Posted on November 4, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative
One of the first paintings I did for Kerri is called Dancing In The Front Yard. From the very beginning we’ve had a natural impulse to dance. In the kitchen. On the deck. In an airport. On the trail. In the front yard.
If we break into spontaneous slow-dancing and the Dogga is near, it never fails that he joins us. Standing on his hind legs, paws on our shoulders, together we three dance our celebration of togetherness. There is nothing better on this earth.
Posted on October 28, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative
Today is one of those days. There’s not much I can add to illuminate the wisdom of the comic strip. Rest easy knowing that my brain is putty and I am off to take a nap. Somehow, “nap” floated to the tippy-top of the we-do list and I always do what’s on the list.
Posted on October 21, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative
We love to cook. We love food. We enjoy trying new recipes. We delight when we cook one of our favorite old standards. A day does not pass on the metaphoric trail that Kerri does not look at me and say, “I’m hungry. You hungry?” There’s no time for verbs when food calls.
There are a few dietary restrictions in our house so we have evolved into healthy-ish eaters. Yet, there’s another reason that we don’t keep too many sweet things in the house. I will eat them. All of them. If you want to get secret information from me, all you need do is strap me down and put a piece of flourless chocolate cake just out of reach. I’ll pretend to resist, but not for long.
Posted on October 14, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative
Mighty regrettable breath! I laughed so hard when I read this that tears came to my eyes. She didn’t back up when I laughed so I’m fairly confident that I’ve taken care of the problem. Either that or I’ve permanently damaged her sense of smell.
Note: She also ate the dip. That I didn’t write a cartoon about my point of view (smell) is why she loves ALMOST everything about me. Well, okay. She probably likes a lot of things about me. I think. I know she tolerates a very long list of eccentric character traits and quirks. All-in-all, I generally get a passing grade if I point my mighty regrettable breath downwind. And open the wine. And make the coffee.
Posted on October 12, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative
I could have sworn a famous John Singer Sargent painting featured hibiscus. He painted poppies and roses. There is his famous Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose. Google isn’t helping me very much – or, today, I have very little patience.
The truth is I want to dig out my old art books and have a full analog experience. I want to turn pages and smell the ink and the dust. It’s a cold wet day. Dark. I want to sit in my studio rocking chair and revisit the version-of-me that used to sit for hours studying the paintings of masters. I have traveled full circle. I am back to believing that I know nothing. I am a beginner again.
In Scotland, a long time ago, John Singer Sargent’s portrait of Lady Agnew stopped me in my tracks. I wasn’t prepared for what I was about to encounter. Rounding a corner I saw the portrait hanging at the end of the hall. The brushstrokes were easy and free. Get close to it and you’ll discover there is no wasted motion. The paint speaks. It’s not a large portrait yet I felt it as a gut punch. Had I not been blocking the view of others, I would have stood before it all day. I left the museum certain that I knew nothing at all.
I’ve learned to appreciate these phases of not-knowing. They are not necessarily comfortable. Yearning never is. There’s nothing like empty space in your chest and a lump in your throat to set in motion a walk toward the next horizon. What’s over there?
On the trail yesterday I re-remembered the-one-thing, the one-essential-ingredient that makes a walk toward the horizon and away from the safety-of-the-known an adventure: under no circumstances must I take myself too seriously. Do not eat the ego-illusion that my work must or will change the world. It won’t. The world does not need changing. It only needs to be experienced. And I only need to express what I find as I circle back, sharing what I discover.
Posted on October 10, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative
Eight years ago today, 10-10, at 11:11am, Kerri and I were married. Our guests teased us that our reception started at 12:12. The food truck was delayed in showing up and arrived one minute late at 1:02.
The altar was awash in daisies. Susan made daisy cupcakes. The first day I met Kerri she was holding a daisy so that I might recognize her at the airport. Daisies have been our flower ever since. She carried a bouquet of daisies as she walked down the aisle to join me.
Kerri wrote and recorded a song for me that played when I entered the church. It was a blue jeans wedding, our guests wore white shirts so we could wear our beloved black.
So many of our friends and family made food, decorated the beach house for our reception, fetched wine and coffee, built the bonfire on the beach. Kerri’s choir circled us and sang We Are Family. I like to think of our wedding as a barn-raising. My sister and niece jumped in to organize the moving pieces. So many people showed up and pitched in. Judy played her magic harp. Jim played his guitar. The ukulele band sang What A Wonderful World. Kerri and I shared words from our Roadtrip. Arnie and 20 were at my side. Kirsten and Craig stood beside Kerri.
We skipped out of the church just as we skipped out of the airport on the day we met.
Each day, every single day, I am grateful for the second chance that life brought to me. I. Am. The. Luckiest. Man. Alive.
If for a moment you doubt that this universe is generous, all you need do is think of me. Think of us.
Posted on October 7, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative
“Do you remember when you used to stand up without sound effects?” she asked. We burst out laughing at the truth of her question. A gathering of friends comparing the aches and pains of simple movement.
Kerri and I have initiated a few new roadtrip travel rules. First, we stop before the sun goes down. The days of seventeen hour long-hauls are over. Diminished night-sight made that rule necessary. Next, we stop every few hours to stretch our legs. We’ve found that if we don’t stop, the only way out of the car is to roll off the seat and crawl to the curb. Social grace and the aesthetics of aging made the stop-every-few-hours-rule essential. People at rest areas get nervous when our car door opens and I fall groaning to the ground, crawl with my elbows around the car, reach up to open Kerri’s door, and pull her moaning to the pavement.
Let’s face it. It’s not pretty. It’s always a better idea to stop while there’s still some feeling in our legs.
Posted on October 5, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative
A comment on how my brain works: I saw this photo and thought, “This is a record of a life path.” What? Where did that come from?
Note: I didn’t think “My life path.” My random reflection was in no way personal. Though, to be perfectly honest, I am only familiar with one life path and it is mine. This jumble of hose, running this way and that, lines running over and under, does vaguely resemble my movement in the world. Or a freeway interchange as seen from the air.
Note on the note: No life path is straight. Circumstance has a way of making lines into loops. Growth has a way of revealing side paths that surprisingly become main roads. Yes, I’m making the assertion that a straight life path indicates a boring-no-growth existence. It would be an excessively mean assertion except, to reiterate, no life path is straight. Loops and surprises. Forces beyond control, leading to the wild eye-and-heart-opening recognition that very little is under our control. Fantasies fall revealing a life that shimmers in its day-to-day-ness as it spirals uncontrollably through the universe.
My second thought: “This reminds me of a Jackson Pollock painting.”
Another comment on how my brain works like most other brains: Second thoughts usually make more sense than first thoughts. That’s the key to sense-making: second thoughts respond (or recoil) from the nonsense of first thoughts.
A note on first and second thoughts: It’s best not to give voice to first thoughts. Wait for the second, more sensical thought for show-and-tell. Editors are involved. You’ll have more friends that way. Also, the authorities won’t need to lock you up. So, forget what I said about life paths and selectively remember my second thought about Jackson Pollock.
Remember: I warned you. This is how my brain works.
[I wish you could see Kerri’s eye-roll as I read to her this post:-) ]
Posted on September 29, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative
If there is a metaphor for Kerri and me, it is this. A seedpod filled to bursting, ready to release into the world an abundance of the new.
We write more than most people care to read. I’ve calculated that, at this point, we’ve written the equivalent of ten full length novels. We have readers all over the globe – yesterday someone in Mongolia showed up. “Why would someone in Mongolia want to read what we write?” we asked, delighted. No matter. It’s what happens when you love what you are doing.
Yesterday, in a fit of no-duh, I reformatted the Smack-dab page on our site so it might be readable (I’m not sure what took me so long…) and I was astounded at our output. I fell into it. Smack-dab joins the comic canon of Chicken Marsala, Flawed Cartoon, At the Door, Flip, and the KnowNow series.
We love to share what we love. Sometimes I see-just-for-a-moment that our ordinary is extraordinary.
We have the third of Beaky’s books to produce. Kerri’s written a children’s book that someday she will allow me to illustrate. I have new ideas every day that get written on slips of paper and tossed in a bin called Someday.
Our Roadtrip is ready to roll and join The Lost Boy in our canon of plays performed together. I am working on a draft of a new play that I’ve been thinking about for years. I allow myself an hour of space away from the job hunt to write or work on a scene. One scene a week. I’m awaiting the decision whether or not my Last of the Old Gods will be rescheduled into the PCO season. It’s a timely story. It needs performing and I need to perform it.
Kerri stares at her piano. There is so much more music to make. I know it. She knows it. I can personally attest to the fact that some of her best vocal pieces have yet to be recorded. I am the sole recipient of such riches.
Each day I stand in my studio and close my eyes and feel the pulse. There are so many more paintings to paint.
Years ago, Joyce, staring wide-eyed into my future, said to me: You express what is true. You reach people through their hearts. You help them to believe.
It’s not a career. It’s an imperative. Seedpods. Ready to burst.
Posted on September 2, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative
And isn’t the true wealth of life about the extraordinary people that walk the path with you? I am, every day, astonished by my good fortune, especially by this woman who chooses to walk this life with me. In this measure, I am unbelievably rich.
The Direction of Intention 