into presence) and then I can better allow the impermanent movings of my mind, speech, and body to arise from a place more connected with the permanent, the divine, the ground of being.
Longer immersions into absorbed states of presence establishes me deeper into the place and perspective that never fades, and is unchangeable, indestructible, eternal, and inherently joyful. Then, when engaged with daily life, I’m not quite as powerfully adhered to the solidity of the fleeting expressions of myself, including my body.
This is the true meaning of the Memento mori. It reminds of the suffering that worldly attachment brings, and leaves us with a question. To what do I owe my attention, if not the things I “love” the most? Maybe not all painters of the Vanitas cared about the answer, but I do.
I owe my attention to that which underlies the worldly, so that the worldly can be seen and operated as a backseat companion, not the driver. My work is to practice (because it takes practice) to free myself from a concrete belief in the non-concrete, and to grow my trust and time spent in the state of my true, eternal nature.
