Welcome Home [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on March 8, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

I realized on a night dive, 90 feet below the surface in the darkest dark I’d ever experienced, that my consciousness was like the flashlight I held. I saw only what was in the small space illuminated by my light. There was a vast world beyond what I could perceive in my limited view. I understood that the most potent choice I have – or will ever have – is where I decide to aim my light.

“Welcome home!” she said as we stepped into the gallery with three magnificent sculptures by Barbara Hepworth. The soft light, the floor-to-ceiling windows drawing us toward the lake. An open clean space. She was imagining this room was what our future home might feel like. I lapsed into studio fantasies.

I’ve always appreciated this room in the museum but for some reason, on this day, the sculptures were magnetic. While Kerri took photographs, I communed with Barbara Hepworth. The pieces are totems. Sacred symbols. Barbara Hepworth was a woman sculptor in a century that pretended the arts were the province of men. Her life spanned both world wars. She reached beyond the horror of her time to something more elemental. I found hope in her work. Guidance. Perseverance. She was shining her light on what humankind might become. Form and emptiness, perfectly balanced.

“Look,” Kerri said, showing me the photo. “It’s a porthole.” A perfect circle. A horizon. “I could stay here all day,” she closed her eyes and breathed in the space.

“Me, too.” Welcome home.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE PORTHOLE

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Sip The Hope [on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on February 20, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

I keep a Post-It note by my computer. It reads: Grace. Questions not answers. It’s there to remind me to write about possibilities rather than rants. There’s so much in this world that seems upside-down to me; it’s easy to get lost in the weeds. For instance, in preparation for this post I was doing a comparison of the percentage of GDP dedicated to the arts, to education, and to the military. What if we lived in a world in which the percentages were flipped? What might be possible?

And, then, I saw my note. Get out of the weeds! To embrace a world of possibili-teas begins with embracing the world as it is.

Possibilities. Wouldn’t it be lovely if a cup of tea opened hearts and minds to hope? In fact, I believe a hot cup of tea is capable of such a monumental feat. I warm my hands on the cup. I smell the comfort. I sip the hope. There are other, similar, small gestures capable of big-heart-opening: A smile. A hug. A helping hand.

I stared at the word “grace” on my Post-It note. Simple elegance. Refinement of movement. I like this definition: courteous goodwill. Or. combine both definitions: to move in the world with simple courteous goodwill. Intentional benevolence.

As I’ve learned, the flaw opens space for grace to enter. Wabi-sabi. Beauty in imperfection. Compassion in our world is possible, especially if we embrace it as more necessary than lobbing insults or bombs. Friendliness, thoughtfulness, decency…As my Post-It note suggests, I am left with a question: What if we lived in a world in which amity garnered more attention than aggression? What might be possible?

Just like a cup of hot tea: a wee-bit of warming hope.

read Kerri’s blogpost about POSSIBILI-TEAS

Filed under: Language, Merely A Thought Monday, Metaphor, Possibility | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

Let It Rain [on DR Thursday]

Posted on January 5, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

We are reading Raynor Winn’s new book, Landlines. It is terrific. We make a cup of tea, get under a blanket on the old couch in the sitting room, Dogga asleep at our feet, and Kerri reads to me. Life does not get better than this.

A theme in the book is to put yourself in the way of hope. It has become my mantra for the turn of the year. Hope is coming through; stand in its path.

I started a new painting. I’ve been making sketches for a few weeks. It is the theme I snagged on when broken wrists and lost jobs stopped all artistic motion.: train through trees. As David Bayles and Ted Orland write, there is a difference between stopping and quitting. I stopped for a spell. Putting on my painter-clothes and descending into the studio felt like coming back into myself. Embodiment. As I lay out the composition and layered in some under tones, I felt as if air rushed into my lungs after holding my breath for too long.

We mimicked our smack-dab cartoon and took a midnight walk along Lake Michigan to bring in the new year. “Star dust is raining down on us,” Kerri said, in the first minute of 2023.

Stardust. Standing in the path of hope. A deep full breath. A good book and a warm blanket. A cup of tea. The excitement of rushing to photograph a train racing through the trees – and all things that inspire a painter to paint, a composer to compose, and two writers sitting side-by-side to capture their thoughts as the ritual beginning of each new day.

Life does not get better than this.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BUFFALO PLAID

Filed under: Art, Creativity, DR Thursday | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

Greet The New Day [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

Posted on December 31, 2022 by davidrobinsoncreative

“It’s like we have this one chance. To greet the new day. Outside. A night with stars. And…it’s a new year. Riiiight now. All ours. Under the big, big, sky.” ~ Kerri Sherwood, Smack-Dab.

It warmed my heart when she showed me this week’s Smack-Dab. A message of hope. Available Riiight Now!

My beautiful wife, whose very first words to me, when I asked her to tell-me-in-a-nutshell-what-was-going-on, were, “I don’t do nutshells,” has achieved at long last an exquisite nutshell.

Happy New Year. Greet the new day. All yours. Under the big, big sky.

read Kerri’s blogpost on this saturday morning smack-dab.

smack-dab. © 2022-23 kerrianddavid.com

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Step In [on DR Thursday]

Posted on December 22, 2022 by davidrobinsoncreative

I’ve read that the purpose of the gorgeous soaring cathedrals, built in the middle ages over many lifetimes, in the age before power tools and hydraulic lifts, was to transport the worshipper from the harsh realities of their everyday lives. To give them a small glimpse into their notion of heaven. A sanctuary. A taste of peace.

We made it a point to stop. The road home from Chicago runs past the small village square with the gazebo awash in the light of a tree, the brilliant green and blue spheres beckoning. It was late at night and very cold but we had to stop. We wandered, breaking the cold silence with crunchy footfall and took photographs. For a few moments time stopped. Rather than being transported from our lives, we stepped fully into our moment. We entered our present-cathedral, alive with many moons, and absorbed its quiet peace.

Open to all the stars in the universe, this sanctuary filled us with beauty and hope.

That night, all we needed to do to fill ourselves with hope was make it a point to stop. To step out of our warm car and step into the cold night. No stonemasons needed. No toil-over-lifetimes. Just a simple decision. Stop. Open the door. Step in.

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SQUARE

Face the Rain, 24×24″

face the rain © 2019 david robinson

joy!/ joy! a christmas album © 1998 kerri sherwood

Filed under: Awakening, DR Thursday | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

Throw Open The Window [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on December 21, 2022 by davidrobinsoncreative

Sometimes it feels as if we were shot into space for a few years and have come back to much changed Earth. Or, it feels like we were stranded on a desert island and are returning to places now strange in their familiarity. Reentry from isolation. Everything is changed. We are changed. The rituals of the season punctuate the strangeness.

We’ve been delighted to once again have dinner with friends. Unmasked. Unprotected. Indoors. I look at the faces of the people I love as we laugh and I think, “Oh, yes. I remember this.” The warmth of companions-in-life, reaching across time and covid boundaries. “We missed you,” we say, relearning who we are together. Our faces are older. Perhaps wiser in all that has passed.

Last year we drove to North Carolina. We arrived late in the day on Christmas. We walked through the small town, beautifully lit for the season, though seemingly abandoned. Our footsteps echoed off the walls. We were happy to be there, enjoyed the displays in the windows, we walked down the center of the street with no thought of possible traffic. We held hands. The absence of others was so normal that we didn’t think it odd that we had an entire town to ourselves.

This year is the mirror image, an alternate reality. People are out. We are out though the vestiges of isolation hang on us like Marley’s chain. We stop to take photos of the lights like ethnographers fascinated by the ceremonies of the locals. I found myself staring at the row of illuminated trees wondering what it represents. “Why can’t it just be pretty!” I admonished myself. “This is how people celebrate the season.”

And, aren’t we all looking for the moment that Scrooge awakes after a night of ghosts with new eyes and a deeper understanding of precious life, throwing open the window to the morning sun, hoping against all hope that he hasn’t missed it and asks, “Boy! You there! What day is it?”

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about LIGHTS

Filed under: Flawed Wednesday, Identity, Metaphor, Perspective | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

Spread The Warm Disobedience [on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on December 19, 2022 by davidrobinsoncreative

The roads around here are a mess. There’s a major road-widening construction project that’s in its second year. Orange barrels, heavy machinery, multiple lanes too quickly squeezed into a single pathway (“Zipper merge!” we mock-shout and laugh, borrowing a phrase from Kirsten), lines painted and repainted making a Jackson Pollock mess of the guide stripes. People in the midst the holiday rush are amped-up angry drivers, impatient with the mess, leaning on their horns, cutting off other drivers to get-there-first.

Get-out-of-my-way meets the-season-of-giving. Defensive driving morphs into aggressive driving. It brings back memories of life in Los Angeles and Dwights-survival-advice: “You have to force traffic if you want to get anywhere alive,” he said. Hesitation is deadly. L.A.-style dog-eat-dog-driving has come to Kenosha, Wisconsin.

And then, when you least expect it, in the middle of the snarl, a person slows, makes space for a car trying to enter the fray at an impossible junction, and gestures, “Come in.” Their simple act, considering the needs of another, is shocking. ‘You first,” seems revolutionary.

My favorite part: it sends a shock through the roadway and ignites a momentary ripple of kindness. Drivers make space for other drivers. Courtesy returns for the blink of an eye before disappearing back into the fury.

Kindness ripples. It happens every time some brave soul slows down in the violent storm and realizes that they are not alone on the planet and wonders, “How can I help right now?” Their act of warm disobedience spreads.

read Kerri’s blogpost about KINDNESS

Filed under: Merely A Thought Monday, Possibility | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

Face The Sun [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on November 16, 2022 by davidrobinsoncreative

Brilliant yellow leaves are raining down in our backyard. The pond is disappearing beneath the blanket and although the little fountain has been knocked off center, it refuses to relinquish its duty. November. The temperatures are dropping like a stone.

We were awake deep into the night. We’d given up on sleep. We’d already indulged in a snack and were about to watch a PCT hiking video when we heard the owl. Our neighbor, John, told us it was back but we hadn’t yet heard it. At first, we thought we imagined the quiet who-whoo. Kerri opened the window. Cold air and clear hoots poured in. An old friend returned. We wanted to jump up and dance and clap but refrained. Sometimes quiet revelry is best.

We came around the bend in the trail we’ve come to know so well. The shady parts were cold and the sunny bits felt divine. Warmth to the bone, the kind you drink in through your face and the palms of your hands. Emerging from a shady bend we turned toward the sun when the dandelion caught us off guard. Seasonal confusion? Or, perhaps, dandy-outlier? How on earth was this splash of summer-yellow shining in the late autumn chill?

Kerri knelt to capture the intrepid weed. I thought about her Fistful of Dandelions, a song to warm a mother’s heart. This rebellious single flower was, like me, turning its full face to the sun. A kindred spirit. A weed to warm my hiker’s heart. A spirit-lift in a time of too much darkness.

I’m given to metaphor so decided this hopeful weed with deep, deep roots, was, like the owl, sending me a message. An old friend returned. Offering encouragement. Chin up. Face to the sun. Anything is possible. Optimism need not flee with the onset of cold.

read Kerri’s blogpost about the DANDELION

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

Look Both Ways [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on September 7, 2022 by davidrobinsoncreative

“We are an impossibility in an impossible universe.” ~ Ray Bradbury

This is, perhaps, a quote sandwich.

Standing at the edge of the lake at sunset, the breezes calm, the quiet stills the water. Who hasn’t felt the beautiful impermanence, the last rays of sun on their face? The truth of life captured in a single moment. It is passing. Precious. Impossible.

Climbing back up the stairs, joining the group on the deck. Red wine. The conversation turns to the news: the state of the world. Politics.

“Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I’m not sure about the universe.” ~ Albert Einstein.

We are, after all, capable of the impossible. Full spectrum impossibility. We write symphonies that open hearts. We tell stories that touch the soul. We witness sunsets and desire for a better world for our children. We create telescopes to help us see deeper and deeper into space. To reach to alien worlds. All the while we divide. We lie and propagandize to feed false fire. We plant our heads deeply into the sand while we soil our nest. We reduce the impossible miracle to a book of man-made rules. Worshipping money and pretending otherwise.

Both/And. Impossibly capable. Impossibly inept. Impossibly hopeful and impossibly pessimistic.

We stand at the water’s edge.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE LAKE

Filed under: Flawed Wednesday, Identity, Metaphor | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

Welcome The Symbol [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on July 13, 2022 by davidrobinsoncreative

The daisy plays a central role in our story. And, not surprisingly, daisies represent, among other things, new beginnings and rebirth. When I first met Kerri, a friend, a wise older woman, told me that the universe was offering me a second chance.

At our first meeting, she waited for me in the concourse holding a daisy. Three weeks later I flew back for a second visit. She awaited me in the concourse holding a bushel of daisies. An abundance of renewal. At our wedding, daisies ringed the altar. Daisy cupcakes, instead of a wedding cake, were made special by our miracle-baker Susan.

Daisies are also symbolic of love, cheerfulness, hope, and affection. All are present in our second chance.

Unlike other people, Kerri doesn’t toss the daisies when they wither. She considers them beautiful and carriers of story. One of the daisies from our wedding sat atop the shelf by our bed and only recently passed beyond brittle into daisy dust. The dust made its way into the back yard, sprinkled with appreciation like a magic love potion.

During the pandemic-job-loss-broken-wrist epoch, there was a distinct absence of daisies in our house. Hunkering down and isolating brought a daisy void. A few weeks ago, I came down the stairs from my office to find a row of chipper daisies adorning the dining room table.

“I thought we needed some daisies,” Kerri said and smiled.

Yes. A thousand times, yes.

New beginnings. Rebirth.

If I could, I’d dose this sad discordant world with a hundred million daisies but, for now, it’s a great start welcoming home our special symbol of hope, beauty, cheerfulness, regeneration.

read Kerri’s blogpsot about DAISIES

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  • visit the studio melange at kerrianddavid.com

  • The Seer available on Amazon.com

  • Lucy & The Waterfox is also available on Amazon.com