The Way Home [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

This peony-perspective begs to be the inciting image of a children’s book. I imagine the main character comes from a world where people are smaller than flowers. Where bumblebees are happy Ubers delivering their small human riders to distant neighborhoods when they need a lift. Where nature is magical, playful and esteemed.

Not all ideas make it to the final draft so it’s important to stack up the ideas and have fun with the images. The main character sleeps inside the peony. The Uber bees are chaotic fliers and one never knows where they land; in this world, destination is always a surprise. Spontaneity is the norm.

In this world where people look up to flowers, “Home” is everywhere for everyone – so people, unacquainted with ownership or territory, have evolved as intrinsically helpful. Generosity of spirit is a highly prized character trait. Survival is not of the fittest but of the kindest.

Hummingbirds know the secret of finding sweet treats, caterpillars know the secret of patience.

Since this storybook is evolving as a sweet utopia, it begs the question, “What’s the conflict?” Stories do not work without obstacles. The bigger the better. What is the lesson our main character must learn? What gets lost that must be found? Maybe our little person, like Adam and Eve, falls out of their garden? Perhaps an Uber bee unwittingly flies our hero/heroine through a magic portal, to a place where people are bigger than flowers? In a world that seems sad and upside-down, the question becomes, how does our little person, lost in the land of big, find their way home?

read Kerri’s blogpost about PEONY PERSPECTIVE

Bonus! Perhaps this amazing composition will be the theme for the animated version of the story book once it garners a world-wide audience!

The Way Home/This Part of the Journey © 1997/2000 Kerri Sherwood

like. support. share. comment. subscribe. many thanks!

Language Blossoms [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

I just experienced something new: a visual route to a find synonym. That might not seem like a big deal but for a visual-guy like me it fundamentally changes my relationship with language.

I wanted another word for “shine” and, instead of finding a static linear list, a blossom of interconnectivity unfolded on my screen. Shine in the center, five interconnected primary synonyms, with each of the five subsequently sprouting five fingers of word possibility. I was gobsmacked. Like a child with a new toy, I clicked back into the site again and again so I might see the word bloom.

I’ve directed (and loved) many of Shakespeare’s plays. I am an avid reader. I write everyday and spend more time than I care to admit chasing down words. Yet, had you met me when I was a wee-lad of 22, none of these things would have seemed possible. It hurt to read. The worst hell imaginable for me was diagraming sentences. My knuckles were rapped by stern-faced English teachers more than once for poor use of language, rotten sentence construction. And, although I had an undeniable enthusiasm for the theatre, I literally hated reading plays when I was in high school.

Linear sequential is not my friend.

One day in my 24th year an actor introduced me to Shakespeare. Active language. Delicious sounds and living images. The penny dropped. The world opened. I have been a voracious eater-of-language ever since. When rehearsing, I dance my words.

Words matter. They are alive when not forced to toe-the-line. Symbol and sound, makers of meaning, each intimately connected to the other. When I come back to this earth I will hopefully be a poet, attempting to capture in language that which is impossible to articulate. The beauty of a pink tulip. A flower selected by a mother for a rare visit from her daughter. Our daughter. Our daughter: a surprising and remarkable combination of words I never thought I’d utter.

Language unfolds and reaches deep into pools of meaning. Words blossom. And nothing is ever the same.

read Kerri’s blogpost about PINK TULIPS

like. share. support. comment. four words that inspire gratitude in our hearts.

buymeacoffee is exactly what you make of it. the meaning is yours to give.

Mess With It [on Two Artists Tuesday]

skewed -framed copy

A simple image skewed. It becomes something else. The original was beautiful, simple stark contrasts. Iron grey corrugated metal meeting untouched snow.  Textures. Man made meeting nature made. It looked like an abstract painting.

When Kerri is restless she plays with images. My composer wife has a better visual eye than her painter husband. She can play for hours with a single image, designing from an inner imperative that words cannot reach. “What are you messing with?” I ask, already knowing the answer. Silence. She shakes her head, my question a horsefly to her concentration.

A curator might tell you that this photo represents a dream gone awry. A door that opened. A possibility that whispered. And then, like the iron grey metal meeting the snow, the dream met the realities of the moment and tilted. The door, the possibility was a mirage, a vanishing oasis.

Of course, a curator might say it represents any number of things and we’d affix their meaning to the image, even if we didn’t want to.  Words are powerful. Sticky.

A simple image. Another day. Another step. Skewed. What are you messing with? I already know the answer. Tell me what it means.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about SKEWED

 

bong trail, wisconsin website box copy

 

Reach With Wonder [on DR Thursday]

CloudWatchers morsel 2 copy

“One of the reasons that we wonder is because we are limited, and that limitation is one of the great gateways to wonder.” ~John O’Donohue

I loved this canvas before I painted Cloud Watchers on it. It was old and used. Chunky with layers. I can’t remember how it came to me but I do remember thinking that it was the Velveteen Rabbit of canvas. Loved. Well worn. A long history – that is to say – filled with lots and lots of story. Perfect.

And, how appropriate that it is living a next chapter as Cloud Watchers, part of a series that  I call ‘narrative.’ All narratives – inner and outer – are projections. Life’s stories are image transfers, meaning imposed just like the meaning we place upon the movement of clouds. There’s a duck! Look! There’s a dragon, a dinosaur, an elephant. A fear. A goal. An opinion. Mr Magoo! Belief! There’s Thomas Jefferson! The Buddha.

We reach with wonder from our isolation. We touch through imagination. We are cloud watchers full of story, filling the air with our stories. We are glorious creators all!

 

read Kerri’s blog post about CLOUD WATCHERS

 

star website box copy

 

cloud watchers/morsel ©️ 2002 – 6/2018 david robinson