Release The Tether [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

As the old adage goes, timing is everything. It is a lesson I will probably never learn. When something pops into my noggin, I grab hold of it like the tether to a hot air balloon. I can’t let go of the tether until I’ve expressed it. So, I am, and always have been, a master of bad timing.

Kerri has adapted well to my balloon-filled-brain. She knows that I can release the tether, the balloon will fly away, and life will go on with or without my urgent need to capture-the-thought. And, usually, there will be a second chance: all balloons come down again and, sometimes, they arrive at just the right moment. No raincheck required.

read Kerri’s blog post about RAINCHECK

smack-dab. © 2021 kerrianddavid.com

Appreciate The Nectar [saturday morning smack-dab.]

My dad called coffee ‘the nectar of the gods.’ It has special properties that I am only now beginning to fully appreciate. The-nectar-of-the-gods was wasted on me when I was young. I didn’t appreciate it. I drank it for comfort and taste. Now I get it. Coffee is an essential survival beverage. The gods are laughing. We’re just trying to stay conscious.

read Kerri’s thoughts about COFFEE!

smack-dab. ©️ 2021 kerrianddavid.com

Do More Than Watch [saturday morning smack-dab.]

It’s short. It’s precious. Both/And.

Live Life, My Sweet Potato stuff on Society6

smack-dab. ©️ 2021 kerrianddavid.com

Laugh At Yourself [on DR Thursday]

Had you come across our website during the era of The Roadtrip, a play that Kerri and I wrote from the several-months-email-conversation we had before we first met face-to-face, you’d have read this phrase: smack-dab in the middle of middle age…a true story of quiet hope and the arrival of life’s second chances.

Smack-dab. In the middle of middle age. We met. We married. We walk the neighborhood arm-in-arm. We write these blog posts each day. She brings her wise-eyes into my studio and I tell her what her music makes me feel and think.

For an intense year or so, we tried-like-crazy to syndicate a cartoon strip called Chicken Marsala, the imaginary child of two people who met smack-dab in the middle of middle age. In the course of writing and drawing Chicken, we also pitched a single-panel cartoon, Flawed, and another called At The Door. Chicken Marsala had several iterations because the syndicate liked it…almost. They asked for improvements though never specified what those improvements might be – in the writing? The art work? In this age of too much information, no answer ever came back to us.

In the face of unspecified and uncertain improvements, this ONE thing is certain: we generated a mountain of material in the hunt for the elusive improvement. Oh, and this, too: we laughed heartily at ourselves. The mountain of material was about us. We were poking fun at the things we do and say each day.

This morning I found Kerri furiously working at her computer guffawing. She’d pulled up the old Chicken file. There was an iteration of the strip that was pre-Chicken, the middle-aged couple prior to the appearance of their imaginary son. We sat this morning and laughed again at ourselves. These things actually happen and how joyful is it to chronicle yourself in-and-as a cartoon?

I suspect we are going back to the drawing board. This time, we’ll not hide behind our imaginary son. This time, we’ll pull the blankets on the source. Smack-dab. In the middle of middle age. Two artists met and got married. What could be a better set-up for ridiculousness?

read Kerri’s blog post introducing SMACK-DAB

*don’t believe a word she writes, she guffaws all of the time.

smack-dab ©️ 2021 david robinson & kerri sherwood

Look In And Laugh [on DR Thursday]

I’m concerned. This is the 4th week in a row that Kerri has penned a new AT THE DOOR for use in our Melange. “This would be good for DR Thursday,” she says, showing me the latest draft. Originally, this cartoon was about the differences between DogDog and BabyCat; what they might think when staring out-into-the-world from the same door. Now, I fear Kerri’s new AT THE DOOR revival is about us. I am the dog. She is the cat. I am easily amused and too often state the obvious. She is more discerning and precise. I am, I confess, remedial. She can’t help but roll her eyes.

It’s not that I mind the cartoon comparison to DogDog. There are definite similarities. The circles I run are also counterclockwise. I am food driven. I want to run at every horizon simply to see what’s there. She is given to sitting in the sun, content in the bounds of the known, the delights of home.

Other comparisons of note: when BabyCat is hungry, he tortures the Dog. When Kerri is hungry, well, let’s just say that I spring into food-prep-mode for self-preservation. I can feel BabyCat’s stare boring a hole in the back of my head. Kerri’s stare has the same power. No. Words. Necessary. When DogDog is upset, he disappears into his safe spot. For him, it’s the bathroom. For me, it’s the studio.

Saturday – the day we choose our images for the upcoming week of the Melange – is fast approaching. I lay awake last night wondering what message or observation will come my way via AT THE DOOR. Last Saturday, before she showed me the cat’s commentary on the dog, dog = remedial, she was literally cackling. Looking at me and snickering. So was BabyCat!

Of course, it’s possible that AT THE DOOR has always been about us. It’s possible. DogDog and BabyCat, despite their vast differences, are constant companions and champions for the other. Just like us. I suspect that, if DogDog and BabyCat were to collaborate and pen a cartoon about us sitting at the door, staring into this vast wide-open universe, they’d snicker with love at our character collisions, a study in oppositions, and adore us and celebrate us, as we do them, weird quirks and all.

read Kerri’s blog post about AT THE DOOR

Fill In The Thought Bubble [on DR Thursday]

sketch with frame copy

I sit in the truck and wait while Kerri goes into the building to work. I’m not allowed in so I use my time to sketch or work on other projects. Big Red is my mobile studio.

I was flipping through my latest sketchbook and found  this on the last page. I laughed because I’d forgotten about it. It is from the early days of the pandemic. I LOVE YOU. NOW STAND BACK. It captures the ever growing mountain of contradictions that tumbled-in with COVID-19.

On the facing page of the sketchbook, I wrote 3 haiku:

Screen Shot 2020-07-01 at 11.20.28 AM

Sketchbooks are like archives or a diary. If I wrote a book about this time I’d call it Weird Calculus. Every decision, even the smallest, is awash in contradictions and placed on a sliding scale of risk.

Since I drew this sketch, we’ve thrown ourselves against a hard wall of conflicting beliefs. We play a deadly game of racquetball with so much intentional misinformation. Data denial. We’re 4% of the world’s population and we’ve managed to fight ourselves into a full 25% of the world’s infections. That’s quite an achievement.

Were I to draw this sketch today, a mere 3 months later, the thought bubble might say: I LOVE YOU. NOW WAKE UP!

 

read Kerri’s blog post about STAND BACK!

 

seagull in fog website box copy

 

 

 

now stand back ©️ 2020 david robinson

sleepers ©️ 2014 david robinson

Doubt It [on DR Thursday]

AtTheDoor13 jpeg copy 2

In our vast catalogue of projects-that-went-nowhere is a single panel cartoon proposal we called At The Door. A dog and a cat at the door. One wants to go out and explore the world. The other is content to stay forever inside in a known and predictable world. One dreams of adventure, the other dreams of lunch. The progressive instinct meets the conservative impulse.

Because it was largely existential and mostly not funny, we were certain that it would never gain traction. We developed it anyway. Why?

One of the great mysteries of an artist’s life is the Riddle Of Attraction. Why are some pieces popular and others are not? The crux of the riddle is this: what I consider my best work usually collects dust on the shelf while the pieces that I think inferior fly out the door. Kerri and I write everyday. We have a ritual call-and-response when we write something that we feel is meaningful or has real depth. I’ll say, “That’s a really good post.” She’ll reply, “That means no one will read it.” And, inevitably, it is true. The maddening moment comes when we post work that feels lacking and it is read widely across the globe.

There can be only one logical explanation: we must be the worst judges of our own artistic expression. We must have an inverted relationship with what has value and what does not when it comes to our own pieces. It must be true that artists are the last to objectively see their work. It’s a terrifying notion; if I think it is awful, it must be good. If I think it is good, it must be a delusion.

And so, we happily wrote and drew a cartoon with a dog and a cat at the door. Both critters looking out on the big world, one pulled to it while the other is repelled. It seemed like a bad idea so it just might have been good!

 

read Kerri’s blog post about AT THE DOOR

 

 

dogdog babycat paws touchingwebsite box copy

 

 

 

Flawed Cartoon Wednesday

claudine's making cow eyes THIS jpeg

The great thing about drawing cartoons is that everything becomes fodder for the next funny. You (I) essentially see the world as one big potential cartoon. It occurs to me that perhaps we should mandate that our politicians practice the high art of cartooning? I’m just sayin’….

I’m a relatively recent transplant to the midwest. The phrase “cow eyes’ was not only new to me but I fell off my stool the first time I heard it. Falling from my stool, I saw this image in my head [prior to my head hitting the floor]. It made it to the Flawed Cartoon line-up and now proudly lives and flirts in the studio melange.  I hope on this Flawed Cartoon Wednesday Claudine will dislodge you from your stool, too.

DUUUUUDE! CLAUDINE’S MAKING COW-EYES AT YOU! merchandise

claudine mug  claudine t-shirt  claudine framed print

kerrianddavid.com

check out Kerri’s thoughts on this Flawed Cartoon Wednesday

duuuuude! claudine’s making cow-eyes at you! ©️ 2016 david robinson & kerri sherwood

Flawed Cartoon Wednesday

There is so much good mischief in our studio melange! If trying to syndicate Chicken Marsala in strip and single panel [nugget] form was not enough, in our spare time, with the help of our dear friend 20, we also made a run at another cartoon, Flawed. Everyone needs a good laugh on hump day. Wednesdays – especially this Valentine’s Wednesday – belong to Flawed.

wienerdogsledcorrectspellingJPG

WIENER DOG SLED

kerrianddavid.com

 

wiener dog sled ©️ 2016 david robinson & kerri sherwood

 

 

Chicken Marsala Monday

We were 14 hours into a 17 hour drive when she asked the question. “If we’d had a child, what would we have named it?” After much laughter and too much coffee we settled on Chicken Marsala.  Chicken kept us awake for the rest of our drive.

No one can accuse us of not being productive. We are a creative melange of paintings, music, plays, books, children’s books, and, now, cartoons. For over a year we attempted to syndicate our strip, Chicken Marsala (the imaginary child of an aging couple…) and were met with much enthusiasm but not syndication. We produced months of strips and single panel nuggets (chicken strips and chicken nuggets. Titanic wit, yes?).

Brewed from our studio, from the pile of creative perseverance that is stacking up below and above the ping pong table that serves as our archive , we’ve decided to offer a daily blend of goodness, thought, laughter and beauty. It may come fresh off the press or it might be aged and, like Chicken Nuggets, it might be looking for some light. Art is made to share, not archive. Either way, welcome to the melange. Chicken’s day is Monday. This nugget has everything to do with Valentine’s week and a quiet reminder that the universe of feelings is so much bigger than words can possibly contain.

love needs no words jpeg copy.jpg

LOVE NEEDS NO WORDS

kerrianddavid.com

love needs no words ©️ 2016 david robinson & kerri sherwood