Read The Shadow [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on April 19, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

Kerri said, “Look at that shadow! It makes me think of the collar Ruth Bader Ginsburg wore with her robe!”

Ruth’s collar was not my first thought. I went straight for Spirograph. The colorful spiral drawings made possible by the magic of plastic rings and wheels.

I suppose most people would have their moment of shadow association and move on to other topics but not us. Our association led to another association: what might Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s collar and a Spirograph have in common?

The artistry of mathematics. Action scribed from a center of integrity.

The Notorious RBG once said, “I am optimistic in the long run. A great man once said that the true symbol of the United States is not the bald eagle, it’s the pendulum, and when the pendulum swings too far in one direction, it will go back.”

The colorful line scribes an arc all the way to the edge of the ring and then, in perfect pattern form, scribes an arc across the board to the other side. And again. And again. Until a beautiful pattern, a brilliant complex roulette is formed. A single line that, at its inception looked random or out of control, running to the extremes, weaves – in the long run – a unified, inclusive, connected design.

Optimism in the long run. The symbol in a collar. The certainty of tides. The balance point found in all polarities. So much hope! A visit from RBG and a memory of a childhood toy. And, all of this from a single shadow cast on a dresser on an early spring morning.

read Kerri’ blogpost about SHADOWS

Filed under: Flawed Wednesday, Metaphor, Pattern, Perspective | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

Note The Trail [on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on April 18, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

Our pin-on-the-map lands between two airports: O’Hare to the south and Milwaukee’s General Mitchell to the north. On clear summer days, or unseasonably warm days like last week, we recline in our Adirondack chairs and watch the planes Etch-A-Sketch in the sky. According to our recent 5 minute contrail-count-study, at any moment, there are more planes in the sky than one might believe.

It always makes we wonder if Ben Franklin or Leonardo daVinci joined us on the patio would they calmly count contrails from their Adirondack chair or would their heads explode at the wonder of it all. It amuses me to imagine Leonardo hopping around with excitement and pointing to the sky.

In my recent past the phrase “digital exhaust” was relevant to my work in the wild, wild world of software development. Like a contrail, the output of our incessant tapping of keys leaves a trail marking our arc through digital space/time. The particular characteristic that had me hopping out of my chair was the notion that “reading” the digital contrail not only marks our past but is a great way of foreseeing future action. Past patterns are terrific indicators of future behavior. Just ask the FBI.

Kerri keeps a paper calendar where she records the significant and insignificant details of every day. It’s a behavior she inherited from her mother. Beaky was a great recorder of events and maker of lists. If I want to know if we had dinner with 20 in November of 2016, Kerri flips open her 2016 calendar and hits me with the details: yes we did and we had blackened Tilapia, small potatoes, and roasted asparagus. I’ve lost many a debate to the entries in the calendar. Her calendars are our personal analog contrail. Our unique life arc through space/time.

It’s helped me answer one of Tom’s questions about his great-grandmother Isabelle. He found a box with stacks of daily flip-calendars that Isabelle kept, each day had a notation about the weather. A hardworking ranch woman, standing on the porch of the farmhouse, in the days before airplanes, she stared at the sky and made a note in her calendar: hot sun, not a cloud in the sky. Tom looked at me as we went through the stacks in the box, asking, “Why would she do that?”

Contrails.

read Kerri’s blogpost about CONTRAILS

Filed under: Metaphor, Pattern, Two Artists Tuesday | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments »

Celebrate The Symphony [on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on April 4, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

The return of the frogs. No, it’s not the title of a b-grade-horror film. It’s one of our favorite rites of spring. Their chorus is deafening, a sound celebration of the season’s cycle into renewal. We look forward to and celebrate the day of their return.

A short month ago we walked across a snowy field, still a bit in shock at the scrape-clearing of the tall grasses and brush. Broken bits of stick and root poked through the snow. The picture of devastation. In just a few short weeks, the field became a bog – evidently the perfect performance hall for the musician-frogs signaling life’s return with their playing.

They’ve always played in this spot along the trail but this year their symphony is made particularly poignant by the seeming wreckage of their environment. This year, to our ears, they perform a rousing song of perseverance. A composition of resilience.

They’ve also awakened a question in us. We ask it every year but this time it is made more mysterious because the bog is exposed. We can see everything except the frogs. The air is alive with sound while the water is still. We’ve stood, awash in the noisy vibration, yet can see nary a ripple in the surface.

How is it possible to shake the limbs of trees with joyous sound without disturbing the fen? The musicians are invisible.

There can only be one explanation: They are magic, these frogs in their spring renewal, popple-free playing while stirring our hearts and imaginations.

read Kerri’s blogpost about FROG BOG

Filed under: Awakening, Gratitude, Pattern, Two Artists Tuesday | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

Ask The Same Questions [on DR Thursday]

Posted on March 30, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

Their call is ancient and beautiful. I imagine their unique voice reaches back to the pterodactyl. Sandhill cranes. We live on their migration path. Each spring they stop for a rest, passing through, heading north. The Des Plaines river, surrounded by abundant farm fields, provide ample road snacks and safe places for respite.

Last fall, during the southern migration, a crane couple took up residence in a cornfield we pass en route to our trail. They stayed so long that they became a fixture. We expected to see them. Statuesque, always together, I wondered if they were as excited to see us as we were of seeing them. “There they are!” the cranes point to our little black toaster car. “Those two are always together,” they observe. “I wonder where they are headed?”

We make the same observations and ask the same questions of them.

When we first saw their tracks in the snow it felt like a gift, like seeing two hawks circling or several deer peeking from the willows. Their prints were huge, almost too big to be real. They were so distinct that they reminded me of something Andy Goldsworthy might create. Patterns in the snow. Marks mysteriously etched across the landscape.

Were it stone instead of snow, white quartzite, these amazing marks would be petroglyphs. Abraded to leave us a message, a symbol whose meaning was lost in time but inspire speculation none-the-less. “Where did they come from,” we ask, knowing there is no answer but we have to ask anyway.

Our footprints cross theirs on the path. Brad does a masterful crane-walk-imitation. We laugh as man becomes bird, eyes intense. The original theatrical impulse. I look back at the our prints crossing the crane’s and marvel at the image. This startling canvas will certainly melt. Another reminder of Andy Goldsworthy. The power of impermanence, like a sacred sand painting, a spirit captured for a brief moment, witnessed, evoking power, and then disappearing into sun and wind and time.

Canopy, 48x48IN, acrylic

read Kerri’s blogpost about CRANES

Canopy © 2008 David Robinson

Filed under: Art, DR Thursday, Pattern, Seeing | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

Look In [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on March 22, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

“I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you can see all kinds of things you can’t see from the center.” ~Kurt Vonnegut

Yesterday I applied for a job that is all about narratives told from the edges of society. I’m not sure why it surprised me to find such a cool-to-me job; our community seems addicted to shattering so there are plenty of small edges to be found. Small edges are fallacious and serve a myriad of false centers. Our survival will depend upon whether or not we can awaken from the shatter-narrative and make the decision to direct our broken focus toward a common center. No small feat.

It is the role of the shaman, the explorer, the artist, the researcher to stand on the edge and report back to the community what is seen and unseen. The voice from the edge is rarely welcome since the report is capable of popping delusions or pulling the sheep’s clothing from the wolf. Page one of the autocrats’ handbook instructs the elimination of artists and educators. Making an enemy of the eyes-that-see, demonizing educators and thinkers – the people who recognize pattern and metaphor. The game of Us-and-Them necessitates silencing the voices capable of calling out the wolf. Autocrats require blind sheep that follow without question.

Some famous edge sitters: Galileo. Cesar Chavez. Rosa Parks. Nelson Mandela. Susan B. Anthony. Albert Einstein. Frederick Douglass, a former slave and leader of the abolitionist movement, wrote extensively about what we call Critical Race Theory; it was clear in his view from the edge. It’s not a new theory. It’s an old pattern with a new name. I think he might denounce his Republican party affiliation were he alive today; they would certainly silence his voice. He would be fired were he a professor in Florida today. As would Martin Luther King, another famous voice from the edge.

Voices of reason are often voices from the edges. Voices of the future are always voices from the edges. Galileo was silenced for suggesting that the earth circled the sun and not the other way around. Over time, the voices from the edge, when authentic, always make the center better, the community stronger. Susan B. Anthony spent her life on the edge, lobbying the center, to secure for women the right to vote.

Progress. Growth. They are rarely inspired from the tight grip at the center. Silence the edges and the community atrophies. Stop the movement and the body dies. That page was left out of the autocrats’ handbook for obvious reasons.

read Kerri’s blogpost about EDGES

Filed under: Flawed Wednesday, Identity, Metaphor, Pattern, Perspective, Seeing | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments »

Hold Space [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on March 15, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

I just realized why the stripped forest is having such an impact on me. While opening the back door to let Dogga out, my dials spun and it slapped me in the face. I am like the forest.

For several minutes, staring at the photograph, writing then rejecting, then writing and again rejecting what I’d written, I decided to get up and let Dogga out. This picture was making me anxious. Moving around has always been good for me when I’m thought-wrestling.

I am like this forest. Exposed. Chips and debris are everywhere. Water is overtaking the trees.

I was writing about a question Justin asked one night at dinner. “What’s your stance about secular Calvinism?” he asked.

“I don’t think I have one,” I replied. Justin’s eyebrows hit the ceiling and I made a snap decision not to follow my reply with an explanation. He was sorting his belief and searching his heart. Empty space was more useful than cramming my erudite-and-empty justification into the moment.

Insight requires space. Lots of space.

I wish I could express how rare it is for me to keep my mouth closed when I have a thought on a topic. Kerri will laugh aloud when I read this to her. “No joke!” she’ll say. I wanted to say to Justin, “I don’t have a stance because I think it’s a given.” His question was akin to asking about my stance on the existence of the moon. No culture sees itself clearly.

No person (me) sees himself clearly.

Chips and debris. The river has overrun its banks. One half of the photo is the result of natural forces. The other half is man-made. Choices. Circumstance and intention. This landscape, once so familiar, will never be the same.

I’ve spent my life cultivating my capacity to see pattern and metaphor. It’s an artist’s prerogative to make the strange familiar and the familiar strange. I am the forest. Familiar, yet completely unknown. Stripped for rejuvenation.

Insight requires space. Perspective requires distance. Perhaps the reason I left open space in my conversation with Justin is something I need do for myself, too. Searching my heart, I am the forest. Stripped of invasive plants I can see all the way to the river. So much space.

What is my stance? Right now, thankfully, I don’t think I have one. I’m holding the space for insight to come.

read Kerri’s blogpost THE FOREST

Filed under: Awakening, Flawed Wednesday, Identity, Metaphor, Pattern | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

Greet The Snow [on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on February 7, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

Like the return of an old friend, the snow finally came. It’s funny. Most winters we yearn for warm summer days. This winter our conversation has been about the absence of any real snowfall. We’ve had dustings but nothing worthy of a snowman. It made me realize that cold weather is no fun unless there’s something to stomp through or ski on. Walking in the cold is just…cold. Walking in the snow is an event.

The snow also brings an aesthetic magic. It paints the trees. Since the return of our old friend snow, we regularly stand in the kitchen and stare in awe at the striking lines tracing the path of the limbs. The lines change color throughout the day, morphing from purple through white to vibrant orange. It re-animates the forest left barren by fallen leaves. What was brown and sad a few short weeks ago is made remarkable, proud in its frosty adornment.

The day the snow came home we strapped on our heavy boots, slipped into our thick coats, pulled our hats onto our heads, and stepped into the muted world, a quiet that is only made possible by fluffy falling flakes. We pulled up our hoods and walked a loop around the neighborhood taking the trail that leads behind the Kemper Center and along the lake. Turning our pink faces toward crazy flakes made us giggle.

The snow beckons. It calls us out. Cold toes and layered clothes, we’ll appreciate the change until that fateful day when we think the snow has overstayed its welcome. We’ll turn our conversation back to warmth and the deck, and yearn for sunny days. Fickle people, never content for very long.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SNOW

Filed under: Gratitude, Pattern, Two Artists Tuesday | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

See Beyond [on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on September 6, 2022 by davidrobinsoncreative

Breck, the small aspen tree in our backyard, is beginning to change its colors for the season. Although we have yet in our neighborhood to smell autumn in the air, Breck is giving us a heads-up.

A decade ago I wrote that, in order to see beyond preconception (thought), artists and entrepreneurs need to master two skills: pattern recognition and metaphor. Look for patterns and you will eventually see beyond them. See beyond the pattern and, as Ash Bhoopathy said, “The familiar will become strange and the strange will become familiar.” What an amazing definition of metaphor.

In this pattern cycle, the green becomes brilliant golden yellow as Breck turns her summer attention from the sun and sends her focus into the root for winter nourishment.

Kerri’s photographs are often extreme close-ups. She has a bit of Georgie O’Keeffe in her artist’s eye. Often, when showing me the latest photo, she pulls the-already-close-up-image into a detail. I am always amazed at the pattern beneath the pattern beneath the pattern. The plumes of the grasses are a festival of pattern. The many feet of the caterpillar, perfect suction cups.

Despite our dedication to our perceived differences, we, too are a festival of pattern. The operative word is “perceived.” Pull the lens close-in and our divisions disappear as rapidly as our skin color. Pull the focus farther out and we move together in a sweet-and-sour ballet. Koyannisqatsi. History repeats, a pattern, like the cycle of the seasons. Order moves to chaos to order to chaos…mainly in our minds. Order is what we crave, so purblind are we to seeing the ubiquity of pattern.

The plumes explode pink and red on the grasses The chipmunks have picked up their foraging pace. The geese have reappeared. The miracles are in the familiar, strange and surprising when seen again for the first time. The feel of the hand of the one you love. The moon on a clear cold night. The yellow rim reaching through the green quaking leaves.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BRECK’S LEAVES

Filed under: Metaphor, Pattern, Two Artists Tuesday, Uncategorized | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

See The Pattern [on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on August 30, 2022 by davidrobinsoncreative

“To live on a day-to-day basis is insufficient for human beings; we need to transcend, transport, escape; we need meaning, understanding, and explanation; we need to see over-all patterns in our lives.” ~ Oliver Sacks

Entrepreneur Ash Bhoopathy said, “The more you see, the more you see patterns.” It’s true. Take some time and sit on a busy street corner and watch. If your eyes are open, you’ll notice that you are surrounded by patterns. Not only the bricks in the buildings but the patterns of travel. The space between a red light and green light. The beeping of the crosswalk. The suits and ties. The paths walked by busy commuters.

“Comfort” and “home” are defined by patterns. What do you do to get comfortable? How do you signal the end your busy workday? Is it the same as you did yesterday?

Expectations are patterns, too.

Study “story” long enough and you’ll discover, as Kurt Vonnegut did, that there are patterns beneath every plot. We tell ourselves the same storyline over and over. Hallmark has its story pattern defined to the minute. It’s the secret to their appeal: the comfort of knowing the pattern. The comfort of asking, not “What” will happen, but “How” will it happen.

It’s a great paradox. The more you see, the more you see pattern. Yes. Yet, in order to see, often it’s necessary to disturb your patterns. That’s the beauty of patterns. When you are inside them, living a day of your life, you rarely see your patterns. It’s the reason Julia Cameron built artists dates into her Artist’s Way. Do something different. Break your routine. Challenge your expectation. Get out of your pattern rut. Only then will you be capable of seeing the pattern.

If you desire to change anything about your world, about this world, the change you seek will ultimately be a change in pattern. It’s a good practice to begin seeing them.

read Kerri’s blogpost about PATTERN

[the pattern image is the mat at our backdoor]

Filed under: Pattern, Seeing, Two Artists Tuesday | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment »

Dowse Your Data [on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on August 22, 2022 by davidrobinsoncreative

My favorite question of the week: What is the science behind divining?

I admit to laughing out loud when I read the question. In a world run amok with science-deniers and rabid propagandists, we might as well answer the question with a qualifier: it depends on what you decide to believe. Or, answer a question with a question: do you really want to know what the science says?

Since belief-divining is all the rage these days, the best available advice for adherents of critical thought is, “Don’t waste your breath.”

I took a peek at ‘dowsing’ in wikipedia. Divining is generally attributed to “ideomotor phenomena.” A psychological response. An accidental movement. Science reports dowsing is projection.

What is the science behind love? What is the love behind science? A moment ago Kerri frowned when I told her she was the sole-object of my ideometric phenomena. She’s learned not to ask and has developed a keen ability to move on from my thoughts to thoughts with more substance.

Science doesn’t prove. Science hypothesizes, gathers data, and then reports findings. Science is objective. It is both rooted in data and is open-minded. New data always come in. It takes an open mind to successfully roll with the theory of relativity. It takes an open mind to open to the data. Excessive carbon in the air is heating the planet. We are simultaneously cutting down the earth’s lungs to make room for more cattle production.

What’s your hypothesis of our recent spate of 1000 year storms year after year? Science is offering a fairly clear picture.

What’s the science behind divination? The science of seeing into the future? Projection?

I was delighted when I stumbled on an NPR story about U.K. Water Companies Sometimes Use Dowsing Rods. The companies admitted to the use of divination but were quick to add, that it’s not a company-wide policy. And then reinforced their disclaimer with the only disclaimer that we universally and wholeheartedly accept: it doesn’t cost money. If it cost money, we’d take it seriously. Like pet rocks. Or reality tv.

Deloitte (using scientific methods) reports the cost of climate change to the U.S.A. economy will be 14.5 trillion dollars over the next 50 years. We can expect to lose 900,000 jobs each year. Ideometric phenomena? Scientific divination? Data-dowsing?

For adherents of critical thought, it occurs to me to update the best available advice with another question: How much time do we have to waste?

read Kerri’s blog post on Y

Filed under: Merely A Thought Monday, Metaphor, Pattern, Perspective, Uncategorized | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

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