Forever Bring [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

If ever there was a Smack-Dab that captured the essence of our conversations, it is this. I am forever asking Kerri unanswerable esoteric questions. She is forever bringing my feet back to the ground. I am forever expounding on recondite yada-yada. She is forever bringing me back to the tangible moment, to what is right in front of my eyes.

There is only one thing that I am entirely sure of: we are a perfect match.

read Kerri’s blogpost about CHICKEN SOUP

share. like. support. comment. ignore. eye roll. chicken dance. many thanks!

smack-dab © 2023 kerrianddavid.com

buymeacoffee is an abstruse, arcane, obscure land where people toss spare change at artistic hyper-mouths to get them to please-be-quiet and, thus, to keep the peace.

See Like Seuss [David’s blog on KS Friday]

If you’ve ever pondered where Dr. Seuss got his idea for the fabulous hairstyles on many of his characters, look no further than the dried flowers in the field. Thing One and Thing Two wave to us as we walk by. The Grinch wrinkles his nose and grins.

Of course, I made that up. I have no idea where the good doctor found his inspiration. It’s a good bet that he, like most creators of characters, found a visual spark from the crazy shapes and wild styles in nature. I look at the zany filaments of this yellowing pod and see a cartoon henchman, narrowing eyes beneath a spiky do. Of course, my henchman, like all good cartoon thugs, has no real power. He likes to think he can intimidate, an omega with alpha delusions. It’s what makes him lovable. I’ll name him Thistle.

I personify everything. Projecting my human-ness on everything is a quality that identifies me as uniquely human. We see angry volcanoes. Trees that talk. Cartoons animals are a festival of personification. Wily Coyote. Humorless gods in the sky. A cat in a hat. Mother Earth.

We are a miracle of creativity, whether we recognize it or not. Projecting ourselves, infusing our fears and fantasies, the sacred and profane, on every mountain, rock and weed. Even on other people. What we see is…what we see. A creative lens. Is it any wonder we’ve filled volume after volume seeking but never finding truth? Agreement is the best we can do.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I just saw a fox in socks…

transience/right now © 2010 kerri sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THISTLE

like. share. support. comment. see like seuss. imagine the possibilities. we thank you.

buymeacoffee is an animated feature length movie comprised of characters drawn from nature who unwittingly support the artists that drew them. It’s a must see.

Fill Your Paintbox [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine:
There sleeps Titania sometime of the night…

[A Midsummer NIght’s Dream by William Shakespeare. Act 2, scene 1]

I played Oberon for the Walden Theatre Company at the Kentucky Center for the Performing Arts when I was way too young to play the role. I said the words and, although I did my research, I only had an abstract grasp of wild thyme and luscious woodbine. I had no depth of understanding of relationship and the mischief it invokes.

Now, those things are visceral. I know them to my core.

Luscious woodbine climbs and covers the fence beside our driveway. The leaves turn to fire in the fall, and when they drop, they reveal the blue berries, toxic to humans but delicious to birds. In a few days, the berries disappear. Woodbine symbolizes the bond of love since it entwines and embraces trees and other plants. And fences. The locals call it Virginia Creeper.

I was witness to the great actor, Jim Edmondson, play Lear for the first time. He was astonishing. After the performance, he said, “I don’t have enough colors in my paint box yet to play this role.” I sometimes wonder, as he aged, if he found the colors he felt he lacked. The intimate depth of understanding of growing old, of losing power, of being shelved. Loss upon loss. Leaves turn to fire and fall. All that remains is the vine.

I’m growing to understand the paradox of life: none of us has enough colors in our paint box when we are young and moving through the complexity. The colors are cumulative. How many times have I said, “Man, if I only knew then what I know now.”

“I know a bank where the wild thyme blows…” Yes. I do. At last.

read Kerri’s blogpost about WOODBINE

like. share. comment. support. smell the sweet musk-roses. we do.

buymeacoffee is a place where nodding violets grow and artists find a way to live another day.

Color It Red [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Red is the color of anger. Unless it’s not. It’s also the color of Santa suits and fire trucks. It’s the color of embarrassed cheeks, burning bushes and carpet pathways for the glitterati when bubbling with the anticipation of receiving an award. Red is associated with the base chakra. It’s the lowest vibrating color-energy on the spectrum. It’s easy to see. Male cardinals want their perspective mates to see red.

Red is the color of fall. And orange. And yellow. We walk toward it on the trail. Sometimes it’s too much to comprehend.

Horatio just told me of a trip he took through Canyon de Chelly. Red Rocks. He told me that he always feels that something is “right” when he’s there. Like humans and this big universe belong together. Timeless. Ancient. Mystical. Impermanent. Not separate. Red is the color of belonging.

That’s how I felt standing before this sumac. A staghorn sumac on fire with the season. My only purpose: to appreciate. To witness. Red is the color of awe.

read Kerri’s blogpost about RED SUMAC

like it. or not. support it. or not. share it. or not. comment on it. or not. find your red. or not.

buymeacoffee is…

See What You See [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

In the 1960’s it was called a mantra. Today, we’d call it branding: “What you see is what you see.” The mantra-brand for minimalist art. Rather than capturing an image or referencing an emotion, the minimalist desired to expose forms and materials in the pursuit of essence.

Artists are not separate from the times in which they live. The minimalist movement arose following the second world war. These artists were young men and women who, early in their lives, experienced the reality of fascism; a rhetoric of purity masking mass murder. A promise of the return to greatness with the actuality of thuggery fueled by pathological lies. The promise of greatness has never aimed so low or been more feeble.

Is it any wonder that the young artists of that time desired to expose forms and materials. To pull off the mask of the promiser and expose the essence of the message? They understood the necessity, the real human cost, of investing in an empty illusion. A delusion of past greatness that never existed in the first place. Anger is easy to exploit. Division is easy to create. Gaslight illuminates a path to nowhere.

As history tries to repeat itself and thuggery at home and worldwide is on the rise, perhaps a return to minimalism is the antidote we require. Turn off the noise. Expose the form and the materials used. Circle back to the minimalist mantra: what you see is what you see.

read Kerri’s blogpost about MINIMALISM

like. share. support. comment. expose the thought. say what you see. we thank you.

buymeacoffee is a minimalist gesture exposing the essence of your support for the artists you value.

Mark The Time [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

As long as we’ve been walking trials – I include trails in other states and nations – we’ve never encountered a salamander. It was so out of the ordinary that, at first, we thought someone had dumped a no-longer-wanted pet on the trail. We railed at the cruelty of humans. But, after a quick google search, we found that this critter was natural to the area. Not a pet, after all. Nocturnal, so rarely seen in the daylight. We recanted our railing, changed our tune, and counted the encounter as rare and special. Which it was.

Our salamander encounter was also a marker in time. This post marks the 300th week of our Melange. 300 weeks of writing about our encounters, our ramblings, our rantings, our hopes, our dreams, our dilemmas. At the beginning of week 1, we placed these words at the top of our website: “Brewed from our studio, sometimes fresh and sometimes aged, we offer a daily blend of goodness, thought, laughter, and beauty.”

We can’t claim to know your experience of our too-much-writing but we can report without reservation that we’ve profited mightily. Each day we sit together and write. No peeking at the other’s post. And then we read. We talk about what the photo prompt inspired, the great mystery of inspiration; where did that idea come from?

As milestone symbols go, a salamander is a good one. In my quick research of salamander-as-symbol, these were the first words I read: “Salamander opens us up to secrets within ourselves, secrets within others, and secrets of the spirit.”

And so we step toward week 301 with a healthy dose of salamander blessing, a renewed intention to brew some goodness from our studio, and a whole lot of gratitude for you – out there – giving some of your time to read our daily blend of goodness, thought, laughter, and beauty.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SALAMANDER

like. share. support. comment. again and again. we thank you.

buymeacoffee is what it is: a salamander on the trail that tells us you believe we are doing worthwhile work in the world.

Dance [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

One of the first paintings I did for Kerri is called Dancing In The Front Yard. From the very beginning we’ve had a natural impulse to dance. In the kitchen. On the deck. In an airport. On the trail. In the front yard.

If we break into spontaneous slow-dancing and the Dogga is near, it never fails that he joins us. Standing on his hind legs, paws on our shoulders, together we three dance our celebration of togetherness. There is nothing better on this earth.

read Kerri’s blogpost about DANCING

like. support. share. comment. dance. dance. dance.

buymeacoffee is an online “tip jar” that propels the artists you appreciate into spontaneous fits of dancing.

Be In Cahoots [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“I’m making old guy sounds,” I said. All morning I’ve been extra-moaning-and-groaning. Clearing my throat. “I’m making the sound my dad used to make!” She laughed. We are in cahoots, partners in this aging thing.

The temperatures are dropping and my inner weather station is alerting me to the changes. Achy joints. Sinus headaches. I’m not sure why an inner weather station is necessary. I can see the snow on the ground. The cold wind is hard to miss. The back door is sticking. There are plenty of indicators that the seasons are changing. “I know! I know already!” I say to my buckling knees. They seem to think that I missed the temperature plummet. “As if I didn’t already know.”

She laughs.

Sometimes when I walk across the parking lot toward the grocery store I pretend to be really old. She punches my arm and whispers “Stop it!” And then she looks around to make sure no one is watching my antics. “What! I’m practicing!” I say. “Practice makes perfect.” Another punch. “It’s the only way to Carnegie Hall!” I shout, defending my self. A third punch. And then she laughs.

Mission accomplished.

The view is near. The view is far. The day we met we climbed out a window onto the roof, drank wine, and shared life stories. The wind was cold off the lake so we wrapped blankets around ourselves. When it was too cold we came inside, sat in front of a fire, and shared more life stories. She read a story to me, something she’d written. She wanted me to know. She played the piano for me. I wanted to know.

We don’t have decades of shared memory so we share stories. We want to know. Looking back as we move forward. Comparing newly discovered aches and pains. Dusting off old heartbreaks, roads not taken. We are in cahoots, partners in this life thing.

And, to my great delight, captive witness to my endless antics, mostly, she laughs.

[let me take you back will not only take you back but will also give you a lift]

let me take you back/as it is © 2004 kerri sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about NEAR AND FAR

share. like. comment. support. compare. dust off. read aloud. practice, practice, practice. we applaud every act.

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Mix Harmonious [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Harmony in color. The place where the language of music finds a home in the visual arts. Synesthesia.

Harmonious color arrangements, like harmonious sound arrangements, must share at least one common “note.” Mix a little yellow into each color on the palette and the colors will work like chords. They’ll be compatible. Pleasing.

It’s probably obvious in my paintings. I’ve never really studied color. I use what pleases my eye (like a musician who plays by ear). Now, I want to know. It’s counter-intuitive; after decades of painting I to want to understand the basics. I want to know what I know and discover what I don’t know. I suspect what I don’t know is monumental.

Long ago, Mike sent me a color study that DeMarcus did when he was in art school. The image is of a cactus. At the base of the painting is the palette that he selected. He framed this piece and kept it on his wall over the course of his very long life and artistic career. It must of been a reminder: don’t forget the basics. It hangs in my studio though, for me, it carries a different reminder: don’t forget your lineage.

Dropping into an episode of Home Town recently, I laughed aloud when Erin Napier said that the only useful thing she learned in art school was the color wheel. I am, as is true of every artist that has been at work for decades, finding my way back to the simple basics.

When I was a kid, pre-internet, I had a cardboard color wheel with a rotating “locator” window meant to help a budding artist know what-color-goes-with-what-color. I didn’t pay much attention to it. It felt like study and I was impatient. I needed to make messes. I didn’t appreciate it at the time but I knew intuitively that I needed to move around to learn. I made swatches for days. I made some terrifically ugly color combinations. I painted some perfectly awful paintings. I still do.

The bubble-of-learning is moving from my body and slowly – ever so slowly – floating up to meet my brain. And, in this contentious world, I’ve decided that the best place to start is with harmony. Harmony in color. A little intentional recognition of sameness to create some pleasing compatibility.

read Kerri’s blogpost about MAUVE AND OLIVE

like. support. share. comment. we appreciate all the colors of your participation.

buymeacoffee is a “tip jar” where you can help the slow-witted-artists you appreciate learn at long last what color goes with what.

Can You Imagine? [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Like the leaves on a tree. We bud, grow green, vibrant and strong. We are not disconnected from the seasons. Colors change. We shine and become translucent. Brittle. And then, the strong wind blows.

I am not religious but I’ve had a life-long love of story so I’ve spent too much time walking among religious metaphor. Stories that are meant to guide us through the changing terrain of life somehow get lost-and-confused in a literal translation. A universal life-map is reduced to a territorial marker, us-and-them.

Spend enough time in many traditions – as Joseph Campbell did – and it becomes apparent that the characters in the stories might be different, but across cultures and systems of belief, “…all paths lead to the same destination.” [Bhagavad Gita…and others]

In the Christian tradition, today is All Saints Day. Tomorrow is All Souls Day. Though, the hinge word is “all.” They do not celebrate all; they celebrate only the saints and souls within the faith.

Standing beneath the luminous tree, the leaves lightly shaking in the cold autumn breeze, I wonder if it is possible for humanity to wake up – or progress – and celebrate the All. I’m an idealist so it’s not hard to suss out where I stand. Wouldn’t it be grand if for a day we could pause our many wars, put down made-up divisions, and celebrate all souls? Can you imagine? “Let’s fight again tomorrow, but, for today, I celebrate you, soul-to-soul-as-one-soul.”

All souls sacred. Like leaves on a tree.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE LEAVES

like. support. share. comment. soul-to-soul appreciation

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