Image Courtesy of Joseph Awuah Darko.
What makes life worth living is the inevitability of death. Abundance dulls value; endings define meaning. To live and to die—two sides of the same cycle. And yet, they are not viewed as equals. Death remains the defining factor of life’s worth, seen only as an abrupt stop rather than a continuation. But what if dying was simply another way of living?
Euthanasia is legal in ten countries worldwide, including the Netherlands. Joseph Awuah-Darko, an artist, moved from London to the Netherlands for one reason: to legally end his life due to his chronic bipolar disorder. The decision was not impulsive. It was a long process—one he approached with the same reverence as an artist crafting their final piece. His current project, The Last Supper, is an homage to life itself, not a rejection of it.
Image Courtesy of Joseph Awuah Darko.
By August of this year, Joseph will have shared 183 last suppers—each one with a stranger. The name of the project carries a religious weight, a nod to his Catholic upbringing. Yet, another layer of inspiration comes from death-row meals, a ritual tied to involuntary endings. Joseph acknowledges the paradox but remains captivated by the concept. At its core, though, The Last Supper Project stems from a more personal place: “I’ve always described myself as a closeted foodie, someone who secretly adored food but hesitated to fully embrace it. Now, at this final stage of my life, I want to experience it as deeply as possible,” he shares. Food has always been a mirror of identity and culture, and with every shared meal, Joseph steps into another person’s world. These last suppers feel less like a farewell and more like a tribute—a celebration of life through its most universal ritual.
Before meeting Joseph, the thought of ending one’s life felt heavy. But as we spoke, the weight lessened. He approached the topic with an ease that made it feel almost ordinary. Perhaps because, in his eyes, choosing death is an act of freedom. He spoke about the procedure with such clarity and pragmatism that there was no doubt—his mind was made up.
Euthanasia, like any medical procedure, follows a bureaucratic path. The steps are defined, the waiting periods deliberate. Joseph has met others on the same journey, some resolute, some hesitant, and some who have changed their minds entirely. He describes the experience as humbling, each encounter leaving an imprint, each story a quiet revelation. How do you remain steadfast in a decision so absolute? Joseph’s mind is set, but he remains open to what he might learn at the end of his journey.
Image Courtesy of Joseph Awuah Darko.
Since December when he made his decision to legally end his life, Joseph has been documenting his journey on Instagram, each step unfolding in real time. His posts do not read like an obituary in progress; his reflections are not filled with bitterness but with a deep understanding of existence. Scrolling through his page, one finds an unexpected tenderness—he does not hate life. “I believe life as a phenomenon is worth living—just not mine. I cherish life. I cherish the people in my life. I think life should be sacred”, he reflects.
Life is nuanced, never black and white. For some, Joseph’s choices feel too abstract, too far removed from their own understanding. But his social media presence is not an invitation for debate—it’s a vessel for his own self-expression. “No one has to consume what I post. I share what I share purely as my way of understanding myself and making sense of things through long-form or short-form video. And that’s what it means to me, to be perfectly honest. It’s Instagram“, he states matter-of-factly.
The theme of autonomy runs through every part of his existence. Another overlooked aspect of his page is its educational intent—Joseph uses his platform as a tool to raise awareness about non-violent euthanasia. To him, dignity and safety remain most important. Many who attempt to end their own lives do so in desperation, often facing severe complications if unsuccessful. Legal euthanasia, he argues, is about ensuring a humane passage.
Image Courtesy of Joseph Awuah Darko.
Raised Catholic, I ask Joseph if he fears death. His answer is simple: no. Probably also because now, Joseph defines himself to be more spiritual than religious.
“I’ve lived a very wholesome life, and I’m simply not afraid of my own demise. Especially if it’s going to be painless,” he continues to explain. Quoting Jane Goodall he adds: “Death is life’s next great adventure. If there’s something, there’s something, and if there’s nothing, we just go back to nothingness.”
As death and life remain inseparably linked, I ask Joseph if his decision to end his life has changed the way he lives. He answers with quiet certainty:
“I try to be more present, and I have less patience for small talk. At the end of the day, I’m more aware of my time—knowing that time is my most valuable asset.”
It seems that Joseph moves through life with a sharper clarity than most. Perhaps this is why his choice unsettles people—not because of its finality, but because of the radical freedom it represents. I share this thought with him and he adds that the idea that someone could take full control of their own existence might be the trigger. He recognizes how his decision may appear almost effortless, even casual, to an outsider.
Image Courtesy of Joseph Awuah Darko.
In a true artist manner he calls death his final act. Naturally, I assume The Last Supper Project to be his ultimate creation—but he gently corrects me. Death itself, he says, is a project of its own.
The Last Supper Project will eventually take the form of a printed book, an archive of the people who animated his dinners, their presence preserved in the recipes they shared. It is his way of honoring them, of granting them a kind of immortality.
As he speaks, my mind is stuck with the word immortality. In dying, Joseph ensures something of him remains—a lasting imprint, a testament to his belief that death is not an ending, it’s his way of living.