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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A Cautionary Tale [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on February 24, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

I’ve not read John Steinbeck‘s novel, The Winter Of Our Discontent, but now seems to be a good time. Here’s an overview: “John Steinbeck’s The Winter of Our Discontent is about Ethan Allen Hawley, a man from a fallen aristocratic family in a corrupt, post-WWII American town, who abandons his morals for wealth, exploring themes of disillusionment, integrity, and the decay of the American Dream as he manipulates his way to success, only to find emptiness. The story follows his internal struggle as he gives in to the materialistic pressures from his family and society, ultimately questioning the true cost of success and the nature of honesty in a self-serving world.” (A I Overview) 

Perhaps this would be an appropriate book for members of the republican party to read? They seem hellbent on abandoning their morals for wealth, manipulating their way to power (otherwise known as lying and gaslighting), actively assaulting the American Dream en route to finding emptiness.

It is cold comfort to realize that our current kerfuffle is not unique to our times. Moral bankruptcy has been – and continues to be – a persistent problem in the national psyche. My favorite phrase in the overview is this: the nature of honesty in a self-serving world.

As we’ve previous written, we hit the trail as often as possible to clear our minds, to step out of the daily hoohaw and reconnect with tangible reality. We inevitably focus on the beauty that surrounds us. It is inescapable to take a walk in the woods and not arrive at some level of understanding of interconnection. It is a short leap from there to the realization that any harm done to others is harm done to yourself. Any poison dumped into the river is poison dumped into yourself. And, on the flip-side, any service done for others is service to yourself. Any generosity offered to others is a generosity given to yourself. Thriving community is – and always has been – the blossom of other-serving.

If there is a persistent hoax afoot in our nation it is the republican-cowboy-notion of “every man for himself”. It is a lie. It is a swindler’s philosophy, a justification for raw exploitation. Exploitation of others inevitably fleeces everyone. It is not true, as the republicans-since-Reagan would have us believe, that the “welfare mothers” and “illegals” are taking advantage of our hard-earned tax dollars, it is in fact the Epstein Class, the morbidly wealthy, who have in the past 5 decades sucked over 50 trillion dollars of wealth from the middle and lower classes into the coffers of the 1%. What is the cost of success in a self-serving world? As many have written, we are witnessing the suicide of a superpower at the hands of a bloated oligarchy.

Here’s the last line of the overview: “Ultimately, the novel serves as a cautionary tale about the emptiness that results from sacrificing one’s principles for material gain, resonating with Steinbeck’s broader concerns about the state of the American character.” 

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE WINTER FLOWER

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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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Making and Unmaking [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on February 20, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

Barney-the-backyard-piano is disintegrating. His shiny facade has long since faded and now peels away, revealing the underlying layers. Those, too, are fragmenting. The textures of a lifetime exposed and made beautiful in contrast. The story of his making fully revealed in his unmaking.

We spread birdseed on Barney’s lid so he plays host to the black-capped chickadees and cardinals. The squirrels sun themselves on his disintegrating keyboard. His keys are almost unrecognizable, a comment my grandmother once made about her hands. “Almost unrecognizable,” she said and laughed, holding her hands to the light. She marveled at her translucence.

On a rare day of warmth, we sat in front of Barney in black plastic Adirondack chairs soaking in the winter sun. Dogga circled the yard barking at the gusts of wind. “This will carry us a long way,” I said, feeling the warmth reach all the way to my bones. She nodded. There is certainly more winter to come.

I closed my eyes and was suddenly lost in thought about the tears-in the-rain monologue: “I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe…All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.” Someday I will hold my hand up to the light and marvel at the story of my making revealed in my unmaking.

PEACE on the album AS IT IS © 2004 Kerri Sherwood

Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes and streaming on Pandora

read Kerri’s blogpost about BARNEY

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Hitched To Everything [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on February 19, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

If you are not paying attention you could walk right by them and never know that they are there. They are experts of stillness. They are masters of vanishing.

“Keep close to Nature’s heart… and break clear away, once in awhile, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean.” ~ John Muir

We quietly hoped we’d see them. It was a special day and we desired an affirmation of all things good. The trail was both muddy and icy, hard to navigate. We were on the verge of turning back but decided to go just a bit further. Had we turned back we would not have seen them.

Our messengers from another world did not disappoint. They leapt, white tails flashing in the sun, making certain we did not miss them. And then they were still. Watching us watching them.

“I understood at a very early age that in nature, I felt everything I should feel in church but never did. Walking in the woods, I felt in touch with the universe and with the spirit of the universe.” ~ Alice Walker

They are teachers of presence. It is no wonder that they have come to symbolize spiritual renewal. In my stillness, in my presence, all the roiling troubles of the troubled-human-world dropped away. I think it is what John Muir meant: my spirit was washed clean.

“When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the Universe.” ~ John Muir

After they delivered their message and leapt toward the river, I recognized that what is accessible in the woods is also available in my studio. Presence. My brushes hitch me to everything else in the Universe. It is one reason why I am so extraordinarily lucky. If I do not go to nature to wash clean my spirit, nature comes to find me in my work.

www.davidrobinsoncreative.com

read Kerri’s blogpost about DEER

www.kerrianddavid.com


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The Crust [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on February 18, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

“(Theodore) Roosevelt’s profound personal tragedy turned out to have national significance. The diseases that killed his wife and mother were diseases of filth and crowding—the hallmarks of the growing Gilded Age American cities…Now, though, it was clear that he, and other rich New Yorkers, had a personal stake in cleaning up the cities and making sure employers paid workers a living wage.” ~ Heather Cox Richardson, February 14, 2026

We are only a few years past COVID and you’d think the lesson would not be so easily forgotten. A deadly virus, like a hurricane, does not care how much money you have. It is indiscriminate.

If you are paying attention to the news you’ll have noticed that the authoritarian wannabe and his EPA just revoked the “finding” that greenhouse gases pose a risk to public health. A thorough scrubbing of science, just like their zealous white-wash of history, now collapses all federal climate regulations.

Apparently an excess of money has the capacity to delude the wealthy into believing that they are impervious to the impacts of climate change. In other words, the morbidly wealthy have removed themselves from inconveniences like interdependence. Their responsibility stops at their bank account and they somehow think that their bank account will protect them from the droughts, storms, rising oceans, collapsing food chains, poverty and diseases that a changing climate releases. Apparently, they think that they breathe air from another source, different than the rest of us.

As card carrying members of the Epstein class, the members of this kakistocracy, this government of the least competent, are so used to being above the law that they assume their free-rape-pass extends to the laws of nature. That they have come to believe their own lies is, I suppose, understandable. That is how delusion works. Their inability of recognizing that their pathology impacts all of us is more than pathetic; it is dangerous.

In their game of pretend they believe that they are impervious to truth. They act as if they are impervious to any greater responsibility to others. Sadly for the rest of us, their belief in their invulnerability is built upon layers and layers of lies, a wobbly petroleum-foundation supporting gobs of flabby-minded-short-sighted greed.

“For the crust presented by the life of lies is made of strange stuff. As long as it seals off hermetically the entire society, it appears to be made of stone. But the moment someone breaks through in one place, when one person cries out – “The emperor is naked” – when a single person breaks the rules of the game, thus exposing it as a game – everything suddenly appears in another light and the whole crust seems to be made of tissue on the point of tearing and disintegrating uncontrollably.” ~ Vaclav Havel, The Power of the Powerless

Not only is this emperor-wannabe naked, he – and his clown cadre – have no soul.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SOLAR FIELDS

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Once Again Walk [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on February 17, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

What is the truth of it? It is the question of our times, isn’t it?

We walked this path through our beloved Bristol woods a million times in the past. Always in the daylight. Rarely at sunset. Since they built a ropes course that cut through a significant portion of the woods, a course that draws rowdy crowds, we stopped hiking there. Too many people. Too much noise. We walk our trails to get away from the chaos. We mourned it.

A candlelight Valentine hike enticed us to return to our woods. We signed up for the latest possible slot, knowing there would be less people later at night. We almost didn’t go. We felt exhausted from the day. We ran through our list of reasons why we should stay home but rallied, tied on our boots, and drove to the woods.

The Pringle Center at the head of the trail was buzzing with activity. People who’d finished their trail walk made valentines, ate cookies and drank hot tea. We passed through long enough to check-in and then stepped into the quiet of the night.

The muscle memory was surprising. I believe we could have walked the path blindfolded. The trail was like an old friend celebrating our return with luminaria. It was as if we easily picked up a conversation after years of absence, as if no time had elapsed. Our feet knew where to go.

There was no hurry. We lingered. We stopped and gazed at the stars. We listened for deer. We had time to walk a second loop. We were the last to leave the trail.

We sorted through many of life’s trials and tribulations walking this path through Bristol Woods. We’ve made significant life decisions on this trail. We often began our walks with troubled hearts and left the woods with quiet minds, ready to live another day. On this night, the eve of my 65th birthday, walking our second loop, all alone, the last people on the trail, we talked of what we are learning as we age, what illusions we are no longer chasing, what simple abundance we find ourselves embracing, what freedoms we find as we put our lives into perspective. We talked of gratitude for each other and reveled in the opportunity to once again walk in quiet through our Bristol woods.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE WOODS

www.kerrianddavid.com

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To Be Home [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on February 16, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

Until I was 52 years old I did not know what the word “home” meant. I understood it abstractly, as an intellectual concept, as a hypothetical place of belonging…I just did not know what it felt like to be home. I was a wanderer.

I remember a moment, many years ago, when my pal Robert gave me some wise cautionary advice. I was footloose and flirting with a woman. He said, “Be careful. You don’t get involved with a woman like her unless you are ready to settle down.” I thought his caution was about the woman but later realized his wise words had nothing to do with her and everything to do with me. My friend knew me. I was restless. A wanderer.

There is more to the word “home” than a pin in a map. Google can give me directions to a location but can never show me the way home.

Home is the way Kerri and I start each day. It is different than the way others start their day, recognizable only to us and Dogga. Home is the tiny generosities that we offer each other, unique to us, unlike the considerations others offer their significant other. Home is knowing what she is feeling before she does. Home is sensing where she is in the house or in the world even when I cannot see her.

Home is knowing that she reads my mind and not minding.

I knew I was home the moment we met. I knew I was home when home had nothing at all to do with settling. I knew I was home when my wandering had a clear direction, a daily destination, a vibrant space between us that only we are capable of creating, a space that Google Maps or AI is incapable of finding or replicating or pinning down.

I now know what it feels like to be home and that feeling travels where ever we decide to wander.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE MAP

www.kerrianddavid.com

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Two Sacred Objects [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on February 13, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

There are two sacred objects in the life of Dogga: snowman and candy cane. Both are cheap plastic squeaky toys that he carries from place to place, repositioning them throughout the day. His ultimate safe spot, the most sacred space for his most sacred objects, is in Kerri’s studio, either beneath or positioned close to her piano.

I believe her studio has become his sacred place because it is her sacred place. Her piano is her most sacred object. When she enters the room and plays he always joins her. He walks loops beneath the piano. The Dog Whisperer says that dogs are human-energy-readers and I think it is true. Kerri’s aura changes when she plays her piano. When she plays her energy brightens; it becomes pure. Dogga senses that. He sees it. Is it any wonder that he would bring his sacred objects into this sacred place?

Yesterday she sat down to play. I heard the clackety-clack of Dogga’s nails on the wooden floor as he scooped up his snowman and headed for the studio. I stopped what I was doing and literally absorbed the profound beauty of the moment. A pure moment. Two sacred objects, piano and snowman, brought together by the love shared between two sacred beings.

LEGACY on the album RELEASED FROM THE HEART © 1995 Kerri Sherwood

Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes and streaming on Pandora

read Kerri’s blogpost about PIANO AND SNOWMAN

www.kerrianddavid.com

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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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