Stir It [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on January 16, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

Kerri explained to the woman at the shop that she rarely uses things for their intended purpose. For instance, we have a collection of old coffee pots that she uses as canisters in the kitchen. The end-table beside our couch is the drawer section of an old desk. It was sawed-off when she found it. Our walls sport old window frames and screen doors. We have a stack of old suitcases that we call “special boxes”. They hold the memorabilia of our life together: programs to performances, adventure day train tickets, cards from friends…

Things used as other things. It’s the hallmark of a creative mind. It’s the joy of her creative mind.

At the time, she wasn’t sure what she was going to do with the chunk of concrete. She just knew it had to come home with us. The woman at the shop had no idea what the chunk of concrete was originally used for – and the mystery made it more attractive to Kerri. It was signed and dated on the bottom. More mystery. More attraction. “What are we going to do with it?” I asked, wondering if I could actually lift it into the truck.

“I don’t know yet,” her eyes sparkled, the imagination-wheels turning. “Something.”

“Something,” I gasped, hoisting the chunk of concrete to the tailgate of the truck. I was grateful that it was round and rolled it the rest of the way into the bed. “You are something. You will be used for something.” I sat on the tailgate, catching my breath as Kerri and the woman disappeared into the shop to look at things-used-for-other-things.

I remembered once, running a spotlight for a show, the light broke mid-performance and I fixed it between cues with a frostie cup from Wendy’s, duct tape, and the sleeve of a jacket. It’s a valuable skill in the theatre: things used as other things. Ask any prop-master. The entire art form is recognizing the multitude of potential uses inherent in the most mundane objects.

My artist group once challenged me to explore beyond of my known art form so I sculpted crows from found objects. Wood, clamps and wire hangers. I loved it. It stirred my imagination.

Stirring the imagination. It’s what I appreciate about the home Kerri creates. Nothing is what it was intended to be. Everything is a wonder and can be transformed. Even a chunk of unidentifiable concrete. After a move into the house that made me appreciate the toil involved in building the pyramids, the chunk of concrete has now met its destiny. It is a side table and sports an old-school iPod sounddock. It couldn’t be more perfect. “I love it,” she says every day.

Me, too.

read Kerri’s blogpost about the CHUNK OF CONCRETE