What Makes Us Beautiful [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

When I tell Kerri that she is beautiful she deflects or minimizes my words. She tells me that I am biased or acts as if she didn’t hear me. She is not unique in her response. How many of us have long ago shielded ourselves against the idea that we are beautiful?

Peel back the layers.

Many years ago a student came to my office. He was sobbing. He had recently revealed to his family and peers that he was gay and their overwhelming message back to him was that he was broken and needed to be fixed. He was vulnerable in revealing his truth – his beauty – and was slapped. The message: you are ugly. In his despair he could not see that the ugliness was in how he was being treated. At some point he cried, “I just want to break something!” I thought that was a very good idea so we went outside and hurled ceramic plates at a brick wall. We laughed and laughed until he could hear the words, “You are not broken”.

What I didn’t say to him was this: They want to hammer you into compliance because they fear your difference. Fearful people are threatened by difference. They label it as ugly. Your difference is what makes you unique, beautiful and special.

Isn’t it interesting to you that we-the-people, inhabiting the most individualistic nation on the planet, buy our clothes from the same retailers, worship hallowed brands, with the express purpose of fitting in? We express our individuality, judge our beauty, by conforming to a fashion image.

It is one of the reasons why Kerri cannot possibly allow my admiration of her beauty. She doesn’t fit the magazine-model-ideal. She is a blue-jeans-and-boots wearing, black thermal shirt girl (thank god!). It creates a split. On the one hand, she is an artist, a woman wrapped in difference who easily lives on the margins so she can more clearly see and reflect the society in her music, writing, and photographs. On the other hand, she cannot allow the notion that her difference is the very thing that reveals her beauty. She doesn’t fit the norm. She doesn’t match the magazine ideal or wear the right brands. She compares herself to those who do so she can’t possibly allow that she is uniquely beautiful.

It’s a lot of pressure, this need to fit in. In fact, it is a basic survival instinct to a herd animal like a human being. That is the real beauty, the magic of these United States. It is a society that, at it’s best, when it is in its right mind, strives to create the inclusion of difference, intends to celebrate the unique, make a safe home for diversity, a safe place for all to worship as they choose, love who they choose. In the ideal, difference – sometimes called “freedom” – is protected equally for all under the law.

We wrestle with the split. We need to remember that we are unique in the history of the world. We are a democracy comprised of people from all over this gloriously diverse planet, a nation of immigrants. This latest attempt by the morbidly fearful to scrub ourselves bland, straight and white, to bludgeon us back-in-time to some fantasy uniform past, is ugly and destructive. They would bully us into conformity, a one-size-fits-all mentality. We need only remember that our difference, our diversity, is precisely what makes these United States of America unique, beautiful and special.

This is not the time to deflect. What makes us truly beautiful is worth owning and vigorously protecting.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BEAUTIFUL

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Stand Out [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Yesterday, in our basement reorganization shuffle, I moved my paintings. It is not a small task to move the remains of a life’s work. At this point, I’ve moved them hundreds of times: between studios, into and out of shows, within a studio space to make more space. Paintings take up a lot of space. Besides my clothes, my unsold paintings have been the extent of my possessions most of my adult life. During this latest painting-location-change I realized what an oddity I must sometimes seem. It sparked some random recall and minor revelation.

It’s not always easy to be a sore thumb, the one one that sticks out; the one doing life a bit differently than the expected norm. The lone tree in a vast field.

I read this quote this morning from Robert Pirsig‘s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: “Schools teach you to imitate. If you don’t imitate what the teacher wants you get a bad grade…Originality on the other hand could get you anything – from A to F. The whole grading system cautioned against it.”

One of my favorite activities to do with teachers comes straight out of Augusto Boal and the Theatre of the Oppressed. Each teacher “reenacts” for their peers the simple ritual of preparation they do each morning for the upcoming day. The revelation was always the same. “I’m preparing to control my students,” a wide-eyed teacher gasped when the penny dropped, “It’s the opposite of what I want to do.”

We live in the church of the individual yet the message we actually preach is conformity.

I had the opportunity to create a school-within-a-school and I followed the popcorn path suggested by Neil Postman. He wrote that “learning” in our system conditions students to suss-out what teacher wants and regurgitate it. It was possible to kickstart their original impulse toward curiosity but it would require a bloody battle of about six weeks. Hold the line. Don’t fill in the blank for them. And one day, in a fit of anger and defiance, one student would take the brave step and say, “This is what I want to learn!” Support the step of the defiant one and the rest of the students would follow. They would dare to speak their truth and follow their passion. Postman was right! The battle was bloody. It took exactly six weeks.

This is the ubiquitous misunderstanding about originality: it requires the removal of boundaries, the absence of control. A free-for-all. The opposite is true. The most disciplined people I’ve ever known are artists. Their discipline is internal, not imposed. It was the seed of the question I’d ask the teachers after their uncomfortable revelation: “What would it look like if each day you prepared to unleash the student’s curiosity? What, then, would you have to control?” It was an uncomfortable question. It would require them, probably in anger and defiance, to take a brave step. To stand out. To do something different. To expect their students, through the pursuit of their burning questions, to control themselves.

Everyone has a unique star to follow. Sometimes they simply need help to see it.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE LONE TREE

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Whack! [on Merely A Thought Monday]

This is a tale of coincidence.

If you want to learn some great Italian recipes – or just simply want to pick up some great cooking tips, visit Sip-And-Feast. We stumbled on their YouTube channel a year ago and have been desperately hungry ever since. We fantasize about making a trip to Long Island and showing up on their front stoop just in time to taste test their latest recipe. We don’t care what’s cooking since everything they make looks delicious.

I howled with laughter in a recent installment when Tara Delmage suggested whacking mint leaves to release their oil. My current two-pages-a-day-book is called A Whack On The Side Of The Head: How You Can Be More Creative. In an instant I imagined people as mint leaves needing a whack to release their creative-impulse-oil. It was a hilarious image.

It was an accurate image, too.

I’ve coached a lot of people in my life. The pattern is explicit. Erecting barriers against creative impulses comes standard in all human beings. As social animals, conformity is a vital skill. Fitting-in equates to survival. The dark-side of fitting-in is the requirement of walling-off natural expression. It’s why so many people seek their voice or try to find the time but never find the time to write their book or paint their painting. It’s scary to step out of line.

It’s the reason artists are often seen as wild or dangerous: they exercise the muscles of free expression. It’s also why artists are essential: they counter-balance the conformity. They open doors in the wall. They serve as a gravitational pull toward the mint-oil of natural creativity. They know the secrets of a good whack on the side of the head. They know the right moment to deliver the shock. They know when to encourage chaos and when to infuse some order. The push-me-pull-you of progress.

From the wisdom of Sip-And-Feast I can now offer this piece of solid advice: go make yourself a nice limoncello spritzer. The recipe for the spritzer will provide you all the information you need to pop open your creative flow.

Bon appetit!

read Kerri’s blogpost about MINT LEAVES

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Scribble With Purpose [on DR Thursday]

Henri Matisse said, “Creativity takes courage.” I suppose that is true when considering the enormous pressures to conform to a style or standard. To create what is acceptable or expected. To suss-out what will be rewarded with approval and/or profit. In this context, it takes enormous courage to deviate. To explore. To surprise yourself by breaking form and risking ridicule and rejection and poverty. In this context, it takes courage to show up. It takes courage to punch through.

On the other hand, creativity is the most natural thing in the world. Ask any child. On second thought, please don’t ask any child since it will only confuse them. They have no idea that creativity – to an adult – is a separate thing. What’s scary and vulnerable to the tall people is commonplace to the little critters. There’s help for the older folks: allow the child-inside to scribble with abandon. Recognize that the story of, “I’m not creative,” is a creative act. The story of “It’s scary to create,” is also a creative act. It’s a story.

Creativity runs like wild horses through every day of our lives. Our perceptions and interpretations and fears are pure storytelling. The real challenge is not the absence of creativity but the conscious appreciation of our rampant creativity. The squeeze to conform serves as a heavy curtain obscuring our vibrant expressiveness.

The courage that Henri Matisse references is borne of the tension between the desire to be appreciated (to fit in, to succeed) and the yearning to break new trail or sail into undiscovered lands. To risk. To intentionally and publicly scribble outside the lines. To say aloud what needs saying.

Creativity is the most natural thing in the world. As it turns out, so is conformity. We are, after all, like wolves: animals that run in a pack. Humans die in isolation so serving the will of the group is a high priority. The wrestling match between creativity and conformity is necessary.

The progressive impulse. The conservative impulse. A bowstring drawn taut between these two poles provides the necessary tension to send the arrow of our ideas and dreams sailing toward the distant target. Children scribble with abandon. Grown up children, those telling themselves the story of “I’m a creator,” learn to scribble with purpose.

read Kerri’s blogpost about PUNCHING THROUGH

shared fatherhood, 25.5X40.5IN, mixed media on panel

shared fatherhood 2 © 2017 david robinson

chicken marsala/just scribble © 2016 kerri sherwood & david robinson

Dump The Suit [on DR Thursday]

“When you are content to be simply yourself and don’t compare or compete, everybody will respect you.” ~ Lao Tzu

Lately, I’m on a Lao Tzu quote kick. Have you noticed? An advocate for a simple life, his words – or those attributed to him – appeal to me at this moment in my walk.

The outstanding characteristic of my working life is that I have mostly been a sore thumb, the person in the collective who doesn’t belong to the collective. That’s been my value: I am the consummate outsider. I do not sit on the mountain so I can more clearly see the mountain. The alternative perspective. I’ve not always found that to be a comfortable role. For instance, alternative perspectives are invited into conversations but the alternative perspective, when voiced, is rarely welcome. The first response to the alternative perspective is almost always an emphatic whisper, “Conform!”

I have, my entire life as the sore thumb, been told that, “Our people will never do that!” or “They don’t think that way, therefore you must conform-modify-edit…” The emphasis is placed squarely on the limit, the notion that “They can’t…” or “They won’t…”

And, I’ve never found that to be true. In fact, that’s precisely the perception that a sore thumb is hired to challenge. “They” can. “They” will. The job of the alternative perspective is to emphasize the possible, to open paths to the not-yet-imagined, to the revelation of, “We didn’t know we could do that.” Or see that. Or feel that.

In order to walk in an alien world, the sore thumb necessarily steps into the unknown. The first step is to listen and learn: to open to the possible within themselves, to challenge the inner-limiter. The alternative perspective lives on a two-way-discomfort-street with their client.

It is never comfortable to “not know.” It’s never comfortable to say, “I have no idea what that means.” However, it’s a great exercise, a necessary practice. And, it’s actually what the alternative perspective is paid to do and to model. “We didn’t know we could do that,” are words that come after a step into discomfort, a step beyond the known limits. “We step together because we both know how this feels.”

The alternative perspective is never right or wrong, it is simply an alternative. “These are the patterns I see. They may be useful or not.” Conformity bristles when the unknown beckons. Conformity is safe, and the emphatic whisper, while meant to maintain comfort for all, is the line that a sore thumb is hired to help the whisperer cross, “The possibilities we seek live beyond this line.”

The first day I put out my consultant shingle, I bought a suit. It’s what I thought I was supposed to wear. I bought my suit because I’d snagged a client, a financial advisor who wanted me to work with his staff. He’d seen my work – he’d seen me work – in another context. After the job, he asked me, “What’s up with the suit?” I’d always been told by well-meaning teachers that I should “dress for the job I wanted,” so I told my client that I’d dressed for the job. He gave me some great advice: dump the suit. “I want you to show up as you are, not as the person you think we want to see.”

His words became my mantra.

Truth: I hated that suit. I felt like an imposter wearing it. My client gave me a great gift. Be content to be yourself. Challenge the inner-limiter. Inner-limiters are very loud, and like outer-limiters, are generally not worth listening to; they will always advise you to conform, say nothing, and put on an ill-fitting suit.

[Happy Thanksgiving]

read Kerri’s blog post about GOURDS

tango with me © 2018 david robinson