Feel The Sound [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on October 20, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

Far into the sleepless night, the cold night air driving me deeper beneath the quilt, I heard the low song of the chimes and whispered a gratitude to Guy. There are few things in life that bring me an immediate sense of peace and well-being like the chimes.

A few months ago Kerri and I wrote of our yearning for chimes. Our “someday” wish. We wrote of the many times we’ve stood in stores, sounding the chimes-on-display, feeling and then discussing the tones. Guy read our post. His life is rapidly changing. He wanted to find a new home for his beloved chimes. Would we like them? Yes! Double-Yes!

They are magic. I feel the sound to my core. In the few weeks since we hung them from our spruce tree, more than once I’ve stood near when the breezes begin to blow, and closed my eyes so I can feel the full ripple of sound resonate through my being. It’s like a giant Tibetan prayer bowl. Instant calm. Instant presence.

Were I in charge of this contentious world, every person would begin each day with chimes. Eyes closed, resonating with the wind and their neighbors. But, since I am not in charge, I will drink in the peace and each time whisper my deepest thanks to Guy.

[this may be my favorite of Kerri’s compositions]

peace/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 CHIMES

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Filed under: Gratitude, KS Friday | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments »

See The Bounty [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on September 27, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

I doubt that our bird feeder experience is different than most people. The chipmunks and the squirrels get most of the bounty and the birds play clean-up.

In another life, were I to aspire to be an acrobat or gymnast, I’d study the amazing antics of chippies and squirrels. They scale the impossible pole. They leap the impossible leap. And then they fill their cheeks to bursting, kick gobs of seed to the ground, and fling themselves – fully loaded – into space and somehow catch a limb or bit of fence and escape into the great unknown. They are fearless.

The birds alight on the feeder, too, but mostly they find their fortune on the ground.

Over the summer, directly beneath the feeder, corn plants appeared. We let them grow for a while. I confess, the corn made us smile. “We have corn!” we’d giggle at the absurdity even though the origin was obvious. Apparently we are easily amused.

And then the corn plants sprouted across the yard. A stalk grew right next to Breck-the-Aspen-Tree. And then we found a few lively plants pressing through the tall grasses in the front yard. We’d unintentionally set into motion a small-sample-experiment of corn migration as carried by birds and mini-beasts.

Across many cultures, corn has long been a symbol of prosperity and representative of the cycle of life. It’s easy to understand why. The fields are magical places. In our film mythos, baseball teams of yore emerged from the corn, bringing good fortune to the family that built a field on their farm. Giver of dreams. Fulfiller of hope. Ancestors return to the corn.

In addition to the summer of the bunny and the surprise frog-named-Hope, this is the summer of corn-on-the-move. As the leaves begin to turn, as the harvest comes in, we take comfort knowing that we are surrounded by so many symbols of plenty.

read Kerri’s blogpost about CORN

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Filed under: Flawed Wednesday, Gratitude, Metaphor, Possibility, Seeing | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

Bring It To Life [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

Posted on August 12, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

We’re staying put this summer. Circumstance requires it though that hasn’t put a damper on our capacity to dream. “If you could go anywhere right now, where would you go?” For us, it’s a daily game and fun to play.

Kerri and I are roadtrippers. New experiences feed our imaginations and our artistry. Kerri imagines composing with her piano firmly seated at the edge of the canyonlands. I imagine a series of artist-residencies providing stops along the way, taking us to beautiful places to create, stir the pot, meet new people, ignite ideas…

It’s a great dream. Our job, as we see it, one way or the other, is to bring it to life.

read Kerri’s blogpost about TRAVEL DREAMS

smack-dab. © 2023 kerrianddavid.com

share. like. support what we do. comment on it, too. it all helps us grow. it helps bring our dream to life.

Filed under: Art, Creativity, smack-dab | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments »

Labor For Surprise [on DR Thursday]

Posted on June 29, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

I designed the set using a David-Hockey color palette. Rich and vibrant. A gifted scenic artist brought my renderings to life. I was concerned. Sometimes what looks good on paper does not scale well. Sometimes scaling up fulfills the promise. Dreams are that way, too. You can’t possibly know a good idea is genuinely good until you give it a try.

I moved from California to Seattle. When I first arrived in Seattle I took my paintings to many, many galleries hoping to find representation. I was excited to be in a city with a mature art scene. I was ready to scale up my career. The response was unanimous: my paintings were too vibrant. Too much color. As a kindness, one gallery owner suggested that my paintings were appropriate for a California audience but would never sell in Seattle. Apparently the cloudy skies and reputation for rain dampened en masse the local appreciation of color.

I was deflated but undeterred.

After a season or two in Seattle my color palette was noticeably different, toned down. The ubiquitous rain naturally muted my spectrum of color. There’s no telling what will happen when lofty dreams hit the hard work of reality. It’s unpredictable. The labor of surprise. Once I was sufficiently color-muted, everyday, every-single-day for 15 years, I showed paintings in galleries, in coffeehouses, in theatre lobbies, in studios, in pop-up shows…

I left Seattle when I met Kerri. I knew immediately that she was The One. Early on, before I actually moved, as we were driving around town, I wondered if my art-life would survive in this new place. I wondered if it was time for me to scale down. The same rule that applies to scaling up also applies to the opposite direction. It was new territory. My dream had never included the idea of trimming. From this vantage point I can safely say that I had no idea how hard it would be and no idea of the abundant changes – that brought simple abundance – this move would bring.

Yesterday Jen asked, if we had life to live over again, and money wasn’t an option, would we make the same choices. Kerri and I laughed heartily at the money-part. This path has been hard – so far, money hasn’t been an option – but we were unanimous and immediate in our response: I wouldn’t – we wouldn’t – change a thing. This dream was and continues to be a genuinely good idea, regardless of scale, filled to the brim with vibrant color and the hard labor of surprise.

cloud watchers, acrylic on canvas, 20×49.5IN, © circa 2002

My still-as-yet-unfinished-because-I’m debating-the-how-what-and-why-of-my-life-website

read Kerri’s blogpost about PEONY RAIN

if you like it, like it. share it. comment, or buyusacoffee. we love writing it and appreciate that you read it.

Filed under: Art, Creativity, DR Thursday, Gratitude | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

Feel The Dope Slap [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on February 8, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

This morning I awoke agitated. Restless. I’m blaming my dreams. I know I had tons of dreams last night but I can’t remember a single one. I find it useful to blame my restlessness on something as slippery as an unremembered dream. It prevents any significant self-reflection or responsibility for my unease.

I just popped Rob on the head for diminishing his own work. He’s a prolific and gifted playwright and referred to his latest piece as “…another corpse being thrown on a mass grave of scripts.” After I sent the email-head-pop I admitted to myself that I was actually ALSO popping myself on the head. I used his head as a proxy. Popping other people on the head is also useful for avoiding any significant self-reflection. Although I admitted to myself that my head deserved a good slap, I successfully transferred the impact to Rob. No further self-reflection needed! I’ll wait for Rob to write me back with a return dope-slap. He’s a great friend and I deserve nothing less. Really, I deserve a good slap but I refuse to slap myself. That would require taking responsibility for my actions and my indulgent restlessness is getting in the way.

I’ve known for years that Dogga is a master teacher. Among his many lessons is contentment. And, what constitutes contentment is unique to each individual. For instance, most folks want to find a nice beach to lay on. Not Dogga! His nirvana is found in a deep pile of snow. He’s never happier than when the temperature plummets and the white stuff falls. He can linger for hours on the snowy deck in blissful satisfaction, doing nothing more than appreciating his moment. His teaching method is gentle. Unlike me, he eschews head slaps. He lives his peace, affording me the opportunity to emulate it or not.

The other thing I appreciate about Dogga’s lessons: he has absolutely no investment in how long it might take for me to learn. He is not concerned about whether or not I ever learn his lesson of contentment. His job is to make the offer. He is not concerned at all with the reception.

Perhaps the cure to what currently ails me is a few moments sitting with Dogga in the snow. I think I’ll invite Rob. It’s the least I could do after using his head to slap mine.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SNOWDOG

Filed under: Art, Creativity, Edges, Flawed Wednesday, Random | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

Settle In and Listen [on KS Friday]

Posted on January 20, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

Columbus would sit by the stereo for hours and listen to his records. His collection of styles was all over the map: classical, jazz, country, pop…The vinyl itself was wide-ranging: 45’s and 33 1/3 rpm’s, thick records weighing 180 grams or more. One of my favorite memories is of a dark night, sitting with him for hours, as he played selections for me. “I wonder what this one is,” he’d say, pulling a record from its sleeve. Or, “Oh, you’ll appreciate this one. It’s really odd!”

His enjoyment of music was as much an exploration into the unknown as a return to old favorites; he listened to discover. He’d study, laugh at the quirky and savor to sublime.

Growing up I did not know of his love for music. I suppose with four kids there wasn’t space in his life for his passions since he was an avid supporter of our dreams. I knew he thrived in the mountains and liked nothing better than throwing a fishing line into a lake. His deep appreciation for music came as a surprise.

We brought his records home with us to Wisconsin. They aren’t worth much monetarily. Occasionally I thumb through the albums, pull one, and play it on our little suitcase record player. Over the holidays, Kerri brought out her parent’s LP’s and I pulled the Christmas music from Columbus’ collection. We listened and told stories of Christmas past.

Recently we wandered through an antique store and came upon the boxes and boxes of old vinyl records. Kerri quipped that her CD’s would someday show up in the antique store with my paintings stacked against a wall. I looked a the boxes and wondered what I should do with my dad’s albums. They will, inevitably, end up stacked next to my paintings and Kerri’s CD’s in some moldy old antique mall. So, perhaps I need do nothing with them yet.

Really, I am waiting for an opportunity, a night that I will settle in with the record player and pull Columbus’ vinyl from their sleeves and ask, “I wonder what this one is?”

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about VINYL

it’s a long story/this part of the journey © 1998 kerri sherwood

Filed under: Family, Gratitude, KS Friday, Love | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

Dream [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

Posted on January 14, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

Sleep is hit or miss in our house. If it’s a miss for one, it’s a miss for all. Synchronized sleeping is rare.

Last night, Kerri woke me at 12:45. “I’m-up-you-up?” We ate snacks. We talked. Our midnight conversation lasted until 4am. In case you’re wondering, important stuff arises when talking through the night.

The downside of world-class-deep-night-chat is that morning arrives and it’s brutal. Coffee is not a luxury. I immediately invoke the no-power-tools rule. It’s important, when sleep deprived, to stay away from sharp objects or motor-driven-blades.

It’s good thing I don’t work in construction. These days I’d get very little accomplished.

read Kerri’s blogpost about DREAMS

smack-dab. © 2023 kerrianddavid.com

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Immerse [on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on January 10, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

The bright green ring in the tree beckoned. A time portal. Climb the tree and slip through the hoop to another time. Another place. What will you find there? It was one of many awe-inspiring moments in the immersive light experience at the Chicago Botanical Gardens.

A few weeks ago Rob suggested that I consider producing immersive experiences and my walk through the Gardens started a thought-wander.

Immersive is a new word in town. Well, it’s an old verb sporting a new adjective meaning. It’s a tech term. Surrounding “the user” with a generated 3-D image. Wander around town and you’ll find Immersive Van Gogh or Immersive Monet or Frida Kahlo, also Immersive. Technically, escape rooms are immersive. So is Disney World. A 3-D created experience.

A walk in the woods cannot be considered immersive since no technology is involved.

Immersion, one step beyond immersive, is the “perception of being physically present in a non-physical world.” Virtual reality. Dreams might be considered immersive except, like nature, technology is absent so the experience cannot be considered virtual or immersion.

To immerse means to dunk yourself in liquid or to dive deeply into a passion. When I stand before my easel and brush color onto canvas, I leave the world as I know it. I immerse in my paintings, though viewers of my paintings are incapable of having an immersive experience with my less-than-3-D-paintings. Is paint a technology? When Kerri plays, she enters a transcendent place. She fills the room with energy and light and I am transported. Am I having an immersive experience? I believe so.

Rounding a bend the night we walked through the Garden we came upon a field of illuminated pillars, colors changing and hopping with the beat of the music. I told Kerri that I saw this very display 20 years ago in an art gallery, though the technology 20 years ago was new and not nearly as impressive as what flashed in the field in front of us. The pillar-field was alive and was both mesmerizing and familiar.

The Gardens themselves, sans lights and music, are immersive. Groomed and created, meant to transport us from our everyday lives. We oooh and aaaah every time we visit. An explosion of color in a petal. The shape of a leaf. The quiet of the grove.

I loved the lights, the heightened immersive experience. We’ll make it a tradition. I’m excited to immerse in Van Gogh or thrill my way through Cirque du Soleil. As for producing immersive experiences, I am content to smear color on canvas or fall head-long into a story. Or, best of all, walk our path through the woods. There is no greater transporter of time-and-space than to suddenly find myself eye-to-eye with a fox crossing the trail.

read Kerri’s blogpost about HOOPS

Filed under: Art, Creativity, Perspective, Two Artists Tuesday | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

Drink It In [on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on August 9, 2022 by davidrobinsoncreative

“…and then, I have nature and art and poetry, and if that is not enough, what is enough?” ~Vincent Van Gogh

We stood for a long time staring at the quaking aspen trees. Initially, we went to the nursery to look at grasses to plant against the fence. Tall grasses. Pampas. Oddly, Colorado called and we were drawn as if hypnotized by the siren song of the aspen stand. In the breeze, the leaves make this sound…

Like all things in our life, our backyard has been blasted to bits by the force of the events of past few years. We are now, slowly, pulling the pieces back together again. We’re working our way toward blank canvas, clawing our way back to zero. We are, at long last, beginning to dream the dreams that percolate beyond mere survival. To design life with more than duct tape solutions.

The aspen quaked for us and we quaked for it. We exchanged a silent promise. Not yet. There are too many things on the list that need to be done. But the promise is made and a design is taking shape.

The gift of free fall is that it indelibly sears appreciation of the small moment, the passing kindness into your soul. It’s a great perspective giver. Precious life is the thing that passes while wishing and moaning to be safe and secure somewhere else. If you’re lucky, as we are, you hold hands and experience the full palette of life experiences.

“The grasses remind me of the beach and Long Island,” she said. “Someday, we’ll bring the aspen and the grasses together. Both of our birthplaces in the backyard.”

A design intention. A new experience. A promise to a vibrant stand of trees made on a sunny day in a quiet nursery. Drinking it all in. Beautiful.

It is enough. More than enough.

read Kerri’s blog post about the ASPEN STAND

Filed under: Awakening, Creativity, Emergence, Gratitude, Identity, Possibility, Seeing, Two Artists Tuesday | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

Reseed [on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on April 11, 2022 by davidrobinsoncreative

We pulled everything off the walls of the office. The photographs and posters of plays I’ve directed, Kerri’s first album, framed, a gift. Our poster announcing Beaky’s Books. “I don’t think the office should be about the past,” she said. “It’s time to make this space about our current work and the future.”

She chose a painting, Nap On The Beach, one of many created from our experiences together. She’s making a poster of Smack-Dab, our cartoon. Turning our eyes from what we’ve done, where we’ve been, who we were. We’ve changed. We want different things now. We work in different ways now.

She’s slowly cleaning out the house. I can’t help. This is something she must do by herself. Purging closets, the laundry room, the storage and work rooms. The year of water upended our house. Several times. It continues in the front yard, all the way to the street. When the ground settles, we’ll reseed the lawn. How’s that for a metaphor? When the ground settles, we will reseed.

It takes time for the ground to settle. It can’t be rushed. It should not be rushed. The same is true for cleaning out. We have new piles forming: what goes, what stays. I climb the stairs to the office each morning. When I come down again, she shows me the new space that she’s created from the day’s purge. It’s true on many levels. She’s creating space. Old baggage and burdens are going out with the old clothes and broken appliances. I can see it in her eyes. Space. Light. Like the house, she is beginning to breathe again.

She told me about the dream, her father was setting up microphones. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Working for tomorrow,” he said.

I had to work hard not to weep. She’s had a rough few years. “Your daddy’s talking to you,” I said. “Sage advice.”

She nodded. Her eyes turning from the pain and constraints of the injuries. Letting go of the past. “Work for tomorrow,” she smiled.

read Kerri’s blog post about WORK FOR TOMORROW

Filed under: Gratitude, Identity, Merely A Thought Monday, Metaphor, Possibility | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment »

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