Embrace Invisibility [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

In a recent documentary about his life and work, artist Anselm Kiefer said, “Being is nothingness and nothingness is being.” He was pondering how small and insignificant we are in the scope of the infinite universe, and how, for him, our smallness relieves the stresses of having to succeed. He added, “I fail before I begin.”

The best advice I’ve received recently? Horatio’s suggestion that I go into the studio and “Paint crap.” In other words, loosen up, have fun, completely detach from outcomes. Fail before I begin. Sage counsel: paint for pure pleasure and for no other reason. Drop the measuring stick and reclaim the child who loved to paint. The other stuff will take care of itself.

We regularly check in on Martijn Doolaard. He’s reconstructing old stone buildings as his homestead in the Italian Alps. His weekly update films are gorgeous. His way of working is more so. In his own words, he focuses on process. There are goals, certainly, but everything he does, he does beautifully. He is attentive even in the most tedious of tasks, working, not to get through it, but to do it well.

Staring out the window over the kitchen sink, we switched on the backyard light so we might see the arrival of the snow. The season’s first snowfall came in the night. I thought about a post I wrote and then erased, about achieving invisibility. It wasn’t a complete thought and I wasn’t certain whether I was writing about my fear or my freedom. Anselm made an appearance in my mind as I marveled at the flurry of snow made visible by the light: Being is nothingness and nothingness is being. Embrace invisibility and dance with abandon in the fields beyond failure and success. What else?

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE FIRST SNOW

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Unwrap Them Carefully [on DR Thursday]

I give you an emptiness,/ I give you a plenitude,/ Unwrap them carefully. ~ Norman MacCraig, Presents

John O’Donohue wrote that, “Nothingness is one of the faces of death. The life of the soul is about the transfiguration of nothingness.” As we watch DogDog search and search again for his missing BabyCat, as we quietly talk each day about the empty spaces left by BabyCat’s sudden death, I am hyper-aware of the changes already happening within us.

We are gentler in the world. We spend more time sitting with DogDog, we spend more time sitting with each other. We are not afraid of the silence. In fact, we seek it. We welcome it. Sitting at the table, we watch life-at-play in the back yard. Squirrels hauling leaves for their nest. The crows on patrol. A woodpecker. Green shoots peeking through the soil. We attend the sunset.

The emptiness we inhabit has altered our relationship with time and task. We do not seek distraction or fill our minutes with news-chatter or other noises. We are moving slower with more attention, doing less and experiencing more. Washing and drying the dishes has become an act of togetherness, a generosity, like holding hands.

Tom Mck taught me that, sometimes, it is necessary to close a program or a building and let it sit empty for awhile. The emptiness will eventually attract new ideas and bring new energy. New life seeks empty spaces. Our enormous love for BabyCat has created for us a monumental emptiness. We hold it as sacred space and will, over time, unwrap it slowly, carefully, and wisely, so that the monumental soul-plenitude created by BabyCat will find its way in.

read Kerri’s blog post about AT THE DOOR

at the door ©️ 2017 david robinson & kerri sherwood

nap with dogdog & babycat ©️ 2020 david robinson