Pick Up The Tool And Play [on DR Thursday]

Paint Box copy

If every life is a journey of self-discovery then it follows that every life-journey is supported with a unique series of challenges. The challenges reveal ourselves to ourselves [how’s that for an awkward use of language!]. Obstacles wake us up.

My challenges require a special set of tools. Master Miller sends photos of his young son, Dawson, painting. I love those photos because Dawson is free in his use of paint and brush. His exploration is pure pleasure. It is beautiful (seriously. It is Beautiful).

Last night I sat on the floor of my studio and played with the tools that support my unique series of challenges. I scraped paint with knives. I mushed around color with a fan brush. I was not free. My challenge is to circle back to what Dawson already knows. I think too much. I study too hard. I seek rather than simply experience.

What Dawson knows: I don’t have to look for it. What I seek is already here. I merely need to pick up the tool and get out of the way.  It’s a platitude for the aging but true nevertheless.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about MY PAINT BOX

 

windyHHwebsite box copy

 

Say It Over And Over and Over…[on DR Thursday]

IMG_1824 copy

While Kerri plays the service, I often sit in the choir loft and scribble images on the back of old bulletins. On the left side of this sketch (not visible in the crop) is a running stream of words, ohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohplease…

I’ve been playing with words as images a lot in the past few years. The words become pattern, the repetition renders the symbols meaningless-as-language but potent-as-design. I love pattern for this very reason. Too much repetition dulls the eyes and mind and in the dulling, something new emerges. It is how a good ritual works: dance fervently the pattern until you drop. Exhaustion opens the door to let in the spirit.

Pray hard enough and often enough and the words become meaningless. It is exactly at the point of meaninglessness, that perception shifts and something new rushes in. Saul-the-Tai-Chi-master would say it this way: wrestle with the obstacle long enough and you will eventually give up. In giving up, in your defeat, you just might glance beyond the obstacle and, at last, see the field of possibility.

 

InstrumentofPeace copy

read Kerri’s blog post about SCRIBBLES

 

drc website header copy

 

blackwalnut website box copy

 

the sketch is a sketch and not useful and may be pirated and spread widely all over the world so feel free to insert it into your recipes or instagram or populate the cover of your technology with it or send it to china without guilt.

 

instrument of peace ©️ 2015 david robinson

Look In, Look Out [on DR Thursday]

InPrayer copy

yoga series: in prayer, mixed media, 67 x 64 IN

Going through my stacks I’m struck by how many of my paintings are about meditation or prayer. Most of my work is inward looking.

When I was a kid I was fascinated with drawing eyes. I spent hours and hours drawing eyes because I wanted to know what was behind them, inside, going on beneath what was visible. It should not be a surprise to me when looking at the mountain of canvas and paper in my studio that most is populated with images of inward looking. I’m still working on what’s behind those eyes, it seems.

Once, in Bali, Budi told me that the high priests were in prayer all of the time. Their whole lives were dedicated to constant prayer. Seeing how I was struck by his comment he added that all people are in prayer all of the time, they just don’t know it. “Thought is prayer,” he said. “The high priests know it so they guide their thought and pray for peace. Most people spend their life praying about their troubles.”

 

read Kerri’s thoughts on IN PRAYER

 

 

tpacwebsitebox copy

 

yoga series: in prayer ©️ 2014 david robinson

Paint A Surprise [on DR Thursday]

and now painting copy

This painting hangs in Kerri’s studio. I painted it in secret. It was my wedding present to her.

More than once she came down the stairs into my studio while I was working on it. It’s harder than you might think to surprise someone that you are with 24/7. I’d hear the door open at the top of the stairs and scramble to put a sham painting in front of it.

“How’s it going?” she’d ask.

“Fine,” I’d pant, feigning nonchalance and hoping she wouldn’t notice that the paint on my brush didn’t match the painting on the easel. I’d dab a little here and there to sell my diversion.

She’d stand back and examine the sham painting. “Tell me what you’ve done since the last time I saw it?” she asked, puzzled.

“It’s subtle,” I’d say. “You probably can’t see the changes yet.” She’d squint and purse her lips and continue into the laundry room. I’d sigh and “work” on the sham until she went back up the stairs.

I love this painting. I love how I painted it (it was fun making a secret gift!) and I love why I painted it. It is both simple and complex (like we are). It is alive with symbols that trace stories about us, about our life together, our origin. It is a painting that becomes more “true” with each passing year.

Today, four years ago, I successfully surprised her with this painting. Later in the day, we skipped out of the church, transformed.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about AND NOW [THE PAINTING]

 

wedding pic with website copy

 

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my bride at our reception! this picture captures exactly what i adore about her.

Wrestle And Be Grateful [on DR Thursday]

Watercolor - Jacob and Angel copy 2

Among the cruelest things I’ve ever said is that I didn’t want to be like Quinn. I spoke those words in frustration, anger and fear.

The truth is that I have spent most of my life trying to be just like Quinn. Articulate, well read, capable of seeing from many points-of-view. Funny. Following his own star. A great teller of stories. He was so wise.

Quinn died last weekend and, today, I am wrestling with my cruelty.

I imagined that one day I’d be able to take back or explain my angry words.  I imagined sitting with him in his study, surrounded by his books and yellow pads and red pens and old coffee and laughing at my folly. He had a great laugh.

The last time I saw him he came to a class that I was teaching. Even after my cruel words he showed up, happy to help me. He thrilled my students with his hilarious musings and tales of serendipity. “Cultivate your serendipity,” he’d say. Intend your happy accident.

I walked him to the door and he hugged me. I was sheepish and he was kind. “That was fun,” he said, mostly to help me in my discomfort.

Kindness. Another quality to emulate.

Mostly, as I wrestle with my angel, I am grateful that providence brought to my life such a good man, such a great teacher.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about WRESTLING WITH ANGELS

 

k&dbw backs website box_ copy

 

this watercolor, wrestling with an angel, is old so let’s just say ©️ 2019 david robinson

Blow Up Your Feathers [on DR Thursday]

EarthInterrupted3 copy 2

Earth Interrupted. This painting is the third in the series. It’s not as political as it might seem. Every time change comes an earth is interrupted. Configurations dismembered and then reconfigured.

A long time ago, when working with groups on perspective shifts, I used the phrase, “Blow up your feathers so they can re-settle in a new pattern.” I liked the phrase because I love the notion that thoughts are just so many feathers that have settled into a random pattern.

This series was (and is) my attempt to blow up my artistic feathers, to interrupt my earth. My feathers are still airborne. I’ll let you know when my earth settles down, when my feathers find a new pattern.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about E.I. III

 

 

EarthInterrupted3 copy 2

E.I. III, 48x36IN, mixed media

 

seagull in fog website box copy

 

earth interrupted III ©️ 2018 david robinson

 

 

Capture The Beauty [on DR Thursday]

sketch copy

The day was stormy, the lake was unsettled, steel grey and roiling. Kerri walked to the water’s edge with her camera. I opened my sketchbook and caught a quick sketch. Perhaps a notation for a someday-painting. Perhaps a gesture with nowhere to go.

A few days later I looked at this quick sketch and laughed. It is a metaphor for our time on island. Standing at the edge of a storm not of our making. Witness to the turmoil. It blows us to and fro. It messes our hair. The sand stings our faces.  We are taken by the colors of its violence. When the winds grow too powerful, we retreat to the safety of our littlehouse. We wait for the latest flurry to calm, the waves to soften.

It is tempting to want to be done with it. To rush through a month of life. Each day I remind myself to be in it, not simply get through it. Life on this day may be stormy. It might be upsetting. Stormy and upsetting are colors on the palette. They are worthy experiences. Amidst the chaos there are instances of utter beauty –  like the moment Kerri walked to the edge of a roiling lake and I looked up, caught my breath, and reached for my sketchbook so that I’d never ever forget.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about A SKETCH

 

 

 

 

sunsetonisland website box copy

 

Give Over [on DR Thursday]

#8 Held In Grace -Surrender Now copy 2

It’s called Surrender Now.

I chose it for this week’s Melange because, from this vantage point, surrender seems the only path forward. Giving over rather than giving in. Nonresistance to the forces fighting all around us.

Nonresistance is a scary word. In modern parlance is presupposes tyranny. Unjust authority run amok. It is a path of exposing suppression en route to peace. Ghandi and Martin Luther King.

The surrender in the painting, the surrender of which I write, is a much more personal variety. It is the surrender of aging. It is the surrender of pushing for outcomes and achievements, the release of long-held loss and disappointment. Giving up old stories. giving over to unknown paths and definitions.

Surrender the push-away of life as it comes. Rather, embrace the day with all its surprises. Held in grace. Surrender now.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about SURRENDER NOW

 

 

SurrenderNow framed copy

arches shadows k&d website box copy

 

held in grace: surrender now ©️ 2016 david robinson

Meet Your Graces [on DR Thursday]

ThreeGraces copy

Brightness. Joyfulness. Bloom. Or, charm. beauty, and creativity. They have many names, these Graces. Also known as the Charities. They are also known as Zeus’  daughters.

Sun. Joy. Bloom. At the end of Thornton Wilder’s Our Town, is a monologue. Emily, saying goodbye to her life (she has already died), revels in the beauty of life that we simply do not appreciate. The smell of grass. The sound of leaves rustling. Morning coffee. Stretching your legs. “Oh, earth,” she says, “You are too beautiful…” To the Greeks, in that final moment, Emily is being visited by a Grace.

These posts often take me down rabbit holes. Here’s today’s surprise: I bumbled into a bit of research on Buckminster Fuller, one of the great minds of the 20th Century. I learned that, as a young man, he was deeply depressed and was considering suicide. In a crucial moment, he had an experience. In the midst of his despair he was lifted into a ball of light and very clearly heard, “You belong to the universe. Your significance will remain forever obscure to you but you may assume that you are fulfilling your role if you apply yourself to converting your experiences to the highest advantage of others.”

Convert your experiences to the highest advantage of others. A visit by the Graces. Creativity is divinely given. You belong to the universe. What else?

 

ThreeGraces copy

three graces,, 32 x 56IN, acrylic

 

read Kerri’s blog post about THE THREE GRACES

 

HH coffee cups website box copy

 

threegracescopyright2012davidrobinson

 

Note The Milestone [on DR Thursday]

David RobinsonYoga Series 7 - Version 2

Some paintings are milestones, markers of change. This is one of those paintings.

And, although I recognized it as a marker, I had no idea what to call it. Since it was the seventh in a new series of experiments that I called ‘yoga’ paintings, I cleverly named this piece Yoga Series #7. A catchy title, don’t you think?

It became the lead image on my website. It was the banner image on my society6.com store. It was the image that identified this blog site for a few years.

I painted it a full two years before I met Kerri. Early in our lives together, I showed her my paintings, this painting. She asked me what I called it and I told her. #7. Sometimes my wife looks at me like I’m an idiot. Actually, she stares at me with a searing look of utter incomprehension. Her thought bubble carries a single word, “dullard.” This was the first time I experienced “the look.”

“That just won’t do.” she said. “It’s your icon. I think you should call it Iconic.”

Not only was it the first time I experienced “the look,” it was also the first time I received “the correction.”

“Iconic,” I said, pretending to try it on for size, feigning that the decision was mine alone to make and secretly loving that the decision was now – and forever – a joint affair. The moment was iconic.

“I like it,” I said.

David RobinsonYoga Series 7 - Version 2

iconic, 54 x 54IN, mixed media

 

read Kerri’s blog post about ICONIC

 

 

BootsWeddingBoots website box copy

 

iconic ©️ 2010 david robinson