memory | The Direction of Intention

Even To The Point [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on January 14, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

I lay awake last night and listened to the chimes. They are a great source of comfort to me. There is something eternal in their sound which calms my busy mind. Guy gifted the chimes to us and I wonder if he knows what a enormous gift he gave to us: a soothing sound, a calm mind. In the warm months I sit close to them because I can feel the sound.

The earring stand belonged to Kerri’s mother. It stands on her dresser with a stuffed gingham heart at the base. Sometimes wandering through antique malls I am overwhelmed. The “things” have lost any connection to their storyteller, to the person who used them each day, and so are reduced to merely objects. Their value is no longer in their story but in their stuff-ness. The earring stand inspires a story, evokes a memory.

We’re slowly going through our stuff. There are piles in the basement. Each item in every pile has a story. The stories requires us to move slowly, deliberately. Sometimes the story requires us to hold on. Sometimes the story requires us to move it out as soon as possible. Sometimes the story has run its course and it’s time for us to move on. We need to break the connection. Sometimes we find pieces that we know would be meaningful to others, connections to lost loved ones or to long-ago cherished places. We box and ship these surprises, facilitating a re-union.

When my dad passed I wanted a few of of his shot glasses. He kept a collection, a shot-glass record of his travels and of ours since we always brought home a new addition to add to his collection. They were on shelves all over the house. They lined the mantel. My few shot glasses are prized possessions. If we had to pare down our world to the bare minimum the shot glasses would make the cut. Someday they will likely end up in an antique mall. People will see them as stuff, mere objects, and I suppose that is okay. The connection, the story, will disappear with me when I go. It will be lost to others because the connection is within me, I carry it, not the shot glasses.

That micro-revelation is the gift of cleaning out the house: I am – we are – keepers of connection. We are story collectors. Story weavers. Our possessions ring through us like the wind through the chimes, making us resonate with all that we hold dear, memories that define us even to the point of needing to let them go.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE EARRING STAND

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Filed under: Flawed Wednesday, Gratitude, Identity, Story | Tagged: artistry, cleaning out, collector, connection, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, letting go, memory, memory trigger, possessions, sacred objects, story, story weaver, studio melange, the melange | 1 Comment »

Hold Space [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on December 2, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

“We are not the sum total of the tiny constituent parts that compose us — we are only ever-shifting and regenerating parts operating under the illusion of a sum we call a self.” Maria Popova, The Marginalian, November 26, 2025

We moved the big tree-sized branch from our living room to the deck outside. It had been a fixture in our house, covered with lights all year – with decorations added during the holidays, since 2021. It is now affixed to the deck and is once again wrapped in lights, set to a timer to pop on at sunset. The branch comes from the tree out front, the tree our children climbed when they were kids. It was snapped off the tree by the giant backhoe ripping up our yard to fix the water main when it burst. Kerri ran into the devastation and rescued the branch from certain destruction, keeping safe this small memory thread to the past.

Over the years the branch grew brittle as the memory thread strengthened and grew secure inside of Kerri. It was time to open up the space in our house and allow “the new” to enter.

I smiled when, after moving the tree-sized-branch onto the deck, she found and brought in a small pine branch. “Doesn’t it remind you of Ditch?” she asked? Ditch was a tiny pine-tree-sprout that we rescued and brought home from Colorado. Ditch traveled in a little cup and lasted a single season in the house but did not survive the transplanting into our backyard. It came from a significant trail, a place of profound experiences and life-changing conversations, that we hike when in Colorado: the Ditch Trail. Ditch, like the big branch, was a memory thread.

The little branch stands tall in a glass vase, sitting on the cafe table in our sun room. We sit there everyday, usually at sunset. It’s the place where we pause and review the happenings of each day. We are in a period of time that the Wander Women aptly named, “a wait-and-see” phase. Things are changing while we are still. We are like the newly opened space in the living room, we are inviting “the new” to enter. Even though we have no idea what that means, what it looks like, or even what we want to fill the available space, we know enough to make the space and to sit in it.

This little branch is also a thread to the future. It’s the invitation, the reminder of a recognition we once had on the Ditch Trail. Do not race through this moment, no matter how nebulous it seems. It’s like being lost in the woods and, rather than panic, sit down and enjoy the experience of being lost, knowing that it will pass. Hold space for what is precious, right here and now.

read Kerri’s blogpost about the BRANCH

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Filed under: Possibility, Story, Two Artists Tuesday | Tagged: artistry, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, future, here and now, hold space, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, memory, presence, story, studio melange, the melange, The Wander Women, wait and see | 1 Comment »

What I Remember [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on August 13, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

Memory is a funny thing. It’s almost never accurate. Over time we revisit and restory our life experiences, scrambling the order of events, forgetting essential details while hanging on with white knuckles to specific moments that we understand as truth.* This happened. It matters. I remember it.

I re-member it.

Joseph Campbell introduced me to a phrase, an aspect that is present in all creation myths: the paradox of dual focus. “…so now, at this critical juncture, where the One breaks into the many, destiny “happens,”but at the same time is “brought about.”

Kerri and I have an ongoing conversation about the paradox of dual focus. For instance, our coming-together-story seems fated, as if it was part of the grand-plan all along. “It was meant to be!” we exclaim. And, at the same time, we ask, “What are the odds?” Our meeting was a happy accident in a vast chaotic universe.

Both/And.

It just happened. And, it was meant to be. It depends upon how we re-member it. It depends upon how we want to story it.

A Balinese man told me that, in Bali, when two people crash their cars into each other, their first thought is “I am supposed to meet this person.” Insurance claims and blame are not priorities. Fate orchestrated a fender bender. The strangers emerge from their cars and greet each other as if fortune had just smiled upon them; they are two pieces of a greater puzzle come together.

Supposed to happen. Accident.

The greater puzzle. The essence beyond the fragments. The One that breaks into the many. Focusing on the small stone does not negate the truth of the mountain. The single blossom is an expression of the plant, which is nourished by the soil and rain and seasons and critters…

Memory is like that. It is both stone and mountain. Blossom and ecosystem. The order of things is less revealing than the essence, the relationship to the whole. We grow and change and so that what might have at one time seemed a hardship now seems a course correction, a blessing. Kismet.

It happened. It matters. That’s what I remember.

*(It is a sign of our times that I feel it necessary to distinguish my thoughts on individual memory from the facts of history. We live in a time when those in power are actively editing, scrubbing and rewriting history. They concoct a narrative that has little to do with the actual history of our nation. This is not dual focus. This is white supremacist fantasy-creation.)

read Kerri’s blogpost about BLOSSOMS

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Filed under: Flawed Wednesday, Identity, Story | Tagged: accident, artistry, chaos, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, dual focus, essence, fate, focus, happy accident, Joseph Campbell, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, kismet, memory, one, plan, story, studio melange, the melange | 1 Comment »

The Future We Plant [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on January 7, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

Milkweed seed pods in winter. It’s mauve flowers are by now a distant memory yet their remembrance also must serve as a desire. What would be the point of releasing its seed to the wind if there was no dream of future mauve blossoms?

Kerri and I are not so different from the Milkweed. We write everyday; our words are seeds released into the e-wind with the hope of reaching fertile hearts and minds. Who knows what blossoms our word-seeds might inspire?

Much of what we write is the mauve blossom of word-seeds sent on the e-wind by others. The thought-seed of others lands and is planted in our hearts and minds. Over time, with warmth and consideration, the seed cracks and sends new-thought shoots to the surface, seeking sun and expression. And so we write. We send. Others receive. In turn, they write or draw or dance – they send – and we receive. It’s a cycle of sharing that goes mostly unrecognized. A riot of unseen interconnectivity. It’s called inspiration.

Words, even the most casual, are more powerful than we realize. They are symbols. They are seeds of future-thought in others. Some, like invasive weeds, are capable of doing harm. They choke the inner landscape where they are planted. Some are like acorns. They land in timid hearts and produce towering strength beyond imagination.

When I listen to the discourse in our media and politics, I shudder at the seeds being planted. I marvel at the ease of misinformation, the ubiquity of lies. Words meant to mislead. Words meant to do harm. Words meant to hurt. Mean-spirited seeds.

I can’t help but wonder what fields of flowers we would produce if we understood the real power of our words. I wonder what future we plant in each other through the words we so easily release into the wind.

read Kerri’s blogpost about MILKWEED

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Filed under: Language, Metaphor, Two Artists Tuesday | Tagged: artistry, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, desire, discourse, give and receive, hearts, inspiration, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, language, media, memory, Milkweed, minds, politics, seeds, story, studio melange, the melange, words | 1 Comment »

My Constellations [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on December 5, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

Like stars in the sky, there are moments in life that form constellations. Actually, the stars do not form the constellations, we do. We are pattern seekers in our incessant meaning-making. I constellate my memories, sense-make my path, generate my revelations.

In our dedicated cleaning and rearranging of the house, the restoration project of my studio after the flood, we bought new shelves. My art and work books were piled high on an old computer desk, made mostly inaccessible. Gathering dust. With the new shelves, the ease of access to my books, comes new energy.

I sorted through my books before placing them on the shelves. Many of the work books, the resources I used for my past life, didn’t make the cut. In fact, none of them did. It was a revelation, placing them in sacks and moving them out of the house. With open space comes new energy.

Carrying a particularly loathsome sack of books to the recycle bin, I realized that every major change in my life has come with a book purge. When I left Los Angeles, I gave my library of 1000 plays to a friend. When I left central California for Seattle, I took a truckload of books to the used book store. I left a pile of favorites in the building that housed the school and theatre programs I’d created.

My books about Picasso, Matisse, Renoir, Leonardo, Michelangelo…they’ve always made the cut. They are space openers. Life-givers. The connective tissue in the constellation called “My Life”. This is not a revelation. I wondered why I so often turn away from it, stack my books and my life in difficult-to-reach ways.

Another gift Horatio gave to me in our call last week: as I was dumping on him my truckload of excuses and justifications for not painting, he stopped me, saying, “I think it’s much more elementary than you are making it. Decide what you want to do and do it. Your challenge is that you don’t know what you like.” He added, “You have the germs of what you like…”

Cleaning and placing my books on my shelf was like coming home. When I stood back and could see all that I’ve carried through my many, many moves, there was no doubt what I like, there is no doubt about what connects the many stars in my constellation.

read Kerri’s blogpost on THE DISH

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Filed under: Art, Creativity, DR Thursday, Energy | Tagged: art, art books, artistry, cleaning out, constellations, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, enegy, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, meaning, meaning making, memory, new energy, sense making, story, studio melange, the melange | 1 Comment »

Two Moons [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on October 3, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

“Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.” ~ Edgar Allan Poe, Eleonora

Looking back it makes me laugh. I advocated – more than once – with skeptical school board members that daydreaming was not only useful but a necessary activity. The inception of every worthwhile invention, every startling work of art, every passionate pursuit, begins with a daydream. An idea somewhere out-there. A student staring out the window is rarely wasting time. I wonder how much life Shakespeare or Einstein or Marie Curie spent gazing into imagination-space?

And what about the light of the moon? More than once we’ve chased the moon and stood at the shore in awe. Moonlight evokes a silent reflection. It pulls me into a different kind of imagination-space: not “out-there” but inside. “When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past…” (Sonnet 30, William Shakespeare) Things past. Memories.

Many years ago, deep into the night, I stood beside a backyard pool and gazed at the full moon. I knew my life was about to change radically. A leap. I was scared. I whispered, “I don’t know where you will lead me but I will follow you.” Recently, standing on the shore of Lake Michigan, watching Kerri snap photos of the brilliant full moon, for some reason I vividly remembered that long ago poolside moment. I smiled and whispered, “So this is where you led me!”

I couldn’t be more grateful.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE MOON

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Filed under: DR Thursday, Gratitude, Metaphor | Tagged: artistry, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, daydream, full moon, imagination, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, lack of imagination, Marie Curie, memory, moon, poe, reflection, story, studio melange, the melange, William Shakespeare | 2 Comments »

Shadow Singular [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on September 13, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

She began taking pictures of our feet when, early in our lives together, we traveled to The Netherlands, Belgium and France. The point was not to capture our feet, rather it was to record the variety of surfaces we walked upon. Cobblestones and ancient wood. Mosaic tile. The unusual and the seeming ordinary, though, when traveling, no surface is ordinary. For awhile we entertained assembling a collage of the many many surfaces were we found our feet standing. A quirky memory wall.

Adding to her series of traveling feet she began capturing our shadows. It’s now common for her to say, “Wait!” I know exactly what to do. No questions required. My job is to hold still until she snaps the latest edition to her shadow collection. I love them. To me, they are our version of the Balinese shadow puppets. Wayan Kulit. At best we are aware of the shadows we cast, the projections of our minds. Our lives a moving grand illusion.

Like the feet series, the shadow collection serves as markers of our life together. Trails we’ve hiked. Bridges we’ve crossed. Friends who entertain without question our odd request for a shadow portrait.

I just read a story about a man who tried to outrun his shadow. He was, as you might imagine, unsuccessful. It was a particularly poignant story for me since I spent many of my younger years trying to escape my shadow. I was, like the man in the story, unsuccessful. Though, unlike the man in the story, I stopped running. Some small grace whispered in my ear to stand still, to turn and look at it. To really look. To walk with it.

Isn’t it poetic that after all that time running, I now hold hands with a woman who regularly stops me on the trail, not only to look but to capture our shadow – singular – as it stretches out before us, leaning in, two people blending together as one?

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about SHADOWS

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Filed under: Gratitude, Identity, KS Friday, Love | Tagged: artistry, Balinese, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, grace, Gratitude, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, markers, memory, running away, shadow, shadow puppet, stand still, stillness, story, studio melange, the melange, Wayan Kulit | 1 Comment »

An Echo [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on August 15, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

“…repetition as a means of physically marking time, memory, loss, transformation, and ultimately, transcendence.” ~ curator’s statement for the exhibit of Idris Khan at the Milwaukee Art Museum.

Repetition. A mantra. The hours of practice of a musician. A commute to work. Ritual. We walk the same looping trail again and again, season after season. The same is never the same.

We journey to the Milwaukee Art Museum to replenish our spirits. Mostly we visit Richard, Ellsworth, and Mark. I stop by and visit Georgia and Pablo. Not knowing much about him, we were for some reason drawn to the Idris Khan exhibit. Repetition. Stacked images. Words printed on top of words. Pages of musical scores layered and changed into a powerful visual statement. Symbols iterated until garbled and transformed; I leaned in close, then stepped back, again and again, becoming part of the repetition. A dance!

Such a simple star to follow, repetition. And yet…How many letters in an alphabet? How many notes on a scale? From the limited letters or available notes – symbols repeated and mixed and matched – an infinite array of possibilities. Every page of the Quran photographed and stacked. Bach’s Six Suites for Solo Cello.

Wandering through the galleries, his work made me ponder how our inner lives are entirely symbolic. Our days stacked one upon the other. We look though the stack called our past and somehow, through the noise, believe we arrive at understanding. Meaning. An echo.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE MUSEUM

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Filed under: Art, Creativity, DR Thursday, Identity | Tagged: artistry, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, echo, Idris Khan, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, MAM, mantra, meaning, meaning making, memory, Milwaukee Art Museum, repetition, story, studio melange, the melange, time, transformation, understanding | 1 Comment »

Accept The Invitation [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on July 22, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

Master Marsh once asked me why I was compelled to run and jump off every edge I found. His question was rhetorical which was a good thing since I had no answer. I wasn’t really aware of the compulsion he was asking me to consider. I knew I was a restless soul. Most of my life I felt as if I was a suffocating man in a desperate search for air to breath. His question served to slap some consciousness into my wandering nature. His question introduced the idea that I might actually catch my breath if, instead of moving, moving, moving…, I sat down and took a breather.

Edges are invitations into the unknown.

Paintings, writing plays or this blog- any creative process – is an invitation into the unknown. To see what is as yet unseen. To open to something beyond. I’ve come to understand that opening-to-the-unknown is the essential practice of an artist. It is air-to-breathe. And the opportunity presents itself every single day, on the move or sitting still.

I thought of Master Marsh and his question the moment we stepped beyond the caution sign into the water. After so much rain the river spilled out of its banks and onto the floodplain, it overwhelmed portions of the trail. We could have turned around and returned to the car. We could have kept our feet dry. We’d walked this trail many times and could see that the water crossings were not dangerous. Calf deep with a smidge of current. And so we looked at each other, smiled a “why not” smile, and stepped.

I thought of Master Marsh and his question because this trail was known to us and, on this day, was completely unknown. We saw it again for the first time. Master Marsh is a great steward and studier of nature. His drawing of plants and trees and rivers and birds and…are first class. They’d make John Muir proud. For many years he cared for a stretch of the Calaveras River. Each day there was something new. Something previously unknown discovered.

The water crossings, I counted six of them, made us feel remote. Distant from civilization. We saw fish swim across the trail, heard sounds we’d never before encountered. The meadows exploded with color. A lone deer watched us and then disappeared like Merlin.

Edges come in many forms. On this day, it looked like water spilling over the trail. It was a welcome bonus to step beyond the sign, to spend some time in an unknown-known and have a quiet memory-walk with one of my favorite people.

read Kerri’s blogpsot about WATER ON THE TRAIL

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Filed under: Art, Awakening, Creativity, Merely A Thought Monday, Seeing | Tagged: artistry, Calaveras River, consciousness, creative process, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, des plaines river trail, Des Planes River, edges, John Muir, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, memory, memory visit, opportunity, practice, remote, soul, steward, story, studio melange, the melange, unknown | 1 Comment »

Their Zeal [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on July 10, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

This is a song of quiet astonishment, of the wonder that avails itself for a moment to those who know the full story, the origin tale of our day lilies.

To the casual observer, the everyday passer-by, the vibrant orange explosion in our yard might catch their eye. It’s hard to miss. They might experience a moment or two of fleeting appreciation as they wander on their way.

To us, the spirited line of wild marmalade blooms popping in front of our house represents the abundance that shows up in lean times. They are colorful symbols of generosity and friendship. They remind us of perseverance. They are the blossom of a memory that always makes us smile.

In the early phase of our relationship, we rolled our wheelbarrow to Sally’s house several blocks away. “If you want them, come get them!” she smiled. Her day lily and fern garden had to go away. She knew we were pinching pennies. She knew of our desire to someday have a thriving garden.

We made several trips that humid cloudy day, digging up plants, stacking them high and to the great delight of passing motorists, rolling them down the many streets to our home. Back and forth. Giggling. Covered in mud.

“Who else would do this?” we laughed.

“Where on earth are we going to put all of them?” I asked as we wheeled our barrow up the driveway for the final time. A bevy of uprooted plants stared at us, eager for an assignment, soil and water.

“Someplace,” was all she said. We had no plan beyond the wheelbarrow transport. And so, we started digging.

That was then.

A decade later our ferns and day lilies abound. They line a portion of driveway. They populate the backyard. They are the enthusiastic greeting committee in the front. I eagerly anticipate their return each spring. I am in awe of their zeal.

And…for me, they are living symbols. It is impossible for me to enjoy them without whispering a quiet thanks to Sally, to remember how it felt at the end of a humid day, covered in mud, holding hands, admiring all that we’d just planted, feeling like we’d struck gold.

read Kerri’s blogpost about DAY LILIES