Riverstone [On KS Friday]

a musical lift from studio melange to get you to the weekend.

Don’t tell Kerri but this composition, Riverstone, is one of my favorite pieces of her music. It lifts me. Every time. It brings me immediately to my personal mountaintop moments, those times when I felt most alive and shouted to let the universe know it. It perfectly evokes for me that moment on a hot summer day when I waded into a cold mountain stream, my feet stinging, and I laughed at the simple joy of it.

What could be a better gift to give your self on this Friday. Step into Riverstone and let it take you, even for a moment, to your mountaintop.

RIVERSTONE from the album AS IT IS (track 4) iTunes

RIVERSTONE is also available on CDBaby

melange product BAR copy

RIVERSTONE wall art, mugs, totes, leggings, phone cases, beach towels and more. Gifts and reminders to go with the flow!

read kerri’s blog post about RIVERSTONE

RIVERSTONE from AS IT IS ©️ 2004 kerri sherwood

Find Your Treasures [On Chicken Marsala Monday]

A Chicken Nugget from studio melange to start your week.

find your treasures WITH EYES jpeg copy 3

if you like this nugget, share this nugget

I adored my grandpa Chan. I carry his middle name. Because he lived in Iowa and I grew up in Colorado my time with him was rare and precious. After his death, as his sons were sorting through his possessions, they asked if I wanted anything, something he might want me to have or to keep close. Immediately I thought of one thing: an old, barely functioning nutcracker that he kept by the pool table in his basement. He let me win many games at that table. We often cracked nuts during my surprising winning streaks.  I wanted it because he held it and, as treasures go, now, for me, it holds him.

find your treasures rect pillow copyI keep Chan’s nutcracker in a special box (DeMarcus’ paint box – another priceless treasure). When I am feeling blue or somehow alone in the world, I retreat to my basement and hold that nutcracker in my hand. I feel the presence of a man, my grandfather, so full of laughter and more than his share of mischief. “Do you want to shoot some pool?” I ask, feeling the alone-ness dissipate.

FIND YOUR TREASURES reminder merchandise

society 6 info jpeg copy

find your treasures CARD copy

Chicken Gift Cards

find your treasures CHICKEN SQ PILLLOW copy

Chicken Pillows

find your treasures LEGGINGS copy

Find Your Treasure Leggings

find your treasures FRAMED ART PRINT copy

Wall Art

find your treasures mETAL TRAVEL MUG copy

Mugs & Travel Mugs

read kerri’s blog post about FIND YOUR TREASURE

melange button jpeg copy

kerrianddavid.com

 

find your treasure ©️ 2016 david robinson & kerri sherwood

Two Artists Tuesday

CHILDRENarethebestwithframe jpegI knew from a very young age that I would never have children of my own. I knew. It was an intuitive knowing, not an intellectual resolve. My life, I knew, would be a wandering through the wasteland. I would tilt at windmills. I would seek for things that can never be found. Children, I believed (and still believe), needed the kind of stability that a restless seeker like me would never have been capable of providing.

Last night we went to the foreign film festival and saw an inspiring, funny and poignant Irish film called Sing Street. The ingenue explains to her suitor, an aspiring musician, that love is happy-sad. To love is to experience both.

I now have two amazing step-children. They were adults when I came into their lives and both live far away. I am slowly developing relationships with them, creating memories with them. I listen with fascination (and sometimes horror) as Kerri converses with her friends, mothers all, about their children.  There is so much suffering, to want to be near their children and yet want them to fulfill their dreams and fly. They want to be present and available BUT not too present or available; those wacky offspring want full support AND they want mom to stay out of their business. Motherhood, I’m learning, is a bottomless yearning, a constant ache, and there is nothing better. There is nothing more fulfilling.

Fathers, I’m observing, are mostly confounded. They shake their heads, not so much in agreement, but in concession. Their spouses are capable of reconciling and celebrating the ambiguity of parenthood. Fatherhood, it seems, is a surrender to the unsolvable. A submission to the mystery. The ache is no less profound. The joy is no less intense.

Happy – sad. A full spectrum of living. Love. From studio melange on this Two Artists Tuesday.

CHILDREN ARE THE BEST THING merchandise

TwoArtists childrenAre TOTE BAG  TwoArtists ChildrenAre FRAMED PRINT  TwoArtists ChildrenAre PILLOW

kerrianddavid.com

read Kerri’s thoughts about this Two Artists Tuesday

children are the best thing ©️ 2016 kerri sherwood & david robinson

Two Artists Tuesday

SWEET POTATO copy

Standing at the doorstep of her mortality, Kerri’s mom, Beaky, turned to her daughter and offered these words of advice. Live life, my sweet potato. This print hangs by our front door as a reminder of two very precious gifts: Beaky and this life.

Live life; who doesn’t occasionally need a reminder?

A few years ago, as a readership experiment, we created and published a series of simple images with words. Each image or phrase had a special meaning for us. We called the series two-artists-making-stuff-for-humans. The experiment was a success, our readership quickly grew, and then, like all attention deficit artists, we moved on to other projects. In the melange, Tuesdays belong to Two Artists.

 

LIVE LIFE, MY SWEET POTATO

kerrianddavid.com

live life, my sweet potato ©️ 2016 kerri sherwood & 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

Step Through The Doorway Singing

When I first met Kerri I told her that she needed to know two things about me: I don’t sing and I don’t pray. I imagine that was bracing news for a woman whose life has been about composing and performing music. I imagine it was especially disconcerting for a woman who stands firmly in a greater spirituality. I thought she needed to know.

A few short months later we were driving through the hills of Georgia en route to North Carolina, windows rolled down, a James Taylor and Carole King concert blaring through the sound system. James Taylor’s song, Something In The Way She Moves, began to play and I sang along. Kerri pulled the car over and began to weep. It turns out I sing after all. And I like it, too. That song became our song (one of them). Jim sang it at our wedding.

We have a dvd of the James Taylor and Carole King concert – at the Troubadour in Los Angeles. We watched it a few weeks ago for the first time. James Taylor told the audience that his song, our song, Something InThe Way She Moves, was the song that popped open his career. He said it was like that song was the doorway to the rest of his life. I knew exactly what he meant. A song. A door pops open. Life.

Yesterday was our second anniversary. Two years ago, Kerri recorded a song she wrote for me, for us. It’s called And Now. Amidst the chaos of our wedding week she somehow recorded it so I might enter the church, enter our wedding ceremony, to the song she wrote and sang, her song for me, our song. As I walked down the aisle that day, her song became the doorway to the rest of my life. In a moment, with a song, my life popped open.

Yesterday, after watching the sunrise we came home, made more coffee and sat on our bed (we call it the raft) with DogDog and BabyCat and told stories of our wedding week. It was the wedding equivalent of a barn raising. Our stories are the stories of all the amazing people who cooked, baked, carried, hauled, comforted, soothed, celebrated and helped us through the doorway. Amidst the stories, we reread our vows. We listened to the songs that to which we processed into the church, Gabriel’s Oboe for Kerri. And Now for me.

Listening, remembering, I sat on the raft and found myself weeping. I understood, perhaps for the first time, that on the other side of the doorway I routinely defined myself by what I was not: not a pray-er, not a singer. On this side of the doorway, there is life, rich, uncontrollable, vast, ever moving, no-need-for-nots or brakes or resistances. Just now. And Now.

And Now is on itunes

Use Joy Language

joy-croppedTripper Dog-Dog-Dog has moved through several names in his 3 years on earth. He has a cornucopia of names. For a while I dropped the “Tripper” part of his name and simply called him Dog-Dog. Now, much as a mother might use their child’s middle name, we only call him Tripper when he’s in trouble.

Lately I call him Dog-a-Dog (or doggadogga). He answers to Wag-A-Wag. He is an Australian Shepherd and has a bobbed tail that never stops wagging. He is a happy, happy boy. When I let him out in the morning I call him Fuss Bucket. When he comes back in I call him Poop Sack (for obvious reasons) or Bark Monster or Fur Ball. He sheds like a champion. When he circles through the rooms of our house looking for a safe place to deposit his bone, I (cleverly) call him Bone.

All the variations and derivatives are terms of endearment. Dog-Dog knows and responds in kind. Love is like that. Once, sitting on a train, I watched a grandfather lovingly toss his toddler grandson in the air saying, “You’re just Rubbish! That’s what you are! Rubbish!” The boy squealed with delight. The grandfather chuckled with pleasure and repeated the toss, “You’re just Rubbish!”

Language is a beautiful paradox. It is reductive even as it points to the unfathomable universe and the infinity of love. It is referential; we sometimes forget that the word “tree” is not the tree itself. It is merely an invented-phonetic-pointer toward something too complex to comprehend.

Language is powerful beyond comprehension. We use it to narrate our worlds, both inner and outer. The words we choose create the world we see. The words we choose define the world we inhabit. In my consulting/coaching days I used to love playing with exercises that revealed how easily we come to the language of gossip and blame. It requires almost no effort. Like sugar, hate-speak is addictive. It is the mark of a lazy mind.

The language of love takes some intention and consciousness. It demands conscious effort. It requires paying attention. It requires focusing the energy of the mind and, like any focus (or muscle) it demands exercise to be healthy. And, when exercised, it becomes easy. With great love, the word “Rubbish” can generate squeals of pleasure. The name “Fuss Bucket” will engender a full body joy-wag. And, a full body joy-wag will bring the love full circle. Love is like that. Joy is like that.

In his many books, Martin Prechtel writes beautifully about the power and necessity of speaking beautifully. Speaking beautifully creates a beautiful thinker and a beautiful thinker creates – narrates – a beautiful story, a beautiful world.

Prints/Mugs/Pillows/Cards/Totes

kerrisherwood.com   itunes:  kerri sherwood

 

Save