Sundial memes (continued)

Today I revisit the wisdom of sundial mottos. (See previous: Sundial memes) The process of linking mottos with images is satisfying, so I made a few more. The words stay with me. In particular, the Latin Mox nox, translated to English as Night, shortly or Soon comes night, is my favorite.

This axiom seems ominous, but I have come to see it as a practical exhortation. Life is fragile. What is there to do but revel in the here and now? It is all that we have. Tempus fugit.

The above image is what you get when you run a wood mill over a pile of ashes. That’s all there is. Remembrance of mortality helps me find a place of acceptance and peace.

Sunlight slowly fading over the ocean gives pronounced finality to the day. But not all sundial mottos refer to the abyss; some offer a note of vitality. This is a reminder that we are always moving: Vita in motu.

Requiesce in pace, P.S. 1924-2021

Sundial memes © 2021 JL Summa

Sundial memes

Death and mortality are strong themes in the human experience these days. As anyone does, I struggle with fear of illness, and how to even wrap my mind around our worsening situation in this global pandemic. Seeking humor and creative distraction can help to avoid becoming overwhelmed. I think about classic sundial mottos, their clever messages etched in stone, carved reminders of our inevitable end. I enjoy their humor and honesty.

My use of Impact typeface is a nod to internet memes. Memes are banal and relatable, and so are mottos about human mortality. Fusing the sometimes frivolous nature of the internet meme with the seriousness of our own annihilation is something that amuses me. It also gives me space to work with odd photos of horizons and reflections.

Sundial memes © 2020 JL Summa

Monday, August 21, 2017 / Madras, Oregon / Total solar eclipse

10:17 AM
10:20 AM

I love eclipse season, how they come in twos or threes. On this day of total solar eclipse across Patagonia, I think back to three years ago when I was living on the road and I passed through the high desert region of Madras, Oregon. I camped out at the airport with thousands of other pilgrims. I was not prepared for how mind-blowing it is to witness such an event. I was not prepared photographically, either—no tripod, no planning, just snapping blindly and free-handedly. Mouth agape, hyper-ventilating a bit, taking in the weird, shadowy, midday light, feeling the rapid drop in temperature, listening to the quietening of the birds and the whooping and hollering of humans spread out for miles across the dusty, smoky terrain. There is magic in syzygy.