Posted on December 30, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative
As someone who’s never had to navigate the horrors of an underwire bra, I find myself distinctly unqualified to make a comment. And, as someone male, who’s never had to navigate the horrors of an underwire bra, I find silence-on-the-subject is by far the wisest choice.
I can, however, completely understand the resolution to live each day with less pain. The less pain and discomfort the better! I’ll join Kerri in that resolution! Literally or metaphorically, go wireless or go home!
Posted on December 29, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative
“The world is changed by your example, not by your opinion.” ~ Paulo Coelho
And so we tie up another year according to the latest iteration of the Roman calendar. As is customary on the waning days of the year, we look back and review where we’ve been, who we’ve lost, and attempt to measure our progress toward any number of goal posts. We affix an adjective or two to the passing year; “It was a good year.” Or, “It was a bad year.” A rough year. A surprising year. It’s the time of experience-reduction and encapsulation. It’s the time of renewal as we step over the imaginary line with an imaginary clean slate.
We wish each other a happy new year. I’ve been wondering what the world would look like if the wish had some teeth. What would we do on the first day of the new year – and every day after – if it was more than a passing wish; if it was our imperative to make certain that each person in our community, in our lives, would have a happy year. Happiness as a shared responsibility. How might that change our choices? How might that fulfill the ubiquitous ideal to “lead by example”? To live by example.
I know. Another pie-in-the-sky post. But I would offer this thought from my personal year-in-review: I am surrounded by people who have made my well-being their personal concern. And, I haven’t the first idea how to reciprocate in a meaningful way except to pay it forward in any way possible. To live my life according to their example.
So, was it a hard year? Yes. Oh, god, yes. Was it an extraordinary year? Yes. Unbelievable. Am I moving forward with a clean slate? A fresh beginning? No. Not a chance. The baggage is coming with me.
Except there will be this: when I throw my confetti into the air and toot a horn of celebration, wearing my funny hat, I will step across the line in full knowledge and with a full heart, a new imperative beyond the sing-song wish of a Happy New Year. I will have an example to follow that completely transforms the once-yearly-ritual-wish into a daily-lived-action.
It’s not pie-in-the-sky, after all. It’s about time we create what we always wish for.
Posted on December 28, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative
A full year has passed since the software company closed its doors. It was a great adventure, a kayak ride atop the raging river of information in the whirling world of knowledge management.
As I have entered every organizational “job” in my life, I entered the wild kingdom of software development through an art door. I created a simple cartoon series for the founder – clickbait – each cartoon ending on the phrase, “There must be a better way”. It was a riot of fun. The cartoons would have been used had we reached the point of marketing our creation.
As has always been the case, once in the door, my work morphs into something systemic. I have an eye for “the big picture.” I see how things move, I see pattern, and easily grok the morass of human dynamics. Mostly, I see the lies organizations tell themselves and either help them sort it out or, of necessity, they must sort me out. Sometimes the lie is the glue that holds the rickety ship together.
It creates an interesting paradox to enter as an artist and then be invited to speak to the “serious” machinations of the organization. As an artist, although initially valued for my (in)sight, what I see is most often discounted because…I’m an artist. Until later. Much later. Too late. I’ve had superintendents and CEOs chase me out the door and a year later offer me the key-to-the-kingdom if only I would come back. The rule is to never go back. I did that once, so puffed up and proud with “I told you so.” Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. Organizational lies grow like monsters in the swamp and no Cassandra story every ends well.
And so, my cartoon series remains. It lives in a folder with the many others I’ve developed. I’m fond of this series because Kerri joined in the fun. She took my old-school pen and ink work and added some whacky photoshop elements. She digitized my good work and made the visual story better. “Go away,” she’d insist when I brought her the drawing. I’d return a few hours later and laugh heartily at the transformation. “Do you like it?” she’d ask, surprised. “Really?”
Yes. Really.
The work is not wasted. Though the software company is gone, the good humor, the great collaboration and laughter live on and on.
Posted on December 27, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative
“Art is human. Error is human. Art is error.” ~ David Bayles & Ted Orland, Art & Fear
I adore all three parts of this syllogism. Just don’t ask me if the reasoning is inductive or deductive since the three characters in the play are suspiciously unreasonable: Art, Humans, and Error. Applying reason to the unreasonable seems dubious for the get-go. In a world of rationalizing the irrational, who cares if the path is general to specific or vice-versa?
We made Christmas dinner at Craig’s house last night. Since he is nose-to-the-grindstone trying to make a career from his music, we talked about what he is experiencing. What he is learning. “It’s hard,” he said. Kerri smiled, knowingly. Yes. The music industry is Hard. Art-making is a joy. Making a viable career of art-making is akin to pushing a rock up a steep hill and never reaching the top. Sisyphus. No joy. Despite common stereotypes, no one works harder than artists-with-a-passion. “Talent and hard work is no guarantee that you’ll make it,” he said, sharing a recent revelation.
Trial and error. I’m currently writing a play and each day I remind myself of John Guare’s famous observation: you have to write ten bad pages to arrive at one good page. In other words, error making is the path. Any master craftsperson can tell you that. Make enough errors and you’ll eventually develop a wee-bit-of-discernment. What works. What does not. Discernment does not stop the error-making, it embraces it. It uses it.
I asked Craig if his definition of “good” had changed in the many months that he’s been producing and performing music. What is good work now relative to good work last year? His answer tickled me. His observation is ubiquitous to all creative pursuits. What seemed good last year often looks like doggerel this year. “I can’t believe I released that track,” he said. It’s a very good sign. He’s stacking his errors. He’s developing discernment. That, too, is a life-long pursuit, a steep climb with no top. Van Gogh looked back at his early work and wrinkled his nose.
So hope-full. The courage to follow an inner imperative. Honoring an undeniable impulse makes no sense. Intuition-listening. Eschewing illusions like “perfection” for a more gritty heart-filled error-strewn path. A more realistic human path, riddled with blunders and happy accidents. Now, isn’t that a lovely paradox! So honest. So art-full.
Kerri asked, “What does this post have to do with the pink ornament?” My answer: “These are the very pink thoughts I hang every day on my thought-tree.”;-)
Posted on December 26, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative
Last week I saw a suit in a store that was frighteningly similar to the burgundy tuxedo I wore to my junior prom. Fear not, there are photos of a youthful me in my clothing-abomination that you will never see. I refuse to blackmail myself. I generally avoid ridicule unless I’m in the mood to perform a prat-fall.
Beauty is not a fixed idea. Nor is it unique enough to be held in the single eye of any one beholder. Beauty is shared. Communal. And the community is restless. It cycles through contour and color and pattern expectation. Each year a new style born of reaction against the previous styles. When I look at photographic proof of my willing-wearing of a horrific burgundy tux, I shake my head and think, “What was I thinking?” A better question would be, “What were we thinking?” At the time, I thought my tux was cool. My pal, Oz, wore a powder blue tux and strutted his blue-ness all prom-long.
The fashion cycle always returns to itself. The fabrics are improved (less petroleum) but the style is textbook. What’s new is old and what’s old is new. I stood in the store utterly agog at a full rack of wine colored suits. Laughter-tears streamed from my eyes though I can’t be sure I wasn’t reacting to the shock of terrible print patterns on the stacks and stacks of shirts. Terrible to me; beautiful to the other festive and frantic shoppers.
I’ve spent hours staring at our tree. The fragile glass ornaments reach back into the 1940’s and 50’s. They mirror the shape of cars from the era. Appliances, too. Light fixtures. Do you remember the spaceships of Buck Rogers or the marionettes of Space Patrol? The ornaments are Shiny Brites. Massed produced but decorated by hand. They were all the rage in their time. The shapes and story inspire me. That’s how the cycle works.
This year the Shiny Brites are all the rage in our home. Beautiful in our time. What’s old is new. What’s new is old.
Posted on December 25, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative
As additions-to-traditions go, the bauble-on-the-tree is a relatively recent inclusion. People have decorated their dwellings with pine boughs, a symbol of renewal and rebirth (of the light), for many, many centuries. Placing ornaments-on-trees only began in the 1800’s.
We decided this year – for reasons that reach beyond words – to bring out Beaky and Pa’s ornaments. We are minimalists mostly so in the decade of my Wisconsin life these ornaments have lived in a box in the basement. We look at them every year but have never – until now - hung them on a tree. They are glass and fragile so we worked slowly, placing them with care.
Having them with us this season has been more powerful than I imagined. Having them with us this morning is more meaningful than I thought possible. Family is with us. And, isn’t that, after all is said and done, the point of it all? Given family and chosen family. To feast our long line of belonging and celebrate our brief time on this earth together. To honor that we are, as Jean Houston wrote, “…the burning point of the ancestral ship.” To gather, adding to the rich bank of shared memory. We reach back in time with gratitude. We live forward through our children and their children and their children…
This morning we sit quietly, sipping our coffee, sharing stories, hanging out with Beaky and Pa, in our recognition and deep appreciation of this time of life’s Renewal.
Posted on December 23, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative
We sit squarely in the center of a community of generosity. At night, when we turn out all the lights except those wrapped around our many holiday trees, we close our eyes and breathe it in. We feel it. The quiet grace. The kindness. The support. The friendship.
Earlier this year, traveling through our metaphoric miles of very rough road. Kerri said, “We should lean into the light more.” That’s why we sit in the twinkling light of the trees, eyes closed. We feel the light.
Posted on December 22, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative
When I was a wee-turnip I found a textbook on the shelf from a course my dad took in college. Comparative religions. It’s a big-big book full of many-many comparisons. It now resides on my shelf. This book sparked a life-long fascination for me. The universal nature of myth and story across individual cultures and how these stories and symbols are, over time, pulled and twisted like taffy, co-opted, integrated and sometimes claimed as the private property of religion x or y.
Today, as I write this, we sit squarely on the solstice. I thought a few tidbits of story-symbol might be fun to visit so, together, we might taste the taffy.
In Italian tradition, La Befana is the goddess of the solstice. She rides a broom through the skies leaving candy and presents to the good little boys and girls. As a broom-riding pagan goddess, she predates Saint Nick by more than a few centuries. The Christian tradition snagged her and after a bit of twisting, she became a character in the Magi story. On a cold, cold night she gave shelter to those three wise-men but declined to join them on their quest because she had unfinished chores. After they left she had a change of heart but couldn’t find the manger on her own so she gave the gifts she had in tow to the nice children she met during her manger-search.
On the solstice, the goddess Isis gave birth to her son Horus, the sun god. Leta gave birth to Apollo on the solstice. The Persian god of light, Mithra, was born on the solstice. These births were technically virgin births since the conception in every case was immaculate. Egyptian. Greek. Persian. These stories predate the Christian story by centuries. It’s a ripple across time and culture of the same human impulse: after a long dark season to celebrate the return of the light.
We lose more than we know when we – to borrow a great term from Joseph Campbell – concretize a symbol. The stories and myths are meant to open us to greater unity with each other and the world we share. They are not meant to be taken or understood literally. Holding them literally slams the door on their greater meaning and unifying power. It renders them a possession, a plot point on a map.
On this winter solstice I can imagine no greater gift to this divided world than to recognize we are, through our unique symbols and characters, telling the same story, yearning for the same possibilities, sharing the same ideals whether they soar through the air on a broomstick or in a sleigh, both rides brimming with toys for good girls and boys. We borrow each others best ideas and ideals, rewriting them to fit our unique audience. From Isis and Horus to Mary and Jesus, it’s time once again to celebrate the rich warm return of the light through our myriad forms and cultural traditions, to feel the push and pull of something ancient and deeply human. Together.
Posted on December 21, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative
Walking on our trail in the middle of December, we rounded a corner and stopped. The dramatic shadows of the trees made long and distinct by the low-to-the-horizon winter sun. “It’s mid-December,” she said, “And the grass is green…” Looking at the photograph I’d guess that it was taken on an early spring day. In the era of climate change, it’s not so hard to see the story behind the story of this green, green grass.
What’s the story behind the story? There’s always a deeper story to tell. Always.
On my easel is a canvas marked with a few charcoal lines. A bare-sketch of two people and a puppy. The story? On a rainy fall day, driving the back county roads, Kerri and I rescued a puppy. It was lost and scared.
The story behind the story? When we saw the puppy we had a long drive ahead of us. We were trying to get to Madison. We spotted it at a crossroads. Turn right and go to the puppy. Turn left and keep our appointment in Madison. We turned left. And then in one swirling circle motion, immediately turned around. The first impulse: we’re late! This is not ours to do. The second impulse: who cares! this is exactly ours to do. The moment the shivering-scared soaked puppy jumped into our arms, nothing else in the world mattered. Nothing. The superficial dropped away and the essential came roaring into focus.
We named him County Rainy Day. Rainy for short. We dried him off and fed him crackers. He didn’t have a collar so we called Jen and asked her what to do. We played and laughed and snuggled with him in the cab of the truck. Finally, after giving our hearts to the puppy, we took Rainy to a shelter. He was reunited with his family.
I confess, we’ve returned to the spot where we found him. Just in case. He stole our hearts but more importantly, he brought us to our hearts. There is always a moment of choice. Turn left. Turn right. The list or the life? Behind each act of kindness is a moment of choice. Behind each act – of any kind – is a moment of choice. The story behind the story.
a detail of a sketch. a work barely in-progress. county rainy day
Posted on December 20, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative
A lifetime ago my live-work space was above a movie theatre. It was once an office space but somewhere along the way it was converted it into a quirky living space. The largest room had 16ft ceilings and an expanse of wall where I could staple canvas. I loved it. I painted up a storm in that space.
It had been vacant for a long time. I imagine most people took one look and ran away screaming. It needed a serious cleaning. It needed some attention and a few fixes. It needed someone with imagination to see the possibilities. Mostly, it needed some life and energy infused into it.
I put candles everywhere. At that time I painted at night, after the city went to sleep. I had a ritual to begin my work: turn off the light in every room but the studio, light the candles, choose my music, sit far away from my canvas for a few moments until I heard the call, and then begin. Usually I blew out the candles after sunrise, the work session ended with the awakening of the day.
Working after the world went to bed was my pattern for years. It started when I was a child. The house grew quiet. After my parents, brothers and sister tucked into sleep, I’d light a candle, turn on the light, and paint on the wall. There was nothing more comforting or inspiring to me than the quiet of the night, a candle or two for company, and a blank canvas calling me out to play.
Hans told me that “Everyone has their heaven.” Last night, deep into the night, as I lay in bed and listened to the chimes make sweet music of the howling wind, I was suddenly thrust back in time to my movie-theatre-studio, to a particular era in my life, I could feel the candles and the quiet of the night, a brush in my hand…my perfect heaven.
The Direction of Intention 