What It’s Made Of [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

I had to ask. What is a Peep made of? The main ingredient is sugar (no surprise). Corn syrup is the second ingredient and I read it provides sweetness and texture. Evidently there’s a lack of sweetness with so much sugar so corn syrup takes up the slack. Rounding out the top three ingredients is gelatin which gives the peep its bunny and baby chick shape. There’s wax for coating and potassium sorbate for freshness preservation. The Peep-particuilar color is due to food dye.

I am not a fan of Peeps but Beaky loved them. I am a fan of peanut M&M’s and therefore I refuse to read the ingredients. I don’t want to know.

Yesterday I wrote a harsh post about the willful blindness of the republican congress. And lest I leave the plank in my own eye while removing the speck from the peeper of congress, I thought I’d better confess my willful ignorance of the innards of an M&M. Where snacks are concerned I am quite capable of looking the other way. I don’t think I could or would consciously look the other way as the-arsonist-in-chief sets fire to the Constitution and burns down the nation. It’s one thing to eat a Peep in blissful ignorance. It’s another thing to knowingly consume the lies of a monster and enjoy it.

It is Easter season, the celebration of new life. The return of spring. The egg is an ancient symbol of new life so we dye them and hide them and delight in the hunt by children to find them. It is a ritual of renewal. A basket full of colorful hope. It is the season that Peeps and pastel candies rise in prominence in the grocery store. In my Easter egg hunt I am looking high and low for the resurrection of integrity, the adoration of humanity in all its wild and beautiful colors, the rebirth (or perhaps the first birth) of a fearless diverse nation unafraid of its history and dedicated to vibrant inclusivity. It is, after all – and in truth – what our nation is made of.

read Kerri’s blogpost about PEEPS.

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Conscience Totems [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

In a roiling stream of consciousness, the limbs at sunset evoked a memory of watching a master of ink and brush, a fluid stroke, a guided hand that for some reason pitched me into Robert Motherwell. I scrolled through selections of his work and was taken by how many of his pieces are direct descendants of Henri Matisse. I was taken by how many times he returned to a theme Elegy To The Spanish Republic. The atrocities of war.

We heard the phrase “conscious avoidance” but thought we heard “conscience avoidance”. The confusion was fantastic! If I someday paint a series of pieces about the un-United States during these authoritarian years I will name the series Conscience Avoidance. Pam Bondi refusing to look at the Epstein survivors. The republican congress emasculating itself, refusing to deal with the obvious truth. The conservative members of the Supreme Court refusing to look at the Constitution. The Constitution stares, mouth agape, at the justices who try not to look at it. My massive canvases will be pocked with oppressive black strokes. Soul holes. Void.

There will, of course, be a parallel series. Conscience Totems. An homage to the people who take to the streets. Keepers of the promise and the light. Bright swaths of vibrant color evoking guide stars and torches and courage. The fluid strokes mimicking a master of ink and brush, a hand guided by something grander than self-serving-money-lust or personal-political-gain. The living branches of a tree reaching one to the other, interlaced and interconnected, reflective of their roots, drinking deeply from the earth so it might touch the sky. A celebration of those unafraid to look power in the eye and ask, “What happened to you?”

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE TREE SILHOUETTE

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