All But One [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on July 9, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

Is it about the subject, the seagull feather, or the overall composition? It’s a more relevant question than you might imagine.

Of note: another word for ‘composition’ is ‘constitution’. Framework. Anatomy.

Begin here: the Supreme Court just ruled on a question of presidential immunity. Was their ruling about the subject (presidential immunity) or the constitution (the framework that fundamentally defines our national identity)?

Hint: In school we learned to speak The Pledge of Allegiance. “…with liberty and justice for all.” With this ruling, with hands over hearts, the words spoken daily by children and adults alike must now be, “…with liberty and justice for all, but one.“

In taking up the question of presidential immunity -a puzzling choice on their part at the outset since the answer to the question of immunity is already deeply imbedded in something sacred that every American school child recites by rote at the beginning of each school day – the Supremes altered the composition of our picture. The very constitution of our democracy. All, but one.

In his weekly newsletter, artist Nicholas Wilton writes that we must see our work as telling our story. With this ruling, the work of the Supremes, on our behalf, set course for a much different story. A fundamentally different composition.

When was the last time that you read and considered the power and import of the Preamble to The Constitution? “We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.”

We the People (the composition). All, but one (the subject). The Supremes reversed the subject and the composition: All but one is now the composition. Where does that leave we the people? It’s a more relevant question than you might imagine.

Hold your nose and say it with me: I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all but one?

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Joy All The Way Around [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on July 2, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

Although he is mostly black, our Australian Shepherd, like most Aussie’s, is tricolor. In addition to black, he sports rich copper and white fur patches. His eyes are auburn, lively and penetrating. Again, like most Aussies, he makes great eye contact because is always on the look-out to be one-step-ahead of our next move.

One step ahead.

I grew frustrated when he was a puppy and we were attempting to train him to walk with us. He could not, would not, walk by our side. Instead, he pulled-like-a-sled-dog to be in front of us. He seemed impossible to train. And then, one day, on a walk in a forest preserve, we let him off the leash and he raced ten paces ahead of us. He was delighted and kept exactly ten paces ahead of us. The penny dropped in my slow-on-the-uptake-mind. His job, his very reason for being, is to clear our way. To keep us safe. It’s not something he thinks about or intends, it’s in his DNA.

It has become a source of great joy to open the backdoor and watch his delight, racing out in front of me to clear the yard of potential marauders. Taking out the trash has become one of my favorite things. My Dogga has my back. He has our backs. Being one step ahead of us is his job, his purpose, his reason for being. Our well-being is his well-spring of joy.

It’s funny to me now, how he has become one of my great teachers in the art of non-resistance. I thought I was trying to teach him to walk-on-a-leash and, in truth, he was trying to teach me how to better walk in life. How to get off my leash and out of my tug-of-war. How much better is life once I ceased trying to bend him to my will and learned to listen to and lean into his gifts!

This is what I’ve learned from Dogga’s teaching: there is joy all the way around.

read Kerri’s blogpost about DOGGA PAW

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Exactly The Point [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on June 25, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

Chris wrote that he was taking a break from Facebook. “I’ve spent too much time in this space.”

I told Kerri that after I was finished with my slow re-read of Amusing Ourselves to Death, for a while I was only going to read books that filled me with light. “I’ve had too much of darkness,” I said.

Walter Lippmann posited that “…distorted information was inherent in the human mind. People make up their minds before they define the facts…” In other words, we are more gullible and impressionable than we care to admit, and are too soon planting our belief-flags in the sand. In other-other words, fact checking is not a human forté. Gossip mongering is.

Kerri and I often walk arm and arm along the waterfront, an old-world evening constitutional, a stroll taken slowly enough to notice, an opportunity to say “Hello,” when passing neighbors and friends. More and more I think it an essential to regularly set aside those little screens that dominate our viewpoints, and clear our minds. Every painter knows that perspective is gained by stepping back. I can read streams of opinions all day long but nothing beats the affirmation of real community than a hot summer night, people sitting on porches and a neighborhood mosey.

Families filled the park. The cool breeze off the lake drew them to the shore. Barbecues. Children chasing balls and each other. A feeling of respite was pervasive. Laughter. Shared space. We passed two teenage girls sitting on a bench with a bucket of colored pencils between them, coloring their books and chatting.

The sky morphed from orange and blue to purple and pink. A single bird arced across the sky. “What are you thinking?” I asked.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” she said. “I’m just enjoying the moment.”

I smiled, thinking, “Yes. And isn’t that exactly the point?”

read Kerri’s blog post about THE PINK SKY

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Yes. It’s Like That [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on June 18, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

I used to wonder how Emily Dickinson, living most of her life in the isolation of her family home, could write poetry so soul-expansive. Her world of experience was impossibly narrow yet her view into the human heart so broad and deep. I am no longer confused about the limitlessness available in a tiny garden. There is more life teeming in our small backyard than I can possibly comprehend.

It had been years since we gathered with the Up-North gang in our home. They commented that our yard was “zen”. It’s true. We’ve come to think of it as our sanctuary. A creation borne of Covid isolation, of necessity during the pandemic, we brought our full attention to the only place in the world that seemed safe. Our yard. Over long winter months, sitting at the black table in our sunroom, we stared into the backyard. We watched the patterns of the birds and discovered the nests of bunnies and chipmunks. We watched with awe the subtle changes of seasons and the play of light. We wondered how we could make our safe space more comfortable for us and amenable to the plants and animals. We dreamed. And slowly, throughout our isolation and beyond, we carefully attended to our peace-of-heart. Is it no wonder that we now adore sitting in our yard, daily trying to comprehend the abounding life within our eyesight?

Emily Dickinson wrote her poems from just such an expansive place. Lately I feel an affinity with her. More than once, lost in wonder, I have thought, “How can I possibly describe what I’m seeing and feeling?” I understand, like Emily, it’s not possible to capture, but isn’t that the artist’s job, the poet’s errand, to somehow express that which is beyond our capacity to grasp? To bring hearts and minds together through a poem or play or a composition, so we might together whisper, “Yes. It’s like that.”

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE ORB

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Turtle-Slapped [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on June 11, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

A turtle appeared on the path at just the right moment. As I like to say, our “jammies were in a bunch” and we were about to go over the edge and fall into a dark abyss of circumstance-dissatisfaction. We rounded the bend as our discontent began spiraling out of control, and then we saw the turtle.

Everything changed in an instant.

She cooed, knelt, and stroked the turtle’s shell. Not expecting a tsunami of affection, the turtle retreated into its fortress. But after a moment, realizing that this assault was indeed loving, it peeked and then poked its head out into the light. It slowly pivoted so she might get a better angle for her photoshoot. The turtle was a patient model and didn’t seem to mind her multiple-broken-promises of “Only one more, I swear,” as she continued snapping photographs.

We admired the orange markings, outlined in black, set in the field of green. “Gorgeous,” she whispered, tracing the markings with her finger.

After an appropriate visit, we left it to return to the marsh, and continued on our way. “What were we talking about?” I asked.

“I can’t remember,” she said, her prior frustration having completely dissipated. Mine, too.

In truth, we both remembered but no longer needed to grouse about what we could not control. We probably didn’t need to spin frustration tales to begin with. Thankfully, we were turtle-slapped into the recognition that what we needed most in our dedicated-exasperation was to slow down and appreciate our walk.

The wisdom of distraction. A turtle suddenly appears on the path at just the right moment…

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE TURTLE

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The Way Home [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on June 4, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

This peony-perspective begs to be the inciting image of a children’s book. I imagine the main character comes from a world where people are smaller than flowers. Where bumblebees are happy Ubers delivering their small human riders to distant neighborhoods when they need a lift. Where nature is magical, playful and esteemed.

Not all ideas make it to the final draft so it’s important to stack up the ideas and have fun with the images. The main character sleeps inside the peony. The Uber bees are chaotic fliers and one never knows where they land; in this world, destination is always a surprise. Spontaneity is the norm.

In this world where people look up to flowers, “Home” is everywhere for everyone – so people, unacquainted with ownership or territory, have evolved as intrinsically helpful. Generosity of spirit is a highly prized character trait. Survival is not of the fittest but of the kindest.

Hummingbirds know the secret of finding sweet treats, caterpillars know the secret of patience.

Since this storybook is evolving as a sweet utopia, it begs the question, “What’s the conflict?” Stories do not work without obstacles. The bigger the better. What is the lesson our main character must learn? What gets lost that must be found? Maybe our little person, like Adam and Eve, falls out of their garden? Perhaps an Uber bee unwittingly flies our hero/heroine through a magic portal, to a place where people are bigger than flowers? In a world that seems sad and upside-down, the question becomes, how does our little person, lost in the land of big, find their way home?

read Kerri’s blogpost about PEONY PERSPECTIVE

Bonus! Perhaps this amazing composition will be the theme for the animated version of the story book once it garners a world-wide audience!

The Way Home/This Part of the Journey © 1997/2000 Kerri Sherwood

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One And The Same [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on May 28, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

[Embrace of Life by Mimi Webster in the John Denver Sanctuary]

She shared a video posted by a friend: elephants drinking from a watering hole. The opportunity of a lifetime to see it. Yet, it is something that happens everyday if you live in that part of the world. The ordinary and the miraculous, one-and-the-same.

He wrote that he was helping his granddaughter move from college for summer break. His love was palpable. The task was nothing more or less than an opportunity for shared time. Time shared, nothing better.

We took a walk along the lake, my dear-friend, long lost and newly found. We were catching-up on missed chapters and yet talked as if we were picking up a conversation that we started yesterday, as if no time passed between our last meeting and today. In the telling we consciously wove together the rich tapestry of our friendship-story, the necessary sharing of triumphs and tragedies. All important colors on the palette.

“When was the last time we were here?” she asked as we crossed the bridge into the sanctuary. More than a few years. “So much has happened,” she whispered. So much. We are different than the couple who held hands and crossed this bridge in the past. We no longer swim against the current. The wisdom of exhaustion. She saw the sculpture, Embrace of Life, turned and threw open her arms, mimicking the pose and said, “Yes!”

read Kerri’s blogpost about EMBRACE OF LIFE

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Then And Now [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on May 21, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

Then and now.

The moment we knew we were going to Aspen, we looked at each other and said, “John Denver Sanctuary”. It is a special place. A place of peace and quiet in an angry noisy world.

We first visited The Sanctuary In 2016, the year after we were married. John Denver has always been an inspiration to Kerri. Simple. Straight forward. Positive. A bard who dreamed of a better world. In music. We found the monument stone that carried his lyrics to Annie’s Song, – a special wedding song for us -crawled onto the stone and Kirsten took our picture. That was then.

Nearly a decade later, a wedding brought us back to Aspen and to The Sanctuary. In the middle of May we walked the paths and stepped over the streams all by ourselves. No one else was there. We found Annie’s Song, set the timer on the camera, and scurried to the stone to get into the frame. Now.

We lingered there, talking of all that had happened in the decade between the two photos. So many stories! So much life! Who we were then. Who we are now. Who we are becoming.

And, as is always the case, remembering that the sanctuary isn’t just a place, it is also a way of being. We always have the option of bringing the sanctuary with us – being it. That’s what we hope for our becoming. In our artistry. It’s what we’ve always hoped for – then and now.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SANCTUARY

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As If [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on May 14, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

In a festival of irony, the moment we sat down to write about our peony, our harbinger of summer sun and the return of good weather, the sky darkened, the lightning flashed, the thunder clapped, and the rain is now dropping in buckets. The weather alert screeched with a warning for hail and possible tornadoes.

I delight in how readily my superstition-gene leaps out of the murky depths of my subconscious pond and concocts fabulous explanations about current circumstance. That is, as a human-being, a maker of stories – I am quite capable of connecting the rush of the sudden storm with our attempt to write about peonies. As if our attempt to write about peonies somehow invoked the storm!

This is not surprising. It is nothing new. My ancestors – and yours – created all manner of rituals in an attempt to appease the angry thunder-hurling god. To influence the powers of dark and light. To invite good fortune. To bring rain to crops. We have always personified nature and then imagined it is responsive to our behavior. Our behests. All around the globe, in many varied and culturally diverse forms, we do it in houses of worship to this day.

It might seem that I am making fun – and I am – but more than that, I am marveling at our genuine desire to be connected to “something bigger” and yet how rarely we recognize that we already are. We are as the peony, not separate from but a part of the pulse of life. We are of nature – not separate from it. My theory is that we have a hard time recognizing it because we imagine that we can control it. We use it to explain what we experience. We use it to justify our abuses to each other. Chosen people; Manifest Destiny and all of that ugly business. The personality we project upon it is at once beatific and horrific. We wonder why it blows our house away. We thank it for our good fortune.

In truth, we do influence Mother Nature and Father Sky, just not in the magical ways we imagine. Carbon emissions. Tapping mighty rivers dry before they reach the sea. Dumping our trash in the oceans. Fracking. It turns out that our behaviors are powerful and, perhaps, our destiny is in our hands. We need not pray to the gods for intervention and salvation, perhaps we need to be the gods of intervention that we desire to be, recognize and behave as if are not above it all, giver of names, but integral, intrinsic, no more or less essential than the peony.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE PEONY

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Grasp The Enormity [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on May 7, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

Benison was my word-of-the-day. It was a new word to me and it means a blessing or benediction (to bestow a blessing). I especially appreciated this word-of-the-day since I’ve lately been listening for the word “blessing”. It’s become something of a study or a game. I laughed when the word popped into my inbox. “Good timing!” I chirped.

I rarely go a day without hearing someone, somewhere, utter the word “blessing”. On the street, in the grocery store, neighbors chatting over the fence, in a bar, passing people on the trail…I’ve decided it’s a blanket word, generic, used to include many experiences. “What a blessing!”

I was considering adding it to my list of over-used and no longer meaningful words, like paradigm or story except that lately I’m of the opinion that this whole life, the entire ride with all of it’s ups and downs and confusions and clarities, is a blessing. A benison. A gift. Every single moment.

It flies in the face of common sense since I was given to understand that blessings are unique, something special. If every single moment is a blessing, then what’s the point of elevating this moment over that moment? Of course, I realized that I was (again) missing the point. The whole ride is a blessing. We mostly don’t realize it. We are mostly unconscious of it. Our awareness is some-other-place making lists or worrying worries so we mis-understand it. The word “blessing” is a descriptor of something unique and precious: those rare moments we actually grasp the enormity of being alive. Full stop and, as Lydia reminded me, breathe in the awe.

These days I think Kerri and I are practicing seeing our blessings. We are cultivating our capacity to notice. We note with delight the first buds of spring. We savor tastes. We love on the Dogga. So, when the Red Admiral butterfly landed on the Adirondack chair on a sunny early spring afternoon, “a symbol of spiritual awakening, transformation and renewal” we simultaneously said, “What a blessing!”

A benison. Yes, for us, a gift.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BLESSINGS

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