Deadline

This word carries a strange sort of weight, doesn’t it? It found me quite by accident. The idea for this piece came out of nowhere—just like deadlines often do.

It all started with a conversation about a project. Ilze and I were chatting about photoshoots and models. Poor thing was sighing about how she’d get to it right after her school deadlines. But then there were more deadlines after that. “Why is this word haunting me? Deadline, deadline, deadline!” she exclaimed.

Naturally, I joked, “Well, I’ll just make the word ‘DEADLINE’ out of hair for you—so you can hang it in your studio as a constant reminder that you always meet your deadlines.”

That’s when the idea became real.

I began by scribbling the word "DEADLINE." Doodling, sketching, playing with the shape of the letters. The “L” had to have waves—because Ilze loved the wavy details in the costume I made her once. It just felt right.

Next, I transferred the design onto a piece of PVC plastic to serve as my guide. The more I worked with it, the more I loved how it all was falling into place. Some of the long lines were pure happy accidents. I stuck the hair to the plastic, then saturated it with water and strong-hold hair gel. Let it dry, peeled it off, cleaned up the edges—and voilà!

Now, the base.

Initially, I thought: “Simple white background.” But of course, I forgot to buy any. The only thing I had on hand was a panel my daughter had already painted a soft brown. Honestly, she’s got a great eye, so I rolled with it.

On the table were my newly bought metallic paints—one a vivid green, the other a rich gold. The green was perfect: Ilze had worn a bright green top for her school graduation, so it felt like a personal touch. Then came some gold strokes. A few splashes here and there. Just enough chaos. The base was done.

Time to transfer the word. Originally, I thought of using epoxy—but right there in front of me was Aileen’s Tacky Glue. I figured, “Why not?” It turned out to be the perfect choice—it gave the letters a soft, smooth finish. I let it air dry overnight.

Now all that’s left is to deliver it to Ilze.

But let’s get back to the word: DEADLINE.

The more I thought about it, the more it began to resonate on a deeper level.

What is a deadline, really? To freelancers, creatives, and artists, it’s that looming date on the calendar. The moment everything must be done. It’s the invisible finish line we set for ourselves in planners and project outlines.

Even invoices have deadlines—especially in this capitalist world of ours. Miss them, and you’re slapped with late fees. Tell yourself, “I’ll pay it later,” and you end up throwing extra money into the void. Deadlines for debt. Deadlines for dreams. Deadlines everywhere.

But here's the philosophical twist:
What if we knew our ultimate deadline?
Like, really knew it. The final one. The end.

Would we be more productive? More kind? Less greedy?

Because power-hungry people often act as if they’ll live forever. As if control and consumption will somehow buy them immortality. Greed becomes an addiction—something to fill the emptiness that never goes away.

But if every person knew their deadline from the start—if it was printed on our birth certificates, clear as day—what would change?

Would we waste less time?
Would we love harder?
Would we create more and consume less?

hmmm....