Be Grateful [on KS Friday]

grateful song box copy

Grateful. The perfect word to carry into the season. Today, the perfect word has a soundtrack. Enjoy it with your family and leftovers.

 

GRATEFUL on the album AS IT IS available on iTunes & CDBaby

 

read Kerri’s blog post about GRATEFUL

 

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grateful/as it is ©️ 2004 kerri sherwood

Touch An Angel [on KS Friday]

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Kerri is thready. Important dates are always noticed and honored in our house. She is nearly Balinese in her attention to auspicious dates. Soon we will honor the life and loss of Wayne. Kerri’s brother Wayne passed away many years before I came into her life. I knew immediately about him. She adored him. He is certainly one of her good angels.

Through her stories and those memories warmly told by her family, I feel he is now one of my kindred spirits, too. Every once in a while, when I need a good bit of brotherly advice, I ask him questions – well, one question in particular (“What am I going to do with your sister?!! She’s out of control!”). He has yet to answer me but like all good angels I do hear him howling with laughter at her antics and my utter confusion.

On this KS Friday, reach for your good angels. Let Kerri’s song for Wayne put you on the back of his bike and take a ride into a special place and time with those you’ve loved and lost. Toast them with a good cup of java, as I do Wayne. From what I hear he was nearly as great a coffee lover as I am.

 

ANGEL YOU ARE on the album AS SURE AS THE SUN available on iTunes & CDBaby

 

read Kerri’s blog post about ANGEL YOU ARE

 

www.kerrianddavid.com

 

angel you are/as sure as the sun ©️ 2002 kerri sherwood

Let Me Take You Back [it’s KS Friday]

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let me take you back

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Before Kerri and I were married, I asked her daughter, Kirsten, to tell me ‘the one thing’ I should know and understand about her mother. Kirsten’s answer was immediate. “Mom’s the most thready person you will ever meet,” she said.

It is true. Kerri is the most ‘thready’ person I have ever met. Thready means threaded to the past. We mark auspicious days. Each piece of furniture in our house carries a story. Every day she writes in her calendar what we did or what happened; at the end of the year it is our ritual to read the calendar and retell the stories of the days just lived. We light candles for lost loved ones.

She is rooted, deeply rooted, in family, in ancestry, and she actively and consciously tends the root through her thready-ness. And, what is most remarkable to me, is that her thready-ness is not weighty. It is in no way heavy. It is light-hearted and surprising and lively, just like her composition Let Me Take You Back. On this KS Friday, take a moment, and let Kerri give your spirit a lift. Let her take you back.

 

LET ME TAKE YOU BACK on the album AS IT IS available (track 12) on iTunes & CDBaby

Kerri’s designs & TAKE YOU BACK products

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read Kerri’s blog post about LET ME TAKE YOU BACK

www.kerrianddavid.com

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

let me take you back – designs & products ©️ 2018 kerri sherwood & david robinson

 

In Beauty I Walk [it’s Two Artists Tuesday]

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“I am only so beautiful as the character of my relationships, only so rich as I enrich those around me, only so alive as I enliven those I greet.” ~ Derrick Jensen

I know many many artists who do what they do for love; their motivation is intrinsic. Their work is beautiful. I don’t mean their finished pieces (although they, too, are beautiful). I’m referencing their relationship to their work. It is lively, mysterious, expansive and generous. And, in order to stay healthy, they’ve long ago abandoned the notion that they might make a living through their artwork. Some do. Most do not.

I know many many artists who no longer do what they used to love to do. In the absence of an extrinsic reward (money), they began to see their love-work as worthless. They reduced themselves to a monetary equation and found themselves lacking. Considering their love without value, their well went dry. Their muse withered.

In our confused times it is the fortunate person who understands value as something greater than dollars and cents. Love, beauty, joy, family, generosity, learning, community, surprise, mystery…all words of relationship, all valuable beyond measure. All defy easy quantification.

From studio melange on Two Artists Tuesday, a gentle reminder to look to the space between, to value the process of living, the right-now-relationships where beauty is always to be found. Walk there.

IN BEAUTY I WALK gifts and cool stuff

daisy tote bag copy

read Kerri’s blog post about IN BEAUTY I WALK

www.kerrianddavid.com

‘in beauty i walk’ image & products ©️ 2018 kerri sherwood & david robinson

Find Your Treasures [On Chicken Marsala Monday]

A Chicken Nugget from studio melange to start your week.

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if you like this nugget, share this nugget

I adored my grandpa Chan. I carry his middle name. Because he lived in Iowa and I grew up in Colorado my time with him was rare and precious. After his death, as his sons were sorting through his possessions, they asked if I wanted anything, something he might want me to have or to keep close. Immediately I thought of one thing: an old, barely functioning nutcracker that he kept by the pool table in his basement. He let me win many games at that table. We often cracked nuts during my surprising winning streaks.  I wanted it because he held it and, as treasures go, now, for me, it holds him.

find your treasures rect pillow copyI keep Chan’s nutcracker in a special box (DeMarcus’ paint box – another priceless treasure). When I am feeling blue or somehow alone in the world, I retreat to my basement and hold that nutcracker in my hand. I feel the presence of a man, my grandfather, so full of laughter and more than his share of mischief. “Do you want to shoot some pool?” I ask, feeling the alone-ness dissipate.

FIND YOUR TREASURES reminder merchandise

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find your treasures CARD copy

Chicken Gift Cards

find your treasures CHICKEN SQ PILLLOW copy

Chicken Pillows

find your treasures LEGGINGS copy

Find Your Treasure Leggings

find your treasures FRAMED ART PRINT copy

Wall Art

find your treasures mETAL TRAVEL MUG copy

Mugs & Travel Mugs

read kerri’s blog post about FIND YOUR TREASURE

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kerrianddavid.com

 

find your treasure ©️ 2016 david robinson & kerri sherwood

Two Artists Tuesday

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Standing at the doorstep of her mortality, Kerri’s mom, Beaky, turned to her daughter and offered these words of advice. Live life, my sweet potato. This print hangs by our front door as a reminder of two very precious gifts: Beaky and this life.

Live life; who doesn’t occasionally need a reminder?

A few years ago, as a readership experiment, we created and published a series of simple images with words. Each image or phrase had a special meaning for us. We called the series two-artists-making-stuff-for-humans. The experiment was a success, our readership quickly grew, and then, like all attention deficit artists, we moved on to other projects. In the melange, Tuesdays belong to Two Artists.

 

LIVE LIFE, MY SWEET POTATO

kerrianddavid.com

live life, my sweet potato ©️ 2016 kerri sherwood & david robinson

 

Touch The Arc

A painting I did twenty years ago of my dad.

Years ago I started a portrait of my dad (we call him Columbus) emerging from – or returning to – a cornfield. At the time it seemed an odd painting, something more elemental than intellectual. Something I had to paint though I didn’t really know why. I thought I’d left portrait painting far behind. Columbus is from a very small town in Iowa so the necessity of the cornfield made some small sense. He yearned to live in the town of his birth and although life took him other places he maintained a deep heart-root to Monticello. For Columbus, Monticello, Iowa was and always will be home.

After laying it out, after applying the under painting, the portrait felt complete – or I felt complete. So, I stopped. I have carried it with me all of these years.

These days, dementia has its slippery tentacles around Columbus. He is a mighty combatant in this tug of war, a war that he cannot win, and feeling his strength waning, his single wish was to one last time visit Monticello. So, this past week, Kerri, my mother, and I – as Kerri likes to say – followed Columbus’ heart around Monticello.

His heart took him three places. The first was to the cemetery. It is the place he will finally rest with his brother, parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles and friends. He wanted to wander. We followed him as he touched stones and told stories – stories he told to us but for himself: a friend who died too young in a car crash, a kind scoutmaster and mentor, an old girlfriend, a high school pal who flew an airplane and their adventures landing in cornfields. We followed, listening, renewed to the deeper truth that the stories we tell of others, the stories of shared time and experiences, both comic and tragic, when combined, scribe the arc of our own lives. Columbus needed to go to the end place to scribe his arc, to touch the depth and arc of his experiences.

The second place was the house that his grandpa Charlie built. It was the place of his childhood, the place of his greatest freedom, the place where all his stories begin and, now I know, where they return. This house is the cornfield. It is, for Columbus, the font of family and the source of his ideals. It is the symbol of his pride. This small house, with no electricity or running water, no indoor plumbing, this house that was pieced together with found material, smacked together with a handsaw and a hammer, an evolution, this house is Columbus’ holy ground. It still stands, just barely. And although now a storage shed for someone, it holds riches beyond words or measure. Columbus needed to stand in the source of his belief.

Finally, we followed his heart to visit his aunt JoAnne. She is only two years his senior but his aunt never-the-less. She is the last living person to know him through the entire passage of his life. She is his connective tissue, the one capable of affirming that it all happened, that the house and the people in it were exactly as he remembers, that this life, although only a minute long, is bottomless in the love that they share. They are the burning point of family, the front line. When we left her, Columbus and JoAnne hugged and cried, saying to each other but not for a moment believing it, “I’ll see you again.”

Stories told at the end place. Stories told from the beginning place. Stories told that connect the places. Columbus counts himself a lucky man. He knows with absolute certainty the trinity of places that hold his life/story. Sitting on the porch he (once again) taught me that stories – lives – are like a river and the flow transcends a single life. He just taught me that the story, a good life, like the painting, is never really complete.