DR Thursday

thoughts from the melange to give lift to your thursday

THISquarterearth interrupted I sharpened copy

this is a morsel of the painting Earth Interrupted I. Kerri calls this morsel Quarter Earth

I’d completely forgotten about this painting. It is so utterly different from everything else I’ve ever done that after I painted it I rolled it and never showed it. In truth, it was an experiment, something I didn’t at all take seriously. At the time, I was discontent with my paintings. I was bored and uninspired. I’ve worked long enough to recognize that my discontent signals an empty tank, a need to rejuvenate. Rest and refill the creative tank.

Earlier in my artistic life, these periods of emptiness caused me to panic. What if that’s it? What if I’ve lost my muse? What if my creative well is permanently run dry?  In my panic I’d try and force things to happen, which you can imagine, served only to magnify my empty-discontents. There’s nothing like a good panic, a deep investment in creative-lack-theory, to generate a serious case of artist block. It took me a while to learn that I run in cycles, just like the seasons, that my creative spring ebbs and flows. Blocks are not necessary.

Now, when I hit one of ‘winter’ phases, in addition to taking it easy, I’ve learned the best thing to do is play. Experiment. Loosen the grip, spin the dials, re-open the eyes. Leave the studio and pretend I’m Andy Goldsworthy, stack rocks, arrange leaves, take walks and photograph random textures. Make snowmen. Scribble with crayons.

The morsel for today’s melange is an ancient map of my long-ago play. Paper sacks and paint and palette knife scribbles. I usually throw these things away or paint over them. But, this painting, so utterly different, created so many years ago, must have whispered, “Wait. Just put me aside and wait. I have something for a future you.” I’m so glad I listened. At this very moment, drying in the studio, is Earth Interrupted II. Earth Interrupted III is on the easel and already Earth Interrupted IV is calling me.

earthInterruptedI copy

Earth Interrupted I, mixed media 48″x 53″

society 6 info jpeg copy

QUARTER EARTH MERCHANDISE

quarter earth FRAMED ART PRINT copy

quarter earth LEGGINGS copy

quarter earth TRAVEL MUG copy

quarter earth TOTE BAG copy

read Kerri’s DR Thursday thoughts

purchase the original painting, Earth Interrupted I

melange button jpeg copy

kerrianddavid.com

earth interrupted I & quarter earth ©️ 2012, 2018 david robinson & kerri sherwood

 

 

DR Thursday

editedcityscape morsel jpeg copy

This is a confession: for these blog posts, for these DR Thursdays, I’m finding the morsels of my paintings – a slice, a small detail – infinitely more interesting than the full painting. It’s not that I don’t love the whole painting, I do. But the morsels are helping me to see the original painting anew. The detail is illuminating the whole. Also, the morsel is spinning my artistic dials. I suspect my visual exploration is about to jump the fence into new pastures.

Kerri calls this morsel Cityscape. It comes from The Bass Player, a painting pulled from the deep recesses of my archive. It comes from a time when I was in love with vibrant color and the work of David Hockney. The Bass Player has lived in galleries, and coffee shops. It hung for many years in a now defunct bar in downtown Seattle.  More people have inquired about this painting than any other horse in my stable but it’s never found a forever home. I’m delighted that through this morsel, Cityscape, my colorful Bass Player has found another moment to step into the light. Who doesn’t need some color-pow! on a Thursday in March?

bassplayer sharpenedhighercontrast copy

The Bass Player, 24″ x 48″

CITYSCAPE merchanise

THIScityscape LEGGINGS copy

cityscape FLOOR PILLOW copy

cityscape FRAMED ART PRINT copy

THE BASS PLAYER reproductions

Purchase the original painting

read Kerri’s thoughts on Cityscape

melange button jpeg copy

kerrianddavid.com

cityscape ©️ 2018 david robinson & kerri sherwood

The Bass Player ©️ 2002 david robinson

Chicken Marsala Monday

fallingdown WITH EYES jpeg THIS COPYIf blocking  your creative arteries is the goal then there is no better illusion to consume than trying to be perfect. Eating the idea that you can be free of flaws or experience mastery without mistakes is guaranteed to clog your capacity to move. Notions of perfection turn the imagination toward the fear-monsters and breeds an especially severe  inner critic. Perfection is like the Medusa, give her your gaze and she’ll turn you to stone.

Imagination, creativity, learning, growing,…are words of movement. They are experiences of free flow. If investments like perfection crimp flow, then granting simple graces like trial and error, or “seeing what happens” will inevitably open the channel. Creative flow, like profound learning or wild imagination happens when inner-judges retire; it happens when nature is allowed to take its course. Nature is movement. Falling down is a necessary form of movement. Perfection is about appearances. Learning is about process.

From studio melange on this Chicken Marsala Monday comes this simple reminder. Try. Remove failure from the gallery of options. Get on the bike and ride. Expect to fall down. It’s the only way to learn how to stand up.

FALLING DOWN IS AN ESSENTIAL PART OF LEARNING merchandise

chicken falling down mug     chicken falling down pillow

kerrianddavid.com

check out Kerri’s thought’s on this Chicken Marsala Monday

falling down is an essential part of learning ©️ 2016 david robinson & kerri sherwood

 

 

 

DR Thursday

NapOnTheBeach

Nap on the Beach, mixed media, 22.25″ x 55.5″

“I paint the way some people write an autobiography. The paintings, finished or not, are the pages from my diary.” Pablo Picasso

I’ve been selling my paintings from my studio, un-stretched and unframed. When potential buyers come to my studio they view the raw canvas tacked on the wall or spread on the floor. Many of my pieces are big. It’s how I like to paint: big canvas stretched and tacked to the wall. These days when I ship paintings to another state, when I ship paintings to those courageous people who take the leap of faith and buy an expensive (and very personal) painting based on an image from the internet,  I roll them. They receive the piece in a tender unembellished state.

There are practical reasons for my seeming-shoddy showmanship. It saves my customers money to stretch and frame the canvases themselves. The cost of shipping a large framed canvas is breathtaking! If I stretch or frame it myself, if I sell a painting through any gallery, online or brick-n-mortar,  the cost is easily inflated by 70%.

But, that’s not why I show the unfinished edges. Before moving from my Seattle studio I had studio open houses. People inevitably drifted to the paintings stapled to the wall. They touched the edges. They asked me about the drips and marveled over the charcoal lines. They gently brushed the bumps of paint. They entered the story and became a part of it, they took on a role greater than witness. Instead of approaching art – my art – as an untouchable abstract thing, they engaged with it, questioned it, touched it. I loved it. Art is supposed to be accessible. It is supposed to open and say, “Follow me.”

Recently a client slid this painting, Nap on the Beach, from the pile of paintings stacked on the ping pong table, touched its complex surface, and, with Kerri, he held it by the corners saying, “Oh, this canvas is heavy! This one makes me yearn for summer!” And then he asked, “Did you take a nap on the beach? Is this about something you did?”

Yes. And yes again.

On DR Thursday, on your visit to the melange, I hope this painting inspires you to embrace the raw edges, the drips and bumps, and perhaps give over to a quiet mid-winter yearning for sun and sand and a spontaneous nap.

A NAP ON THE BEACH reproductions

nap on the beach framed print

framed art prints

nap on the beach art canvas

canvas prints

 

A NAP ON THE BEACH original

read Kerri’s thoughts on DR Thursday

kerrianddavid.com

a nap on the beach ©️ 2017 david robinson

 

 

 

Chicken Marsala Monday

juststart jpeg

High atop the list of obstacles we erect on our creative life path is this: I don’t know how…. As a coach, I heard it daily from clients. As a consultant, I heard it regularly from business leaders and educators (the pronoun changed: we don’t know how…) Artists regularly lock up in the face of a monstrous HOW?

When I was a young erector of massive obstacles in my path, Quinn would smile and say to me, “Nobody knows how. Just start.” I thought he was being flippant with encouragement but lived my way into recognizing that his advice was not only sound but it was sage.

Knowing how to do something is never a prerequisite for action. It is, however,  a really good excuse to prevent action.

Knowing how comes second. Always. It comes after the fact, after the experience of trying and adjusting and learning. It comes at the end of the day, looking back. That’s when “how” becomes visible. Today’s Chicken Nugget via the studio melange is timeless and simple advice. It would make Quinn smile: sometimes the best thing to do is start.

chicken just start mug


SOMETIMES THE BEST THING TO DO IS START merchandise

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check out KERRI’S thoughts on this CHICKEN NUGGET

chicken just start framed print

sometimes the best thing to do is start ©️ 2016 david robinson & kerri sherwood

 

 

 

KS Friday

It is one of the great pleasures of my life to be down in my studio painting when Kerri, upstairs in her studio, begins to play. I always stop and appreciate how rich, how utterly fortunate I am. There is more than just music in our house. There is a source, an amazing composer, a gifted musician. She plays like most people breathe and I marvel at the enormity and ease of her gift.

From the melange on this Valentine’s week comes a Slow Dance. It is from Kerri’s album As Sure As The Sun. Friday belongs to Kerri’s music. I am particularly fond of Slow Dance. It is visceral and reminds me of a summer evening, sitting in the adirondack chairs in the front yard, sipping wine and talking. We were listening to music and without really intending it, we began to dance. Fast dances, silly dances, rowdy-run-around-dances, and finally, laughing and exhausted, there came a slow dance. The neighbors still talk about it….

 

ASATS

Slow Dance from AS SURE AS THE SUN

KERRI SHERWOOD

[a note to consider: the links will by default take you to apple music – apple’s streaming service. With respect to artists everywhere, please consider downloading your music on itunes rather than streaming your music. It requires one additional click. Downloading means the artists get paid for their work. Streaming guarantees that they don’t.]

kerrianddavid.com

Slow Dance from As Sure As The Sun ©️ 2002 kerri sherwood

DR Thursday

EmbraceNow

[Held In Grace: Embraced Now, mixed media on canvas, 48″ x 36″]

Beaky showed me a photograph taken of Kerri and me early in our relationship. She said, “I like this one because your strong arms are holding my daughter.” I took her comment as a kind of blessing. It was her way of telling me, ‘This is right and good. In this embrace you two have found all that you will ever need.’

In the studio melange, Thursdays are for my paintings. I chose this painting as the first in our melange offerings because it came from Beaky’s sentiment. During this Valentine’s week, let this painting, Embraced Now, from my Held In Grace series, remind you, as it does me, that all is right and good. In this embrace you will find all that you will ever need. It’s not a shabby thought to help navigate through a Thursday!

HELD IN GRACE: EMBRACED NOW [art prints]

HELD IN GRACE: EMBRACED NOW [purchase the original]

kerrianddavid.com

 

held in grace: embraced now ©️ 2017 david robinson

 

 

Chicken Marsala Monday

We were 14 hours into a 17 hour drive when she asked the question. “If we’d had a child, what would we have named it?” After much laughter and too much coffee we settled on Chicken Marsala.  Chicken kept us awake for the rest of our drive.

No one can accuse us of not being productive. We are a creative melange of paintings, music, plays, books, children’s books, and, now, cartoons. For over a year we attempted to syndicate our strip, Chicken Marsala (the imaginary child of an aging couple…) and were met with much enthusiasm but not syndication. We produced months of strips and single panel nuggets (chicken strips and chicken nuggets. Titanic wit, yes?).

Brewed from our studio, from the pile of creative perseverance that is stacking up below and above the ping pong table that serves as our archive , we’ve decided to offer a daily blend of goodness, thought, laughter and beauty. It may come fresh off the press or it might be aged and, like Chicken Nuggets, it might be looking for some light. Art is made to share, not archive. Either way, welcome to the melange. Chicken’s day is Monday. This nugget has everything to do with Valentine’s week and a quiet reminder that the universe of feelings is so much bigger than words can possibly contain.

love needs no words jpeg copy.jpg

LOVE NEEDS NO WORDS

kerrianddavid.com

love needs no words ©️ 2016 david robinson & kerri sherwood

Think “And”

a second version, a second point of view of my painting Shared Fatherhood

I suppose it is the great trap in human nature to define life through oppositions. Was your experience good or bad? Are you liberal or conservative? Are you your brother’s keeper or is it every man for himself? Oppositions provide the illusion that there is a right way or a wrong way, that any issue can be reduced to a simplicity, a singular path. One way. Oppositions are great language devices for dictators and the righteous. They remove the grey tones and blunt the grey matter. With an opposition, us or them, “god” can be exclusively on your side (a small god, indeed) which self-grants permission for all manner of abuses enacted by “us” on “them.” The problematic word when employing oppositions is “or.”

“And” is a much more useful (and honest) term to employ when dancing with oppositions. Can you be your brother’s keeper AND take care of yourself? Certainly. Can you survive entirely by yourself without the participation of your brothers and sisters? Certainly not. No one lives in a vacuum; “or” is the great creator of illusory vacuums. “And” guarantees a conversation and perhaps a host of useful, challenging and robust perspectives. Both/And is always more functional than Either/Or.

AND the first version of Shared Fatherhood

The snag in “Or” is that there is very little truth in any reduction that ultimately lands on just One. This or that. All life is movement and all movement stops in One. Creative tension requires at least two points and a desire for someplace place to go. There is no single arrival station in real life. There is no achievement that stops all the presses. Every answer inspires new questions. Each question opens doors to multiple possibilities. Agreement is a fluid target at best and must be nurtured. Compromise is never an end state; it is a relationship imperative. Life is never found in the static “or.”

Do an experiment: go to the grocery store, choose any item and ask yourself how many people it took to bring your chosen item to the shelf at that moment. If you are not astounded by the complexity of participation, how dependent we are on actions of others, your imagination has most certainly failed you. Skip, entrepreneur extraordinaire and mentor to entrepreneurs taught me that a business cannot succeed until it serves its customer’s customer. Note the word “serves.” Businesses serve. Not simply a customer but the complexity of a customer’s customer. Entrepreneurism is a service to the creative genius of a community and multitudes of communities beyond.

Entrepreneurism, like artistry, ….even, yes, like governance…like all things vital, moving, complex and growing, live in service according to the good graces of AND. Anything else is a mirage.

 

 

 

Go Inward

a new painting perfect for winter and inward looking. it’s part of a set in my sacred series.

“The doctor may explain why the patient is dead, but never why the patient is alive.” ~Declan Donnellan

Once, tromping through a biodynamic vineyard, Barney explained to me that winter is the time for the energy of the vine to go to the root. The vine that appears dormant above ground is, in fact, actively recharging below the surface. The energy goes inward. The root rejuvenates, drinking in the minerals necessary for the new growth of the coming spring. The fruit of the summer is impossible without the rejuvenation of winter.

We are not so different from the vines though language can trick us into compartmentalizing, perceiving winter as distinct and separate from summer, the inhale as a separate action from the exhale, tides that ebb and then flow. Cycles of life have compartments in study but never in real life. The compartments are made up for the convenience of categorization and conversation.

These past few weeks we’ve been cleaning out our house, going through old boxes and files, shredding old bills, carrying furniture and computer carcasses to the curb. Old clothes are going away. Closets and bins are emptied. The house is beginning to breathe. There is space. Spaciousness. We are laughing at old pictures, sometimes cringing. This day’s new-found spaciousness inspires the next day’s cleaning rampage. It is invigorating. Rejuvenating.

and this is the other half of the set. winter has me looking inward and exploring simplicity in line and space.

Our cleaning tsunami wasn’t planned. Our computer crashed. Our work was interrupted. Our expression was limited. We complained and resisted and then turned our energies elsewhere. Inward. Going through and releasing old stuff, past lives, creating space, is rejuvenating. We are taking our time. We are going slowly. It is oddly restful.

Driving home from our walk in the woods, we laughed at ourselves. Mock-praising our virtuous cleaning, exaggerating and inflating our new found spaciousness to full spiritual illumination, we pretended we’d achieved life beyond wanting, living without yearning. Consciousness beyond compartments. Wiping laughter-tears from her eyes, Kerri said, “Wait! This could be boring! What is life without desiring some red wine while cooking dinner? What about the pleasure of yearning for morning coffee? With all this new found space….”