Gaze Through It [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

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Once, doing a night dive, through the inky black water, the sum total of what I could see was what existed in the beam of my flashlight. That experience provided insights into the limitations of perception and the power of focus placement. We see what we decide to focus on. We never see the whole picture.

It also gave me the Alice-in-Wonderland feeling of looking through a tunnel at an alternate reality. Peering through the portal, strange shapes darted across my beam. I was tempted to swim into the light, toward the illuminated world, but knew that I would never reach it. “There” was in constant motion and moved as I moved. It was hypnotic.

There is a old tree stump on our walks that Kerri likes to visit. It has a knot that serves as a looking glass. She peers through it and sometimes takes a picture to record the changing seasons, life as seen through the magic knot. Her photographs are a record of another kind of portal, another alternate reality only this one is not fluid. It is a fixed point of view. Yet, were I to sit for many days and gaze through this knot hole I’d be overwhelmed by the endless life-in-motion slowly moving within this limited view.

I used to lead groups through an exercise called The Long Walk. It is simple. Walk in any direction for ten minutes. However, if anyone can discern your movement, you are walking too fast. In fact, if you cover more than a few inches of territory in ten minutes, you have moved too fast. The Long Walk creates quite the challenge in a body used to racing through life. After the panic and frustration of slowing way down, an amazing thing happens. Senses open. Perceptions sharpen. The rich sounds and smells and breezes that generally go unnoticed crackle into presence. Tight concentration morphs into wide awareness. And, for a few short breaths, the mind ceases its babble and nothing stands between the walker and the walk.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about TWO VIEWS

 

springfall website box copy

©️ 2019 kerri sherwood & david robinson

 

Follow The Trail [on KS Friday]

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I like the idea of a blueprint for souls. As if each life has an underlying design. As if each day of life was part of the overall construction.

When Kerri and I talk about our story we often talk about design. The impossible sequence of random coincidences that led to our paths crossing. Have you ever played that game: what if I left the house 2 minutes earlier? What if I’d decided not to go?

Lately, many people have been telling us their stories of things-that-were-meant-to-happen. “The pieces just fell into place,” they say. “That’s the sign it was supposed to be.” I’m not the only one who likes the notion of a blueprint. Ease is a sign.

We can only see the connected dots when looking backward. Sense-making is rarely a forward looking affair. Yet, Kerri’s BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL is like a popcorn trail through the woods. It is a kernel of hope that leads to another kernel of hope and, if you follow the hope-trail long enough, you come to a place where you can turn around and see with clear eyes the path, the unique life that was designed by you, just for you.

 

 

BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL on the album BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL is available on iTunes & CDBaby

 

read Kerri’s blog post about BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL

 

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blueprint for my soul/blueprint for my soul ©️ 1997 kerri sherwood

Care To See [on Two Artists Tuesday]

ferry copy

Georgia O’Keeffe was a master of the close-up. I imagine she would have loved this digital age, this era of easy photography. Walking the arroyos of New Mexico with her cell phone, snapping hundreds of photographs of the minutiae. Capturing the tiny beauty that we fast movers are too busy to see. I love that, before cameras were ubiquitous, Georgia was in the habit of walking slow. Looking closely. Seeing.

One evening in London my pal Robert took me to meet Jonathan Miller. We wiled away a long evening talking about art and theatre. Jonathan invited me upstairs to see his studio. He was preparing a series of his photographs for an exhibit and book.  They were an amazing collection of close-ups, textures of peeling paint, gritty brick, rotting fabric draped on walls. None of it was staged. Away on a directing assignment, he would walk the streets with his camera, looking for beauty in the overlooked everyday things. “It’s all around us,” he said, “we just don’t see it.”

It’s true. It takes a wee-bit of intention to be in this life and not run through it. Looking for beauty. It’s all around if we care to see it. Jonathan Miller’s advice: stand still. It is not necessary to seek it; it’s right here if you care to see it.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about the FERRY IMAGE

 

PAX morsel copy

a close up of ‘pax.’ looking closely. make an offer. pax needs a home

 

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pax ©️ 2015 david robinson

De-Compress [on Two Artists Tuesday]

nature's stripes copy

I had no intention of writing about white rot fungi. I never imagined myself in the course of my lifetime writing or even being interested in white rot fungi. In fact, in scholarly terms, I have no business writing about it. But, here I am. White. Rot. Fungi.

I live in the age of the internet and Google. I remember the moment in the mid 1990’s that I realized the world had changed! I was doing research for a play about Joan of Arc and, instead of using the card catalogue and spending days in the library scouring the stacks, I was trying this new thing called ‘the internet.’ In a matter of moments, I found the complete transcript of Joan’s trial. The actual notes from the actual scribe that sat in the room in the 15th century during that very political/religious trial! The scribe’s notes were typed for my consumption, digitized, and available for my 20th century eyes. Information-gathering was suddenly so easy! Then, I discovered the notes for the 2nd trial! Ten years after burning Joan at the stake they reconsidered their decision and admitted a mistake. It was also, no doubt, a very political/religious trial; the making of a saint! Days of dedicated research compressed into a few hours of poking around. It was a kind of miracle. I reached through time and a scribe handed me his meticulous notes. “Do not judge us,” he whispered.

And, so, white rot fungi. Kerri shot this gorgeous photograph (she calls it ‘nature’s stripes’) and we chose it as a prompt for our studio melange. This morning, wondering what to write about nature’s stripes, I asked myself, “What’s all over that nurse log?” In less time than it took to find Joan’s second trial I had my answer. It digests dead wood.

The name, white rot fungi, a collection of words, does not do poetic justice to this species. It is the vital middle stage in a snapshot of the life cycle. On the left, the vibrant green shoots of new life, spring. The middle: a nurse log, a fallen tree, providing food for the fungi. And on the right, the brittle brown leaves returning to the soil, nutrient for the next new growth. A hundred year cycle captured in a single image.

This photograph is also a compression, making it possible for me to easily see an unimaginable life cycle. Yet another miracle. Yet another way to reach through time and see.

I forgot how difficult it once was. Finding facts. Blowing dust from pages made it somehow more important to check the data. Reaching through time to a reader in the 25th century, I whisper, “Don’t judge us. It happened so fast, this enamoring of the easy, this nonchalance of meaning, this indifference to information”.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about NATURE’S STRIPES

read Kerri’s blog post about White Rot Fungi

 

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pray now/john’s secret ©️ 2010 david robinson

Open Your Hand [on Merely A Thought Monday]

magical:painful cropped copy

Asked another way, this question might read, “Why do we hang on so long to the painful stuff and so easily let go of the magical parts?” Or, “Why do we so easily focus on the obstacles and so rarely look for the possibilities?”

Sit in any cafe and eavesdrop and you will mostly hear tales of woe. Any good news editor will tell you that the stories of goodness are a much harder sell than the stories of tragedy. It seems we are attracted like moths to a flame to the struggles, the uphill battles, the pain-full disasters. It is the most human of activities, whipping up and diving into stories of calamity.

In a bygone era, when wearing my consulting cap, I loved doing an exercise with groups that revealed their addiction to blame stories. Blame-stories are like sugar. They are fun to tell. It is yummy to consume handfuls of it’s-not-my-fault or it-happened-to me and once the blame-story gets rolling, it blossoms into an endless dessert buffet. Everyone rolls down the line and loads their plate.

Hanging onto pain. Grasping onto regret. Whipping up conflict. Tug of war. It is so easy. Close the hand and make a fist. Shake it at the sky.

The magical parts? They happen. There’s no need to keep an accounting. Words are woefully inadequate in heart-matters so the story is harder to tell. An open hand is available for the next moment. An open hand is not holding on.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about MAGICAL/PAINFUL

 

 

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face the rain (certainly I will finish it this year…) ©️ 2019 david robinson

Be A Part Of The Wind [on KS Friday]

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I am a sturdy proponent of The Paris Theory. I made it up so it only follows that I am a stalwart adherent. The Paris Theory goes like this: if you try to get to Paris you will end up in Kansas City every time; the fastest way to Paris is to shoot for Kansas City.

A quick read of The Paris Theory implies that Kansas City is a lesser destination but that’s to miss the point entirely. The point? Adventure, rich vibrant experience, is available everywhere. And, most often, the richest experiences come along because “the plan” collapsed, the plane was diverted, the seat reassigned. In The Paris Theory, Paris is not a place. It is an orientation to experience. The quickest way to Paris is to recognize that there is no greater or lesser place – especially when you are standing in it. Open. Look around. Art and life and love and danger and interesting people, food…vital experiences are everywhere.

Artists steal ideas and I must now confess that The Paris Theory is ancient. I slapped some shiny new lipstick on it to make it my own.

We are here for such a short time. The winds blow us here and there. Sometimes it feels like we are in control, bobbing along, but then strong winds come and push us in new directions. How much time do we spend wishing we were some other place and miss where we are? How much time do we delude ourselves into thinking there will be a firm and lasting resolution? An arrival? The winds never stop blowing. As Kerri said [and so beautifully composed], “We are part of the wind.”

 

PART OF THE WIND on the album BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL is available on iTunes & CDBaby

 

read Kerri’s blog post about PART OF THE WIND

 

ChasingBubbles (full) copy

The Paris Theory = Chasing Bubbles

 

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part of the wind/blueprint for my soul ©️ 1996 kerri sherwood

chasing bubbles ©️ 2019 david robinson

Bend It [on DR Thursday]

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The terminology in art reads like so much poetry. Zero point perspective. Chiaroscuro. Foreshortening. Rococo. Image plane. Vanishing point. Oblique projection. Intaglio. It goes on and on, these tasty and magical words.

They should be poetry. They describe fields of possibility. They attempt to codify the making of illusion or the impulse of an explorer. Bending space. Deconstructing and reconstituting. Perceptual distinctions. The visual language of cultural norms.

There has been for centuries a mathematics of art. Optics and relativity, movements in science that have their conjoined artistic twins. Rebellions. The maintenance of form. Rules and rule breakers.

I sat in on a class taught by a master artist. He was a lover of landscape (another yummy word) and taught his students an earth-shattering lesson: reality, like time, cannot be caught. It’s a fools errand to try. Painting is a conversation. It is an infinite game. Bend space. Move the tree. Color is fluid, moving, never fixed.  Be like color. Play. Discover. Transform.

I do not consider myself a landscape painter. And then I remember the master teacher and I remove the word ‘landscape’ from my vernacular. And then, suddenly, there is a universe of movement, color, light, and shapes to bend.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about a LANDSCAPE SKETCH

 

Newborn copy

newborn. deconstruction. reconstitution.

 

coffee cups in scion website box copy

 

newborn /landscape sketch ©️ 2019 david robinson