Expect Surprise [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on September 14, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

Hiding in the cornfield that currently grows beneath our bird feeder is a sweet morning glory. The pop of pale blue drew our attention. “Where did this come from?” I asked. “Maybe a morning glory seed was mixed in with the bird seed.”

Kerri rolled her eyes. “Maybe a bird brought it,” she said.

“A landscaping bird!” I reveled. “The blue accent does wonders for the corn.”

The surprise morning glory reminded me of the frogs that used to appear from nowhere in our little pond. There are very few routes to our pond that don’t include a ride on a bird or other form of critter transport. I can’t imagine the frogs made a dedicated pilgrimage to our pond though that’s not a bad idea for a children’s book. It’s been a few years since we had a surprise-frog-in-residence and we miss them.

Cultivate your surprise. It was among the teachable notions that the younger version of me used to peddle to clients. Cubicle sitting, rote learning, the daily grind…can dull your eyes and lead you to believe that today is just like yesterday. It’s not. Frogs appear in ponds. Pale blue calls from the corn. Insights come. People smile and offer a hand. Old friends appear from nowhere.

In one of the social streams I read that entering the day with a simple shift of language, from “today I have to” to “today I get to”, can change your world. The power of language is the power of perception. Decide what you see. Entering a mystery is much more fun than stepping into a rerun. The same idea bubbles beneath cultivating surprise. Expect each day to be filled with surprise. Look for it and you will find it. A pop of blue in the corn. A frog from nowhere. An opportunity knocking. Where will the next surprise come from?

I couldn’t help myself. This is Eve. 48x48IN, Acrylic on panel. A surprise apple;-)

read Kerri’s blogpost about MORNING GLORY

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Give It Shape [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on September 7, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

Learning to draw begins – or it did for me -with seeing shapes. Cones and squares and spheres. Shape is the first illusion to acquire.

Lately, I am spending an inordinate amount of time revisiting “beginnings.” My beginnings. Our beginnings. We open bins long stashed in the basement, the musty vaults securing evidence of our passage. We dig through the artifacts and discuss what gave us shape.

Important people shaped us. Many unimportant people shaped us, too. Circumstance and serendipity chipped away the stone that now reveals who we think we are. Shape, I am learning, is as much about what we hold onto as what we determine to let go. At long last setting down a closely held burden creates inner space, shape by another name. Picking up the burden of another to help them with their load necessitates a change of shape inside and between.

I recently decided that it was time to go back to basics. I have my sketchbook close at hand. I’m paying attention to shape, both inside and out. I wonder what I have forgotten about shape and what I need to re-member. If shape, in all its permutations, is the first illusion to acquire, I suspect it is also the last illusion we learn to release.

Some themes remain incomplete. I’ve painted this series-of-shapes over and over again.

my online gallery

read Kerri’s blogpost about SHAPES

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See The Spiral [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on August 31, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

20 asked if we saw the milky way when we were living on the island. As seen from space, two arms spiraling from a center. A spiral of billions of stars. From our seat on the island, as is true from most places on earth on cloudless nights, we saw the milky haze.

John and I often discussed the Fibbonacci sequence. The numbers of spirals, the keeper of the golden ratio. “It’s everywhere in nature,” he said. “We just don’t see it.”

Spirals in the stars. Spirals in the seeds of sunflowers. Macro to micro, through-and-through. And how is it that we routinely miss our interrelationship with all things?

“The cosmos is within us. We are made of star-stuff. We are a way for the universe to know itself.” ~ Carl Sagan

embraced now, 48x36IN, mixed media

read Kerri’s blogpost about SPIRALS

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Arrive At Wisdom [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on August 24, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

The meeting of sand and surf. In the children’s-book-of-my-mind, at the beginning of the story, sand and surf have completely different points of view. They have radically different understandings of each other and opposing orientations to ebb-and-flow, to the movement of the earth and their place in it. They insist that they are in conflict.

And yet, they meet. Every day. In the story of sand and surf they eventually learn that they can focus on their differences or they can focus on what they have in common. They are surprised to learn that one could not know itself without the other. They are gobsmacked by the knowledge that one would have no purpose without the other! In fact, they would have no identity without the other!

With their new understanding, sand and surf begin to ask a different question: who do they want to be together.

At the end of the story, the climax of this children’s tale, they come to understand that their reason-for-being is each other. They are not, in fact, separate. They are symbiotic. They transform each other in their mutual dance. Thus, they arrive at wisdom.

Sand and surf. Harmony, in the children’s-book-of-my-mind. Nothing really changes other than their choice of where to focus. And then, of course, everything changes.

my favorite illustration from Lucy And The Waterfox

Peri Winkle Rabbit Is Lost. A book I wrote and illustrated for a hurricane Katrina relief project. The organizers asked for an original story to help children understand and cope with loss. Original illustrations, no copies. I loved making this little book and i hope some child, somewhere, now an adult, loves it, too.

My gallery site

read Kerri’s blog post about SAND AND SURF

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Look Beneath The Brag [on DR Thursday]

Posted on August 17, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

“If I don’t brag I can’t complain,” she said, eyes sparkling. I howled with laughter. Wisdom from a soon-to-be 101 year old.

There’s nothing like a long life to strip the paint off an ego.

Her wisdom launched me into a thought-jag and made me wonder what a little time and maturity might bring to our yammering social media streams. Of LinkedIn a colleague recently said, “Everyone is selling. No one is buying.” Lots of bragging balanced by lots of complaining. Although it is moving fast, social media is still very, very young. A raucous kindergarten class. Me. Me. Me!

Kerri and I are not above it, of course. We are knee-deep in it. Each day we bemoan, “Oh, if only our readers would like or share our posts or music or cartoon or paintings…” The algorithm of “like” makes braggers and beggars of us all. It’s the road to increased attention which transmogrifies into words like “influencer” which promises dollars (with or without sense). (sorry. i couldn’t help myself;-) We don’t really want to be influencers but we do really want our work to support us – just like everyone else – so, a conundrum. In current reality, a full spectrum of bragging and complaining marks the road to increased notice.

Marshall McLuhan famously said, “The medium is the message.” Said another way, “…the content of any medium blinds us to the character of the medium.” Content need not have substance in a fast moving medium creating so many squeaky wheels seeking grease. Character (noun): mental and moral qualities… Through our current medium it is necessary to scream loud. No substance or moral quality is required to garner attention since garnering attention is the end-goal. Complain! Brag! Bang pots! Cry wolf! Blow whistles! Break news! Spread conspiracy! Lie loudly… Thumbs up. Angry face. Heart.

It brought again to my mind the question Susan asked last week, “When did kindness leave…” What I wish I’d said is, “It’s still there, it’s just runs deep beneath the noise.” Kindness has no need to compete with complaint for attention.

“How did it get to be the middle of August already?” Kerri asked, focusing her camera on the fading coneflowers. The day was hot. We were overwhelmed by our tasks so took a break and went for a walk.

“I don’t know,” I replied, trying to remember all that happened in June and July. There were so many life altering events for our friends and family. With no air in our sail, becalmed, time has lost much of its meaning.

Kerri showed me her photo. “I think I’ll call this one Waning Summer.” For us, there’s nothing to brag about so there’s nothing to complain about. Thank goodness. We sit solidly in the middle of the spectrum, knowing somewhere, running deep beneath the noise and moving very slowly, like kindness, runs a mighty river of gratitude.

“It’s beautiful.” I said.

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chasing bubbles, 33.25 x 48IN mixed media © david robinson

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read Kerri’s thoughts about END OF SEASON

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Keep It Pure [on DR Thursday]

Posted on August 10, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

I have favorite paintings. I do not love all of my children equally. Yet, to my great dismay, many of my most treasured pieces get nary a second look from viewers.

When I’m approached by someone interested in buying a painting, Kerri has an uncanny knack at predicting what painting the person will buy. Even if they approach us with a piece in mind, Kerri will squinch her nose and say, “They’re not going to buy that one. They want this one but they don’t know it yet.” She is almost always right.

In one famous case, I was about to destroy a painting and she stopped me. I disliked the painting to the point of embarrassment. “It’s gorgeous!” she cried. “Some one will want to buy that painting!” she insisted. I scoffed but let it live another day. Two months later the piece sold. “See…” she smiled, triumphant.

We’ve been hard at work reimagining and rebuilding my website. It’s coincided with the making and remaking of my resume. Two life reviews from diametrically opposed perspectives happening at the same time. That’s a lot of navel-gazing. I wanted to blend the site, make it a place to find my performance work, books, and organizational/coaching path. Kerri was adamant that I NOT do that. “Keep it pure,” she said. “You’ve done the other thing before so if you want it to be different, then do something different this time.”

For a time I was conflicted. In my moments of I’ll-never-work-again-panic I want to unload all of the possibilities on any potential employer. “I can do this, and this, and this, and this, too!” My my, aren’t I valuable.

We were walking our trail and I was embroiled in the inner debate when we stopped so Kerri could take a photograph of the flowers. Bright, beautiful, warm yellow sunburst from a dark brown center. They are what they are. No apology. No embellishment. No lobbying. Happy. They stopped us in our tracks. It was the Black-Eyed-Susans that convinced me that Kerri was right. Keep it pure. Keep it honest. Keep it simple.

“I am what I am,” I thought. Kerri is right. Mine is not to determine or argue for my value. Mine is to put my work out into the world as honestly and simply as I am able.

forward back, 18 x 36IN, mixed media

visit my new site.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BLACK-EYED SUSANS

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Follow The Popcorn Trail [on DR Thursday]

Posted on August 3, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

More than a decade and a half ago, a friend, a mystic, gave me a short-hand for my ikigai, my life-purpose. We were having a casual conversation when she got that look in her eyes. Nodding to some whispering voice I could not hear, she turned to me and said that she saw no career for me. Mine to do, my job, had (has) three aspects: to express what is true, to reach people through their hearts, to help them to believe (in themselves).

I confess to being a bit distraught at the “no career” part of her message. “What about my career as an artist?!” I wanted to protest but kept my panic to myself. I wanted her to ask the future a surprisingly pertinent question: In the absence of a career, how will I make a living? I kept that question to myself, too. I knew what she was telling me was true. Apparently I will bushwhack my way through life to the very end.

I thought about our conversation, her message to me, this morning while staring at Kerri’s photograph of green teasel. Staring at our prompts I never know what will pop into my mind. I never know what popcorn trail I will follow when we sit down to write. I am constantly surprised by the memory or idea that reveals itself. It’s akin to consulting the oracle: Why did this memory flood my heart and overtake my mind while staring at green teasel? It’s why I love writing our posts: the cultivation of surprise.

Looking back I have to admit that the whispering voice was spot on. When we write – and we write together every day – my hope is to reach people through their hearts. We laugh because I am much more “heady” in my writing than Kerri, who is all heart. Perhaps the whispering voice saw clearly our daily dedication to writing. Expressing my truth in word and image. It is the singular constant in my otherwise seemingly incoherent passage.

Wild teasel is a medicinal plant. In an age before modern medicine I would have sought it to treat my Lyme Disease. It’s an anti-inflammatory so I’d make a tincture to help my aching joints. I’d be filled with the wisdom of self-healing, connected to and grateful for the plants that surround me.

Perhaps that is why wild teasel inspired a memory of my mystic friend? An oracle. Nature’s healing. The sagacity of hindsight. Grateful for the wisdom and good hearts that surround me. The willingness to follow the popcorn trail, especially when it makes absolutely no sense, but knowing in my bones that it will lead to a delightful surprise: a memory of Ikigai revealed. A worthy life-purpose that can only be found in giving your gift to others.

come for a visit. I’m adding images and links every week.

read Kerri’s blogpost about TEASEL

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Ponder It [on DR Thursday]

Posted on July 27, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

As you know, Breck-the-aspen-tree almost didn’t make it. Three years in a pot and one ill-conceived planting in the backyard left our poor Breck withered. A new spot in the yard restored Breck’s health but her growth was minimal. We removed dead branches. We assumed we’d stunted Breck’s growth so she would always be beloved and diminutive.

And then…It seems Breck is growing an inch every day. We began the summer looking down at her. Now, we crane our necks to see the new leaves sprouting at the top of her gangly reach. We joke that Breck is doing her Jack-In-The-Beanstalk imitation, though, at this rate of growth, it’s no joke. I confess to having a sit-down chat with her, cautioning her to not grow up too fast.

Last night I was awake most of the night. I thought about Breck and new growth. I thought about the cicadas, a surprising new form emerging from a discarded old body. I hoped against all hope that nature was talking to me, sending me a message. Be patient. All in good time. I’ve been sitting in the hallway for a very long time.

Perhaps, like Breck, I too am waiting for the optimal time, some intrinsic trigger and, suddenly and without warning or inhibition, I will reach to the sky. Perhaps, like the cicadas, in a moment of surprise, my new form will burst out of the old body, amazed at the sudden addition of wings.

In the meantime, I continue to do as I was taught: my job is to “put it out there”. The rest is out of my control [meantime: the intervening time. The hallway]. The operative word is “it”. It. I write and publish almost everyday. I paint and publish. We cartoon and publish. I toss resumes into the wind.

In the dark of night, thinking of aspen trees and cicadas, I ponder worthy questions. Breck needed assistance to move to new soil and then required recovery time. Storing energy for the right moment. The cicada lived underground until it felt an internal imperative to climb – an imperative that I imagine made no sense but had to be heeded just the right moment. For me, if nature is talking to me, it has me pondering what else – that I’ve not yet considered – might “it” be that I should “put out there”? Or better, does “it” matter at all? Perhaps all that I lack is the right moment. And there’s nothing to be done about that.

weeping man, 48x36IN, mixed media

My Site. Up and Running. At Long Last.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BRECK

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Look Both Ways [on DR Thursday]

Posted on July 20, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

I love our smack-dab cartoon. In a cartoon, dogs can talk, people can transmogrify, we can laugh at the worst of ourselves and reveal the best of ourselves. In other words, anything is possible. I think that’s why cartooning has long been an aspect of Kerri and my relationship. Anything is possible.

Our first cartoon idea popped up when we were punchy on a roadtrip. We asked a “what if” question. What if we’d met earlier in life and had children. What would we have named our little pot roast? Miles of hilarity ensued because we landed on Chicken Marsala. Our boy Chicken was born and for the rest of the trip, the voice of our imaginary child chimed in with commentary about his parents. We submitted five rounds of Chicken Marsala cartoons to the syndicates. Chicken strips and single panel Chicken nuggets (clever, no?). The imaginary child of two artists who met late in life. What a great premise! Especially since the two artists were hot messes and the child was grounded, capable of scaring them into sensibility and taunting them into play. Idealists, all.

It used to be that when I asked a “what if” question I zoomed into the outer reaches of inner space. That’s still true though now I have a second, equally powerful path to imagination. Look close-in at the miracle shapes of plants. Look close-in at the worlds at play all around us. I give full credit to Kerri’s compulsion to photograph minutiae. “Lookit!” she proclaims and shows me a miracle image. I’ve picked up the pattern. I rarely photograph what I see but I am just as apt to look close-in as I am to fly into the Netherworld. I am on a daily basis gobsmacked by color or texture or shape or sound or smell or taste of this amazing world. Look at the lavender! Just look! No, really. Slow down and look.

This morning I read a definition of imagination: thinking that is not bound by real world constraints. I wanted to add this: senses that are capable of experiencing real world detail.

It’s a great polarity, the spectrum of potential between “anything is possible” and “I never could have imagined it.” Chicken tried to tell us to look both ways but, you know, it’s harder than you think to listen to your imaginary child, especially when they understand more about life than you ever will.

my perpetually almost but not quite as yet incomplete holding pen of a website

read Kerri’s blogpost about LAVENDER

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Make It Someday [on DR Thursday]

Posted on July 13, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

More than a few times, we’ve stood at the display of wind chimes in a store. We sound them. We compare the tones. We close our eyes and feel the vibration. Some we like immediately. Others we shrug, not-so-much. We give them a second try, ringing a few together to make mixed tones. We never buy the chimes but we always try them on for size. It’s a form of dreaming. We leave the display with the magic phrase, “Someday.” Yes, someday we’ll have to get those.

Someday. What a double-edged sword is this word!

A few years ago, when Kerri’s digestive system went awry, we dedicated ourselves to the Whole 30 diet so she might regain balance. There’s no sugar allowed in the Whole 30. We learned a valuable strategy for coping with the intense I-must-have-that desire. Walk past the plate of brownies and count to 5. In five seconds, without fail, the desire dissipated. We learned that what-we-must-have is a healthy system. The road to “someday” meant not biting the illusion of sugar-fulfillment.

Delayed gratification. Accelerated health.

Today we learned of Jonathan’s passing. The news floated by on the Facebook stream. We were stunned. In addition to being a very bright light in the world, a peer, he was one of the hardest working people I’ve ever known. He was stockpiling money for his retirement. He had vision. He had plans. “Someday,” he’d say, a twinkle-of-delight in his eye. We lost touch during the pandemic. This morning Kerri said, “I always thought we see him again. Someday…”

Delayed gratification. Accelerated health. Missed opportunities.

I’m given to looking up the words I’m batting around. The antonyms of “someday” are “immediately” and “never.” Two choices, polar opposites, both unforgiving.

Today we will celebrate the life of a friend. We’ll lift a glass in his honor. We’ll share a brownie bite. We might just go to the store and sound the chimes. And, who knows, maybe today will be someday. “Why wait?” I’ll ask.

surrender now, 24x24IN, mixed media © 2016 david robinson

my perpetual placeholder site

read Kerri’s blogpost about CHIMES

[dinner at Jonathan’s house]

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