Walk In Peace [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on April 6, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

I wanted to write about the day, long ago, that my Canadian friend questioned me about my country’s inability to deal with its black/white problem. His country does not have the history of slavery and Jim Crow that mine has. They have a different history of racial division. I was in Edmonton facilitating a diversity workshop and found that I had the most superficial of answer that amounted to “I don’t understand it either.”

I wish I was having that conversation with him now. I have a more complete grasp on my nation’s history. It’s not that we are incapable; it’s that we don’t want to. Our division is a strand of our national DNA. We’ve never settled the question, “Who do we mean when we say, We The People”? Right now, 26 years into the 21st century, one of our political parties is once again whitewashing our history while actively blaming people of color for our nation’s ills. The propaganda machine is working overtime to breath new life into the mad-mad-19th-century-notion of a master race. It continues to be profitable and manufactures dross easily swallowed for a populace largely ignorant of its history.

I wanted to write about my Canadian friend’s question but I found myself hoping that this latest loop around the racist velodrome would be the last. People who study change reassure me that significant growth follows a clear pattern: people revert before they progress, they step backward into the comfortable known, find it empty or ill-fitting, before stepping into the new. My nation is way overdo for a step forward.

I found myself staring at 20’s shoes. Converse Peace Signs. They were Kerri’s dad’s shoes and she gave them to 20 after her dad passed. Walking in peace. What would it take for us to embrace our diversity and flip our racism on its head? Diversity is, after all, in every situation in nature, a strength. Prosperity in all its forms is dependent upon rich diversity. Mono culture is death.

Photographer Angélica Dass believes our troubles stems from our “binary” color palette.* We’ve reduced each other to black and white. It inspired her to create a color wheel of humanity. Her project Humanae matches the full palette of beautiful human skin tones to their Pantone color. Her point (among many): race is a social construct. “Kids don’t describe themselves as black and white – we teach them black and white.”

We need not reduce each other. We need not exclude. We are capable of celebrating and supporting and appreciating. We are capable of embracing the science: there is no genetic or scientific basis for race. “It’s largely a made-up label, used to define and separate us.”*

I wanted to write about my Canadian friend’s question. I found myself staring at 20’s shoes. A symbol in black and white, an ideal beautiful and available to all the rich hues comprising humanity’s color wheel. A factual story capable of defining and uniting us.

*National Geographic, Special Issue: Black and White, April 2018

read Kerri’s blogpost about PEACE SHOES

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Weave [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on April 1, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

What are the odds that this wild daffodil will survive?

Context is everything. As is always true, to understand the big picture it is necessary to consider the circumstances. For instance, this seemingly healthy daffodil is bursting through the root ball of a recently fallen tree. It is suspended in air. Improbable. It is detached from solid ground. It was uprooted with the tree. Consider the full picture. What are the odds that it will survive?

Our word “context” comes from the Latin “contextus” which means “to weave together”. Weave together the facts.

This weekend we attended our local NO KINGS protest. Many of my fellow protestors asked (rhetorically) who is profiting from this orange-incompetent and his war-of-choice? Or, asked another way, “Why are we helping Russia undermine us again?”

The context is found in the word “again”.

With Robert Mueller’s passing we’ve had the opportunity to revisit the key findings in his investigation into Russia’s interference in our 2016 election. In addition to multiple indictments and convictions, overwhelming evidence of Russia’s interference, there is this: “A statement signed by over 1,000 former federal prosecutors concluded that if any other American engaged in the same efforts to impede federal proceedings the way Trump did, they would likely be indicted for multiple charges of obstruction of justice.”

The authroitarian-wannabe has lifted oil sanctions from Russia. Russia is now profiting mightily from the world’s oil crisis caused by Iran’s closure of the Strait of Hormuz. With their flow of money restored, Russia is both amping up its assault on Ukraine AND providing Iran with intelligence to better strike USA targets.

Weave. As the people took to the streets to protest NO KINGS, the administration welcomed a Russian delegation of lawmakers to Washington D.C. to begin normalizing relations.

Normalizing relations! What?

Who is profiting from our nation’s economic and moral suicide? While we prevent Venezuelan and Mexican oil tankers from reaching Cuba, we somehow find it acceptable to allow Russian tankers through the blockade.

Weave.

The survival of our democracy is the reason that the people are taking to the streets. Given the context, the threat to our survival is abundantly clear and it currently sits at the resolute desk. It leads a party that has proven itself incapable of or uninterested in governing a democracy.

What are the odds that this wild daffodil will survive? The answer is up to us.

read Kerri’s blogpost about WILD DAFFODIL

www.kerrianddavid.com

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The Responsibility To Truth [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on March 31, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

I just finished my read of John Steinbeck‘s, The Winter Of Our Discontent. If you asked me what it’s about I’d answer, “It’s the story of what happens when the responsibility to truth collapses.” It is a troubling story. It is perhaps more relevant now than when it was written.

“Responsibility to truth is a moral and intellectual obligation to seek, uphold, and communicate reality, exposing lies and maintaining integrity even when uncomfortable. It demands that individuals prioritize accuracy over popularity, ensuring that personal and public actions align with verifiable truth to combat deception and build trust.” ~ AI

We have phrases that provide cover for the abdication of responsibility to truth. Business is business. Dog eat dog. The twin gods of profit, Efficiency and Effectiveness, are not at all concerned with truth. The movement of the markets motivate our actions far faster than any impulse to truth. If truth was important to us, if we felt any obligation to it at all, The Epstein Class would already be in prison as would the current occupant of the White House. If truth mattered at all would we tolerate any of the many propaganda purveyors who daily justify, defend and spin obvious lies and grift?

In the free press truth is a casualty of ratings. Remember: business is business. If you wonder how we got to this fascist threshold look no further than the amoral anti-intellectual dedication to gain via falsehood. Democracy is concerned with the will of the people and is vibrant when built upon a shared responsibility to truth. Authoritarianism is concerned with personal gain and is built upon the exploitation of people and wild fabrication.

I took my “responsibility to truth” phrase with me on our hike. Sometimes stepping onto a trail is the equivalent of stepping out of the madness. The ick falls away. The reappearance of tender green, the emergence of new life, fills me with an undeniable truth of spring. It attaches me to the eternal and puts into perspective the momentary sickness of human political shenanigans. We make up reasons to go to war, we pull and push to gain control of “the narrative”, we hoard wealth as if there is not enough to go around, we imagine a pyramid and will kill to stand on the top or at least be interred within, our mummified bodies surrounded by heaps of gold, our faces carved into stone…and none of it has anything to do with simple truth. None of it bears an iota of responsibility to truth or integrity or basic reality. The ritual return of the buds transcends all of our illusions. The impulse to life reaches through the crocus, a ritual that precedes us by a many millennia – and will burst through the soil a thousand years after our carvings in stone and piles of gold erode and return to sand.

It’s hard to deny the truth of new buds. Our illusions of grandeur are passing. When future archeologists unearth the remnants of our civilization they will speculate about our society. Will they find us civilized? Will they find evidence of our societal collapse, our brutality and embrace of lies, our dog-eat-dog demise? Or will they discover the story of our transcendence of self, the reawakening of our obligation to future generations, our reclamation of the responsibility to truth?

read Kerri’s blogpost about BUDS

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What It’s Made Of [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on March 25, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

I had to ask. What is a Peep made of? The main ingredient is sugar (no surprise). Corn syrup is the second ingredient and I read it provides sweetness and texture. Evidently there’s a lack of sweetness with so much sugar so corn syrup takes up the slack. Rounding out the top three ingredients is gelatin which gives the peep its bunny and baby chick shape. There’s wax for coating and potassium sorbate for freshness preservation. The Peep-particuilar color is due to food dye.

I am not a fan of Peeps but Beaky loved them. I am a fan of peanut M&M’s and therefore I refuse to read the ingredients. I don’t want to know.

Yesterday I wrote a harsh post about the willful blindness of the republican congress. And lest I leave the plank in my own eye while removing the speck from the peeper of congress, I thought I’d better confess my willful ignorance of the innards of an M&M. Where snacks are concerned I am quite capable of looking the other way. I don’t think I could or would consciously look the other way as the-arsonist-in-chief sets fire to the Constitution and burns down the nation. It’s one thing to eat a Peep in blissful ignorance. It’s another thing to knowingly consume the lies of a monster and enjoy it.

It is Easter season, the celebration of new life. The return of spring. The egg is an ancient symbol of new life so we dye them and hide them and delight in the hunt by children to find them. It is a ritual of renewal. A basket full of colorful hope. It is the season that Peeps and pastel candies rise in prominence in the grocery store. In my Easter egg hunt I am looking high and low for the resurrection of integrity, the adoration of humanity in all its wild and beautiful colors, the rebirth (or perhaps the first birth) of a fearless diverse nation unafraid of its history and dedicated to vibrant inclusivity. It is, after all – and in truth – what our nation is made of.

read Kerri’s blogpost about PEEPS.

www.kerrianddavid.com

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Go Empty [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on March 10, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

Among my vast archives of good-advice-received is a gem from Karola. I’ve often written about her wisdom: “Let yourself go empty,” she said. She laughed knowing that “going empty” would be a struggle for me. There is nothing more vulnerable or frightening for a young artist than to admit that their well is dry. What if the muse never comes back? “Going empty” at that phase of my life was akin to abandoning my identity. It felt like a step into the void.

As it turns out going empty was among the best things I ever did for myself. It stands among the greatest lessons I’ve ever learned. Spring requires winter. All budding artists eventually learn that artistry is not what you do – it is who you are. Going empty is the path to learning it. Karola knew exactly what I needed to hear and when I needed to hear it.

Have you not, at one time or another, been left in awe at an insight that comes from a confluence of seeming random experiences? Pieces of a puzzle coming together in what might seem arbitrary but is, in fact, a magic key that unlocks the door to deeper understanding? Last week, after wrestling for months with a play, I decided to leave it alone for awhile. In truth, after wrestling for months, I finally wrote a section that had merit – and when I saved the file it simply disappeared. Poof! After several attempts to find and retrieve the file, my computer insisted that the file was corrupted. I took it as a sign. Give it some space. Leave it alone.

Just as I’d decided to let the project go, we received a message from a man who wanted to buy the remains of my rocking chair. This chair has lived in every studio I’ve ever occupied. Except for my easel it is the only piece of furniture I’ve carried through my nomadic life. In our most recent basement flood a pipe burst directly above the chair, blasting the caning and destroyed the seat, damaging the finish and annihilating a hardcover sketchbook resting on the arm. I decided my chair deserved a better place-in-the-world. It deserved to be with someone who could properly restore it and take better care of it. The message from a buyer sent me reeling. I, of course, denied it. Kerri saw my distress and helped me see it. Every single painting I’ve created in my adult life was rocked into existence in that chair. It’s history was my history. We told the buyer that the chair was already spoken for.

I sat for several minutes with the remains of my chair. There was no one on earth who could better care for it because there was no one on earth who cared more about it than me.We’ll find someone who does caning. We’ll find an upholsterer who can repair the damage and replace the seat or we’ll do it ourselves.

I turned all my canvases to the wall, turned off the salt lamp and climbed the stairs. I met Kerri in the sunroom where we ate Munchos, drank wine, and debriefed the day. I confessed my revelation: I was going to sell my chair because I did not feel worthy of it – which, of course, is a statement not at all about the chair. It was a jolt akin to the discovery of a secret passageway that leads to a hidden chamber of secrets. A lingering question of worth.

Later it felt like opening the window and bringing fresh air to rush into a long-sealed dark and stale room.

I felt exhausted. I felt relieved. I felt as if I could breathe.

“It’s time to go empty.” I heard Kerri say. I heard Karola laughing. Jump into the void. This time, no timid stepping: jump. Really jump. Clear space for a worthy abundant spring.

read Kerri’s blog about the MUNCHO HEART

www.kerrianddavid.com

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Tiny Yearning [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on March 9, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

An owl feather “…symbolizes wisdom, intuition, and the ability to see beyond deception or hidden truths.” ~ Mr. Google

We found an owl feather on our trail. I said, “It’s a good omen.” Even as I said it I knew that endowing the feather with the power of an omen is one way, my way, of giving meaning to my life. This grand old universe is winking at me and wants me to know that all is well. Or perhaps I am winking at this grand old universe in the hope that there is meaning beyond what I make.

Maria Popova wrote that omens “…are a conversation between consciousness and reality in the poetic language of belief.”

Some might scoff at my owl-feather-omen. I don’t mind. I see no difference between my conversation with something greater by finding a feather on a path – and the route others take by sitting in pews reciting prayers together. Although we find our feathers and hold our conversation in different ways they are, after all, the same conversation.

The language of belief is poetic. It is referential. An allusion.

We get into trouble when we believe that there is only one way of conversing with the universe. We miss the point. If you think about it, my owl omen and your whispered prayer have much in common. Your Bible, your Quran or your Vedas, the sutras and mantras and psalms, the I-Ching and astrology, astronomy and quantums…are matter and energy talking to each other. The tiny yearning reaches for communion with the greater whole.

We found an owl feather on the trail.

read Kerri’s blogpost about the OWL FEATHER

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Join The Chorus [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on March 4, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

Horatio reported that he and T are becoming hermits. Kerri and I feel that we, too, are tending toward the reclusive. It would not surprise me to learn that there is a national impulse toward hunkering down. We had a Saturday plan for adventure and awoke to find the liar-in-chief, the pedophile-president, had started a war with Iran. We scrapped our plan. It was lightly snowing so we decided to relish the temporary quiet that the snow brings. Kerri headed outside to capture the snow crystals collecting on the tall grasses. Find the beauty in the moment regardless of the bleak circumstance.

I am aware that the danger of authoritarian takeovers, like the one we are experiencing, complete with a masked gestapo that does not feel bound by the law, a president who is immune to the law, and a congress that ignores the law, is that it will make agoraphobics of us all. It is human nature to opt for safety, which successfully inhibits freedom of movement. That’s what the bully and his cohort count on. Pitting safety against freedom is in the authoritarian playbook. That’s why we must step out, take to the streets, join hands and exercise our fundamental right to protest while we still have it. It’s all that now stands between us (our democracy) and the authoritarian take-over. A free people create safety for each other; people running for safety have already lost their freedom.*

Do you find it ironic, as I do, that one of the many reasons given for this war-of-choice is to help free the Iranian people from authoritarian rule – all the while the administration (if you can call it that) are assaulting our democracy, ignoring the constitution, pulling out all the stops to suppress our free and fair elections in order to establish authoritarian rule here at home?

I find the real beauty of the moment to be the people of our nation, concerned for their freedom, taking to the streets. Instead of running inside to hide – as this administration thought we would – instead of seeking safety in the face of the thuggery, we’re facing the bullies, standing-up for our basic freedoms. Renee Nicole Good. Alex Pretti. We’re invoking the spirit of John Lewis and all those who knew that freedom is a prerequisite of safety. The intention of freedom-and-justice-for-all is a prerequisite of democracy. Once lost, there is no safety, there is no justice.

We are living in a very bleak circumstance, indeed. And yet there is so much beauty – the guardians of freedom – the people – pour into the streets. It inspires even the most dedicated hermit to dust off his coat and join the protest-chorus.

Horatio also reported that each week, he and T, along with their granddaughter, take to the streets and lend their voices to the cause of democracy. They dance and laugh and sing with the other protesters. They stand in the winter cold waving signs at passing cars. These are not the actions of hermits-in-the-making. The truth betrays itself. These are the actions of people who are less concerned with their safety and comfort than they are determined that their grandchildren will live their lives in a country that is free.

*read Timothy Snyder’s remarkable book, On Freedom

read Kerri’s blogpost about SNOW ON GRASS

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Conscience Totems [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on February 25, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

In a roiling stream of consciousness, the limbs at sunset evoked a memory of watching a master of ink and brush, a fluid stroke, a guided hand that for some reason pitched me into Robert Motherwell. I scrolled through selections of his work and was taken by how many of his pieces are direct descendants of Henri Matisse. I was taken by how many times he returned to a theme Elegy To The Spanish Republic. The atrocities of war.

We heard the phrase “conscious avoidance” but thought we heard “conscience avoidance”. The confusion was fantastic! If I someday paint a series of pieces about the un-United States during these authoritarian years I will name the series Conscience Avoidance. Pam Bondi refusing to look at the Epstein survivors. The republican congress emasculating itself, refusing to deal with the obvious truth. The conservative members of the Supreme Court refusing to look at the Constitution. The Constitution stares, mouth agape, at the justices who try not to look at it. My massive canvases will be pocked with oppressive black strokes. Soul holes. Void.

There will, of course, be a parallel series. Conscience Totems. An homage to the people who take to the streets. Keepers of the promise and the light. Bright swaths of vibrant color evoking guide stars and torches and courage. The fluid strokes mimicking a master of ink and brush, a hand guided by something grander than self-serving-money-lust or personal-political-gain. The living branches of a tree reaching one to the other, interlaced and interconnected, reflective of their roots, drinking deeply from the earth so it might touch the sky. A celebration of those unafraid to look power in the eye and ask, “What happened to you?”

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE TREE SILHOUETTE

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Riddled With Choices [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on February 23, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

“It’s everything behind you that brings you to what’s ahead.” ~ Visa advertisement

Once, long ago, a couple in The Netherlands offered to support me for a year so that I could paint without the pressures of making a living. They were artists, maintained a studio and were central to an active artists’ network. I’ve often wondered where my life would have taken me had I accepted their generous offer.

When Kerri and I met we talked about our “broken roads,” the life-choices that we’d made that actually – somehow – led us to meet. Every crossroad is riddled with choices. Some of the impacts of the choices-made are foreseeable. Most are not.

The road behind us, in these un-United States of America, is littered with the carnage of a tug-of-war between those who believe the words We The People are only meant for the privileged few and those who believe the words are all-inclusive. We have in our national broken road a Trail of Tears, generations of slavery, Jim Crow, women’s Suffrage, Japanese internment…we also know the abolition of slavery, a civil rights movement, voter rights…We have amendments to our Constitution, a Bill of Rights, that protect our liberties against an out-of-control government.

We are at a crossroads. The tug-of-war is in full view and the choices could not be more clear. Do we choose the path of freedom-and-justice-for-all or do we choose the fascist path of rights for the privileged few?

Lately, if you listen to the messaging from the White House and the resounding echo-chamber of the republican congress, the Constitution is merely a suggestion, discarded when inconvenient. We are currently witness to the unconstitutional ruling by the Supreme Court elevating the president above the law (making him a king), the suspension of due process and habeas corpus, and a complete disregard of the 4th Amendment protecting us against unreasonable searches and seizures. Our government is actively protecting an international ring of pedophiles comprised of the world’s wealthy elite – including many members of the current administration – while simultaneously constructing a network of concentration camps meant to house people of color en route to deportation. Each day, ICE, the agents of our government, egregiously violate the rights of-the-people with impunity.

It is also true that each day the people of the nation take to the streets to exercise their right to protest. The people of the nation are coming together to protect their neighbors from government abuse.

What’s behind us is a tug-of-war. What’s with us presently is a tug-of-war. What’s ahead of us?

Every crossroad is riddled with choices. Some of the impacts of the choices-made are foreseeable. Most are not. If we believe the polls, the people of the nation overwhelmingly choose the path of diversity, equity, and inclusion, a path that leads to the promise of democracy. The current administration does not.

The vast majority of our people are sick-to-death of the maga lies, the rampant gaslighting, and incessant blaming (abdication of responsibility), whining, whining, whining of this administration and the republican party.

Everything that’s behind us can lead to the fulfillment of the truths that we hold to be self-evident, that all people are created equal and that a government of the people, by the people and for the people is not only possible, it is our imperative.

Everything that’s behind us can also lead to rule by the elite few, the elimination of liberty-for-all. The embrace of antique white supremacy.

We stand at a crossroads. I hope our descendants do not have to wonder where life would have taken them had we accepted as sacred and protected the rights guaranteed to us in the Constitution. I hope they have the opportunity to look at our history, our broken road, and give thanks that, at this crossroad, we chose the path of freedom and justice for all.

read Kerri’s blogpost about WHAT’S AHEAD

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Back In The Day [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on February 12, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

Our basement archeological dig has revealed a punch bowl. I asked Kerri if she ever used it and she said “Yes. Back in the day.” She told me that she made punch with 7 Up and sherbet. I stared at her like she was an alien creature. I have a hard time reconciling the image of the woman I know, the one who wears boots and black thermal shirts, the woman who stands at her piano and plays it so passionately that it hops…with the woman who makes sherbet-&-7-Up punch in a cut-glass bowl.

I had to sit down and take a few deep breaths.

We had to renew our driver’s licenses a few weeks ago and the new versions just arrived in the mail. It is always shocking to compare the photos. My new license betrays a white white beard while in the previous photo I sported a more salt-n-pepper look. “They photoshopped my face!” I gasped. She rolled her eyes. I thought that whipping up a good government conspiracy was a more potent explanation than facing the truth of my face. When in Rome…

This week I complete another lap around the sun. This one is a milestone. It has me in a full-blown life review. I did not accumulate stuff in my passage across adulthood but if I had, in my deep archives, I’m certain we’d find an artifact, a punch bowl equivalent, something long forgotten, that would make Kerri ask, “Did you ever use this?” And I’d say, “Yes. Back in the day.”

So many chapters. So many miles walked. So many changes and lessons and losses and revelations. It makes me sit down and take a few deep breaths. It fills me with intense gratitude that this is where my punch bowl brought me.

*****

(A short scene:

Children of the Future: What’s this old piece of paper?

Us: It’s called The Constitution.’

Children of the Future: Did you ever us it?

Us: Yes. Back in the day.

We sit down and take a few breaths)

A self portrait (detail) from long ago.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE PUNCH BOWL

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