Be A Part Of The Wind [on KS Friday]

part of the wind songbox copy

I am a sturdy proponent of The Paris Theory. I made it up so it only follows that I am a stalwart adherent. The Paris Theory goes like this: if you try to get to Paris you will end up in Kansas City every time; the fastest way to Paris is to shoot for Kansas City.

A quick read of The Paris Theory implies that Kansas City is a lesser destination but that’s to miss the point entirely. The point? Adventure, rich vibrant experience, is available everywhere. And, most often, the richest experiences come along because “the plan” collapsed, the plane was diverted, the seat reassigned. In The Paris Theory, Paris is not a place. It is an orientation to experience. The quickest way to Paris is to recognize that there is no greater or lesser place – especially when you are standing in it. Open. Look around. Art and life and love and danger and interesting people, food…vital experiences are everywhere.

Artists steal ideas and I must now confess that The Paris Theory is ancient. I slapped some shiny new lipstick on it to make it my own.

We are here for such a short time. The winds blow us here and there. Sometimes it feels like we are in control, bobbing along, but then strong winds come and push us in new directions. How much time do we spend wishing we were some other place and miss where we are? How much time do we delude ourselves into thinking there will be a firm and lasting resolution? An arrival? The winds never stop blowing. As Kerri said [and so beautifully composed], “We are part of the wind.”

 

PART OF THE WIND on the album BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL is available on iTunes & CDBaby

 

read Kerri’s blog post about PART OF THE WIND

 

ChasingBubbles (full) copy

The Paris Theory = Chasing Bubbles

 

gate f8 website box copy

part of the wind/blueprint for my soul ©️ 1996 kerri sherwood

chasing bubbles ©️ 2019 david robinson

Bend It [on DR Thursday]

county sketch copy

The terminology in art reads like so much poetry. Zero point perspective. Chiaroscuro. Foreshortening. Rococo. Image plane. Vanishing point. Oblique projection. Intaglio. It goes on and on, these tasty and magical words.

They should be poetry. They describe fields of possibility. They attempt to codify the making of illusion or the impulse of an explorer. Bending space. Deconstructing and reconstituting. Perceptual distinctions. The visual language of cultural norms.

There has been for centuries a mathematics of art. Optics and relativity, movements in science that have their conjoined artistic twins. Rebellions. The maintenance of form. Rules and rule breakers.

I sat in on a class taught by a master artist. He was a lover of landscape (another yummy word) and taught his students an earth-shattering lesson: reality, like time, cannot be caught. It’s a fools errand to try. Painting is a conversation. It is an infinite game. Bend space. Move the tree. Color is fluid, moving, never fixed.  Be like color. Play. Discover. Transform.

I do not consider myself a landscape painter. And then I remember the master teacher and I remove the word ‘landscape’ from my vernacular. And then, suddenly, there is a universe of movement, color, light, and shapes to bend.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about a LANDSCAPE SKETCH

 

Newborn copy

newborn. deconstruction. reconstitution.

 

coffee cups in scion website box copy

 

newborn /landscape sketch ©️ 2019 david robinson

 

 

Admire Them [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

barnacle tree 1 copy

 

Andy Goldsworthy might have created this tree. The limbs pressing through burls, a tree grown sturdy and beautiful, made unique by its wounds.  It is a monument to resilience.

Tom, an educator the entirety of his life, told me that he was again and again astounded by the resilience he saw in children. They inspired him. Their hurt swirling into a burl,  giving them fuel to rise. Their struggles and fortitude driving their teacher to be better.

In the art gallery, the woodworker told us about his work. He lifted the bowls to show the unique grains, the live edges and imperfections. In every piece, the beauty was once a blemish.

There are many, many trees in our beloved Bristol Wood. Inevitably it is the burl trees, the oddities, that call us to stop for a visit and admire them.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about the BURL TREE

 

MayYou copy

may you: a painting/prayer spoken to life’s burls

 

 

alice's restaurant, california websitebox copy

may you ©️ 2014 david robinson