Spot Her [on KS Friday]

We decided to go off trail. There was a stand of birch trees that she’s always wanted to photograph but getting to them meant crossing the marsh. An untenable task in the warm months, but since it was a cold day, below freezing, the grasses and ice made a step-selective pathway possible.

We zigged and zagged our way toward the birches, my eyes cast down, carefully choosing the next step. I hoped that she was following my path but inevitably the crunching and crackling behind me ceased. I knew I needed to stop and prepare myself for a rescue. Something caught her eye. To get the photo she’d forget about the marsh.

Every artist needs a spotter. The dangers may not be as readily apparent as a gymnast but they are no less real. My friend Albert used to pull me from my studio when I was there too long. He saved my life more than once. Artists are given to self-doubt that congeals into dark despair. I’ve learned to be ready to throw light into the cave just as Albert did for me.

Artists are also myopic when the muse grabs hold of them. Before I met her, Kerri, looking through the lens of her camera, stepped backward off a cliff. Her muse is powerful. Her capacity for instant-hyper-focus is unparalleled. My muse clutches me in safer places like a studio or on a stage. Kerri’s seizes her in marshes and on cliff side. I am her spotter.

“Isn’t this cool!” she giggles as the ice beneath her feet groans.

“Maybe take a step to the left onto the tall grass,” I say. She takes a brief look at her feet, adjusts to slightly safer footing and then returns to the camera. “Maybe one more step?” I suggest.

Later, when we return to the car, she asks in all seriousness, “Are your boots wet? Why are my boots wet and yours are dry?” She studies her soggy boots, indignant.

“I don’t know,” I shrug. “Show me your pictures,” I suggest, deflecting her focus from her wet feet and back toward the muse.

“Oh, you’re going to love this!” she sits next to me, flipping through the many close-up shots of cattails, narrating her experience getting the photographs. Her narration does not include cracking ice, sketchy edges and near missteps into knee deep water holes. “Don’t you just love it!”

“Yes,” I smile. “Yes, I do.”

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about CATTAILS

untitled interlude/released from the heart © 1995 kerri sherwood

Arrive At The Essence [on Two Artists Tuesday]

This past Saturday we passed a milestone. We began writing our Melange on February 12, 2018, four years ago. We’ve published 5 days a week, every week, no matter what chaos or crazy storm blew through our lives.

Our Melange has moved through many phases. Originally, we wanted to regain some control over the publication of our music, paintings, plays, children’s books and cartoons. In our first post I called it our “pile of creative perseverance.” Also, we wanted to make a living from our mountain of work so we set up Society6 storefronts and spent hours each day developing products based on what we published. It was a blast and a total bust.

Eventually, the stores fell off, the daily themes changed, and we arrived at a pure essence: we love to sit together and write. Each day. There’s always a visual prompt, mostly from photos Kerri’s taken during the week. There’s only one rule: we can’t read or know what the other is writing about until we’ve completed our drafts. And then we read to each other, talk about our posts and clean them up. It’s my favorite thing to do. It feeds our hearts, energizes our artistic souls and that is more than enough.

Somedays I feel as if we are writing ourselves into existence. Our Melange is the story we tell each other – and you – of our life together. It’s a continuation of the Roadtrip, the daily emails we wrote to each other before we met. And, if the Roadtrip was a narrative offering of “this is me,” the Melange is a narrative offering of, “this is us.”

We launched the Melange with this Chicken Nugget (below). I wrote, as an introduction in the inaugural post, that this Nugget – and the Melange – was “a quiet reminder that the universe of feelings was – and is – so much bigger than words can possibly contain.” Ironic, yes? Coming from two people who, each and every day, write words as their way of reaching into this vast universe of feelings.

Thank you for reading what we write. We appreciate every step you take with us on our journey.

read Kerri’s blog post about 4 YEARS

chicken marsala © 2016 kerri sherwood & david robinson

the melange © 2018-22 kerri sherwood & david robinson

Refresh [on Two Artists Tuesday]

It’s been true since we met. People stop us in airports and on the street, they give us thumbs up or take a faux paparazzi-photograph. They tell us that we are cute or “lookin’ good!” Once, a shopkeeper came out of his store to tell us that we made him smile. When we walk the neighborhood, we are often met with people who tell us that we make their day. It always takes us by surprise and it always makes us smile.

What are people seeing? We are older and link arms when we walk. We hold hands. Our clothes are unintentionally the same. Black on blue jeans. We walk slowly. We talk to each other. We stroll; a walk without a destination. We don’t know what inspires the comments but always appreciate them.

Kerri always coos when she sees a horse. In our imaginary life, she has horses, a donkey, and an old truck. We were walking on the trail in our flip flops (that always gets a raised eyebrow or two) when the cowboy came around the bend. “A horse!” Kerri whispered, and squeezed my arm. The cowboy sat up in his saddle, nodded as he rode passed, then said, “You look like you like each other.”

“We do.” I replied.

Perhaps it is that simple. We like each other.

We’re fortunate. Our work allows us to be together all day. Every day. That would, I’m sure, be the end of most relationships. We like it. When I need feedback on a painting, she is my best wise-eyes. “What do you see?” I ask. We read our posts to each other before we publish. We edit together. We cook together. We create together. Our list of joint projects is growing. Lately, our once-weekly-cartoon about…well…us, Smack-dab., is giving us tremendous energy. It is fun. We poke fun at ourselves. We capture the ridiculous and the poignant. We pay attention to the marvels of simple relationship.

Picasso said that, “Love is the greatest refreshment in life.” He also said that, “Art is the elimination of the unnecessary.” Those thoughts, placed side-by-side, I believe, holds the reason a cowboy sat up in his saddle and a shopkeeper ran into the street. We are refreshed. We practice the elimination of the unnecessary – on canvas, at the piano, and in life.

We didn’t try to make 24/7 togetherness. There was no rule or expectation. It’s what we wanted. It’s what we want.

I am on jury duty this week and was at the courthouse most of the day. When she came to fetch me I got in the car and we said at the same time, “That was weird!”

“Tell me everything!” she said.

“No. You first! What did you and Dogga do?” Our conversation took us deep into the night. There’s so much life and so little time. Perhaps that’s it. We know this day is precious and fleeting and act accordingly. It must show.

read Kerri’s blog post about YOU MUST LIKE EACH OTHER