As an artist, I usually get pretty excited about the Twitter Sunday Fish Sketch, a creative and fun way to participate with a great community of artists, scientists, and general fish and fishing enthusiasts. However, this week it took off for me in an altogether strange direction. The artist creative prompt was the following:
May 1st is #InternationalWorkersDay and I think we should sketch some hard working fishes for our #sundayfishsketch #fishytheme. What’s your idea of a hard working fish? A nest builder, a waterfall climber, a long-distance migrator? You be the judge! #sciart #fishyfriday
So Saturday night found me going to bed pretty thoughtfully contemplative of what I could draw. Perhaps a salmon who migrates lots of miles to spawn? Or a fish that builds extensive or intricate nests? How about one that works elaborate mating rituals to work his love into a frenzy of passion? My dreams and a good night sleep would decide.
Instead, I woke at 2 am in the morning in existential sweat. It is now May 1st. May Day. A day that many think about as a day to celebrate springtime or as an international day honoring the workers of the world. But for me it only sparked existential angst, no actually I felt in my core a sickening terror, of the reality of death and destruction and the craziness that is man’s inherent desire to find any path to destroy itself. I even dared to wake the wife to tell her what was happening and to risk poking that sleep-loving bear believe me it was bad what I was experiencing.
Because I am old enough to remember (yes, I am in my 7th decade of existence) that in the former Soviet Union (The old U.S.S.R. or Union of Soviet Socialist Republics), May Day was an occasion to honor Soviet workers' contributions with giant parades in Red Square. Televised on all the networks evening news on the TV. Those giant parades prominently featured the U.S.S.R.’s intercontinental ballistic missiles that Khrushchev promised he would be dropping on our heads any moment now. We practiced surviving these nuclear blasts sheltered by our somehow indestructible school desks, or the bomb shelters found in places like the library.
I had begun to believe the world had put those days behind us and then along comes the conflict in the Ukraine and all that passion to talk tough and use the “N” word is everywhere. I guess that makes me pretty stupid to believe that people don’t really want to destroy the entire planet over some disputed land or resources, and even more so that we are ok to fund a war but not push to negotiate a peaceful end. Wouldn’t billions be better off putting to solve through peaceful approaches?
However I don’t like it, Mr. Musk is pretty spot on when he reminds us that the governments “have the sole monopoly on violence” and seem to be unwilling to let go of feeling the need to use on the people.
So writing this is helping me to process how broken this world remains but I went ahead and did a drawing to try to calm the anxiety of the day. I chose to draw a sturgeon. A survivor over time. An aged dweller of the water it resides in. It gave food to us humans with its flesh and as caviar. And I am told some of the best caviar came from areas of the old U.S.S.R., now threatened to be obliterated.
Here is my drawing, done on an old dictionary page, where sturgeon are described.
Posts
