Infuse Them With Hope [on Two Artists Tuesday]

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Go to the AS YOU IS website and this is what you will find:

As You Is® was created to start conversations… to cause total strangers to smile… to make people think… to get others to feel so accepted they break out in impromptu dance… and to put a serious chink in the armor of racism.

Our hope is one day children can embrace being uniquely themselves, where they feel safe being different and where old people —like our founder Michael Fornwald — can age gracefully or ungracefully sans self-contempt.

Please join us by infecting others with hope one hella cool t-shirt or cap at a time.

It happened to us, just as Michael intended. Strolling down the aisle of the farmer’s market, we saw the shirts and stopped in our tracks. “What is that?” I asked Kerri. She smiled, and then laughed, and finally said, “Let’s go find out.” We talked with Michael for the next 20 minutes. He shared his story. We shared ours. We talked about acceptance of self and others. We talked of the need for hope in these ugly, divided times. And while we talked, others saw the shirts and stopped in their tracks.

We stepped aside and watched as people did double-takes. Some hovered and talked. Some danced and laughed. And talked. Some ventured into the center to talk, as we did, with Michael. The shirts started conversations.

Call it a brand or call it a mission, in Michael’s case, it is both. It’s genuine. It’s based on the premise that acceptance of others begins with acceptance of self. You’d be a fool to argue with the premise.

Amidst our divided national narrative it is a serious and legitimate question to ask: would you rather infect others with hatred or with hope? Michael’s answer is clear and he’s doing more than talking about it.

We are the proof that it’s working. We walked away infused with hope, stepping just a little bit lighter, and the conversation he inspired in us hasn’t stopped in the weeks since we happened upon his shirts.

as you is website screenshot copyGO HERE. BUY SHIRTS. SUPPORT THE INFUSION OF HOPE

 

read Kerri’s blog post about AS YOU IS

 

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SHOP KERRI’S ‘Be Kind’ DESIGNS

 

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be kind designs ©️ 2018 kerri sherwood & david robinson

 

Smile [on Two Artists Tuesday]

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When we started our Two Artists Tuesday designs, our subtitle was “Making Stuff for Humans.” We used the word “stuff” loosely. The idea was to bring smiles. we were rooted in whimsy (something I constantly need to practice…).

Over the course of Studio Melange, our idea has morphed. The “stuff” we bring is not only our designs but our experiences as well. And, our latest experience was a riot of fun and the first of many Sip-N-Strums. What could be better than a beginner’s lesson with wine. It makes a good house party, a killer corporate event (we can teach anything through this magical instrument), as well as a fun night out. Whimsy, whimsy, whimsy in a world of whipped up division, ugly partisan fighting and a dedicated focus on the dark things. The ukulele is good medicine.

The ukulele is smile producing. It is impossible to pick it up without feeling playful. Even if you are being forced to play, as one unsuspecting husband was when he came to the Iron Depot Winery with his wife, only to discover that he’d stepped into a ukulele trap. He was in stage-one-full-resistance-mode until he picked up that little green ukulele. Once he wrapped his big bear paws around that little instrument it was all sip-n-smiles from that moment forward.

The quote on our site captures it best. “The ukulele is a portal through which only happy people can pass.” I’d offer this thought as well: the ukulele is a portal through which grumpy people enter their happy place. It is good stuff for humans.

 

 

read Kerri’s blog post about SIP-N-STRUM

 

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Measure The Distance [on Two Artists Tuesday]

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I am surrounded by reminders of how quickly this life passes – or, perhaps, how much has changed in the span of my life.  Joseph Campbell told the story of, as a boy, seeing one of the first flights of a new invention, an air-o-plane. “It was like a flying bicycle,” he said. He finished his remembrance by remarking, “My God, now we are on the moon.” We are among the first human beings to measure our lives according to the blazing changes brought by technological advancement.

What is the distance between three channels, rabbit ears on a black and white television, and HULU available on all of our “devices?” Last night we watched the Barbara Streisand, Kris Kristofferson version of A Star Is Born and laughed heartily at the eight track tape players and telephones attached by cords to the wall. What is the distance between Stars Being Born in 1976 and those about to be Born in 2018?

Kerri and I like to poke around antique stores. It is common for us to stop and point at something, saying, “Hey, we had that.” Or, the more amusing variation, “Hey, those are our mixing bowls!” When a ten year old computer is considered a dinosaur, a 20 year old mixing bowl becomes an antique. “They’d put our stove in a museum,” Kerri quips. And what about those tv trays, Swanson frozen dinners (what was really in that Salisbury steak and those “mashed potatoes?”), the Carol Burnett show, and Gilligan’s Island?

Seems like yesterday. Seems like so long ago.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about TV TRAYS

 

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See What’s There [on Two Artists Tuesday]

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On this Two Artists Tuesday we give a nod to all the special people who are willing to help – even when it makes no sense. They are everywhere though, because they eschew drama, they remain largely unseen. They put down what they are carrying to open doors for complete strangers. Late for a meeting, they slow their pace and cross the busy intersection, an invisible shield for an elderly crosser. Sometimes, at night, they are servers at restaurants, kind and patient with everyone, even after a long day working their first job. They make soup for hungry people they’ve never met. They leave fifty dollar tips for ten dollar tabs. They step into the street to shield a dog-on-the-loose from oncoming traffic. They walk into the wind and rain to deliver packages and junk mail. They carry a snowboard out to a car to reassure a mother that her daughter’s snowboard will, indeed, fit in the back.

Kindness. Paying attention. Little acts, big ripples. It’s breathtaking. It’s everywhere.

read Kerri’s blog post about THE THINGS PEOPLE DO

 

 

www.kerrianddavid.com

Leave It! [on Two Artist Tuesday]

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If a picture is worth a thousand words, then what you don’t see in a picture is worth an additional word or two.

One of Kerri’s many nicknames is “Brat” and it is more-than-well-deserved. No one knows this better than Tripper-Dog-Dog-Dog. He silently suffers her full brat nature. He patiently tolerates her howling laughter when he is, once again, the object of her brat-ocity.

DogDog easily picks up tricks. And, as an Aussie, he is a hyper-sensitive-good-boy, so Brat takes full advantage of his trusting nature, his need to please, and contorts the tricks. This is a photo of “leave it:” drop any snack on the floor, tell DogDog to “leave it,” and he won’t touch it until he’s given the magic sign. Tell him to “leave it” and he won’t move. Instead, he will follow you with his eyes imploring you for the magic sign. On this day, instead of dropping his snack on the floor, she put a tortilla chip on his head. And left it there for a very long time.

I knew I would be in trouble if I gave DogDog the magic sign. I knew I would bring Brat’s focus on to me if I interrupted her chuckling mischief. So, like DogDog, I sat very still and followed her around with my eyes. When would she give the magic signal? Both DogDog and I quaked with unbearable anticipation. When?! She moved back and forth, Dogga’s and my eyes tracking her every move. She took a picture. Moved across the room and took another. “Don’t torture the dog,” I implored.

“I’m not torturing DogDog,” she smiled, giving DogDog the magic sign, “I’ve been torturing you!”

 

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Lydia! Here’s the link: read Kerri’s blog post about BEING A BRAT

 

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Reach [on Two Artists Tuesday]

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Someone snapped their fingers and it is fall. Less than a week ago we skirted the Des Plains river trail, hugging the shade. We’d underestimated the intensity of the heat-humidity combination punch. “Are you dying?” Kerri asked. I nodded my head, too hot to answer. This morning, the air is cool and we are pulling out our flannel shirts.

With fall comes a sweet melancholy that usually creeps in slowly but this year, absent of any transition, I awoke fully awash in the seasonal sorrows. It is, oddly, like a warm blanket. An old friend that calls, “Remember me?”

Kerri tells me this melancholy is the feeling of time passing. It is the season of standing still and remembering. It is a reach to the past when the past feels like the autumn sun on your face. Turning toward the warmth, eyes closed, basking.

Haven’t you heard your elders say that the older you get the faster time moves? This morning, pulling my flannel shirt around me, I know that it is true. Time races. Time is relative to “the long body,” the entire span of a lifetime. With so much time behind me, so many memories, the road traveled seems to have passed in a blink. Life happens in the blink of an eye.

There’s no better reason to stand still, eyes closed, and reach for the sun as its rays reach for me.

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read Kerri’s blog post about REACH

 

 

 

 

 

www.kerrianddavid.com

 

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reach ©️ 2018 david robinson & kerri sherwood

 

 

Will It To Happen [on Two Artists Tuesday]

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This is the first face, the first thing I see each morning when I open my eyes. BabyCat, aka Sumo aka ONEBIGCAT aka Scrawny Cat. Let’s just say that he is a substantial kitty. And willful when hungry. The morning ritual goes like this (my eyes are closed): he mews up a storm with no result (eyes are still closed). He pulls books from shelves and then claws the back of the already-destroyed-chair (eyes still closed). He shreds the previous night’s crossword puzzle and any other loose paper on the floor. No movement from the human. The final stage is a cat-leap onto the bed (BabyCat landing on the bed feels like riding a rolling ocean wave in a small dinghy). And then he stares at me like some 19th century hypnotist, willing my eyes to open. No matter how long it takes. None of the ruckus produces results but the silent stare is a killer. It’s unnerving. It makes me open my eyes.

This morning the thunder and rain are at it again. The air is thick, sticky and humid. Wisconsin has gone tropical and, apparently, now has a monsoon season. When my eyes popped open this morning there was something extra in BabyCat’s stare. More than food, he wanted to know where summer had gone. Was it here at all or was is merely a B-Cat dream? A passing fancy?

Blinking my eyes, the best that I could offer was this: “I don’t know, BabyCat. I dreamed it was summer, too.” And then we finished the morning ritual with our customary promenade to the food bowl.

 

if you'd like to see TWO ARTISTS copy(the BabyCat coasters kill me! the travel mug is downright unnerving!)

read Kerri’s blog post about WHERETHEHECKDIDSUMMERGO?

 

 

www.kerrianddavid.com

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wheretheheckdidsummergo ©️ 2018 david robinson & kerri sherwood