Generous Blossom [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

We took a walk to clear our heads. There, on an embankment adjacent to the trail, were daffodils in full bloom. The yellow was shocking. They were so vibrant that they stopped us in our tracks.

They were so unexpected that they tossed us out of our dilemma-of-the-day and infused us with their quiet hope. We didn’t stay for long but we did take their inspiration home with us.

Such a small thing. Such a generous and timely blossom.

read Kerri’s blogpost about DAFFODILS

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Come Down And Look [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

“There is love enough in this world for everybody, if people will just look.” ~ Kurt Vonnegut

There is another, a quote from the Gospel of Thomas: “The kingdom of heaven is spread out over the earth and people do not see it.” If people will just look.

Love. Heaven. Two words that carry the same meaning.

Years ago I understood (finally) that anything that calls itself spiritual but separates is man-made. It’s become a rule of thumb. It’s common sense. Unity, that which transcends boundaries and rules and fears and distinctions, is the aim. Poetry will get you there. A sunset. The quiet of a snowfall. Someone holding your hand.

I regularly disappear from time and space and enter something bigger when I paint. It’s the reason why I paint. When Kerri and I hike a trail I often leave my troubles and little mind behind. The birdsong takes me, the hawk that hovers, the wind through the cattails, the frog chorus, the buds pressing forth from the tree limbs. “I” am just passing through.

During our latest midnight conversation, she said, “I realized that I am not all-that.” Followed by, “When you understand that you are not all-that, you finally get out of the cage.” She is wise. It’s hard to try and be what you are not. Separate. Above. Better than. From such a lofty ego, the most important things are missed. Unity. Love. Heaven on earth. If people (like me) will just come down and look.

read Kerri’s blogpost about HEART

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Trouble Maker [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

“The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive.” ~ Pearl S. Buck

“What did you take a picture of?” he said enthusiastically, crossing our path on the trail!

“The cattails,” she answered, showing the stranger her photograph. “They’re glowing!”

“Ah! You’re seeing! Most people walk these trails to get through them. Very few people are curious enough to learn. It’s only when you see that you can learn. It’s only when you learn that you can see!”

His name was George. I couldn’t place his accent. We guessed his age to be near 80 though he was more spry and alive than people half his age. Pulling up his AllTrails app, he shared stories of the local trails that he’d walked. “This one is gorgeous!” he exclaimed.

As we parted he turned and shouted, “Remember, you’ll never get in trouble if you are learning! Only ignorance will get you into trouble!”

And odd parting sentiment. An apt parting sentiment for our times. I wondered if we just had a happy visitation from a wizard. A forest sprite. A wise hermit.

For the rest of our walk I thought about his parting sentiment. Trouble. John Lewis said, “Get in good trouble.” There is a kind of trouble that only comes when you see – when you learn. Artists and academics, seekers of truth, are problematic for authoritarians and bullies. Seeing – truth – learning – is problematic for purveyors of lies and promoters of ignorance. John Lewis got into plenty of good trouble in his life and our lives are better for it.

Kerri and I both have been branded “troublemakers” at various points in our lives. We are too sensitive, some have said,”… too sensitive for our own good.” We have artist natures. As premises go, George’s parting comment is accurate: ignorance always leads to a whole bunch of trouble. Ignorance is loud and, these days, wears a red hat.

It is equally as accurate that learning, calling out ignorance, speaking quiet truth, brings its own brand of trouble. Good trouble. The kind of trouble that actually makes people’s lives better.

read Kerri’s blogpost about TROUBLEMAKER

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Look Closely [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Look closely.

The turkeys slept in the neighbor’s tree. All night. Only two. The third turkey was last seen gobbling at the end of the street. In the dim grey light of morning, while the coffee brewed, I checked the tree. They were still there, very large birds perched on too skinny branches. How do they do that?

Look closely.

“It looks like a heart!” she said, reaching for her camera. Dogga was fast asleep, paws twitching. I wondered what he chased in his dreams. She sees hearts everywhere. Most of us, myself included, walk through life and miss the hearts. She seeks them. Or they seek her. She never fails to stop and admire the heart, capture its portrait, breathe in its affirmation. “Can you believe it!” she exclaims, as if this heart, one of thousands, is the very first she’s found.

Look closely.

The memory was visceral. I’m doing the push-hands exercise for the first time. I am a beginner and my partner in the push-hands has practiced tai-chi for years. I am struggling with such a simple exercise. All I need do is let go and feel. My mind wants to control. To achieve. To win. Saul is standing behind me and I can sense his amusement. My partner joins Saul’s delight. A grin breaks the surface of his neutrality. Both burst into laughter. I am suddenly surrounded by laughter and, although confused, I laugh, too. The entire group breaks down, howling. The laughter is infectious. Cleansing. My belly hurts from laughing.

“I think he’s ready now,” Saul says to the group, wiping tears from his eyes.

read Kerri’s blogpost about LOOKING CLOSE

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buymeacoffee is a close-in-look, an opportunity for amazement at the ripples we send.

Life Spilling Out [David’s blog on KS Friday]

If this beautiful winter skeleton of Queen Anne’s Lace was a sculpture – my sculpture – it would be titled The Impossibility of Containment. Trying to hold on to the magic movement of life. It spills out in every direction.

I once had an espresso martini in Aspen, Colorado. It was the single best drink I’ve ever had. It was so good I did something I never do: I had two. I savored every sip. Occasionally since then, in other watering holes on earth that offer a drink by the same name, I’ve tried to replicate the past. To no avail. The bar in Aspen no longer exists so, like a good sand painting, my espresso martini revelry lives where it belongs, on the wind and in my yearning.

This week I completed another trip around the sun. I look in the mirror and am sometimes surprised by the face that stares back at me. My eyes remain consistent, yet what my eyes are capable of now seeing has changed dramatically. Although I occasionally yearn for my younger face, I would never exchange my current eyes for my former sight.

I see possibility spilling out in every direction. Simplicity. I see extraordinary friends all around. Each morning I open my eyes to the one face that fills my heart to bursting. I am, as Nietzsche suggests, loving my fate. Every pothole, every mountain-to-climb, every seeming obstacle, every frustration, a magic moment, a heart-seed leading to who-knows-where. Life spilling out in every direction.

I’m practicing the skill of opening wide my arms, welcoming the impossibility of containment.

Sweet Ballet/Released From The Heart © 1995 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about QA LACE

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buymeacoffee is a possibility cast onto the winds of time.

See The Third [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Rules of composition are really a study of human perception. It’s not the work of art that’s being examined, it’s the human being. Why do we consistently – universally – respond positively to visual compositions that follow the rule of thirds? Divide a composition into thirds, either vertically or horizontally, and then place focal areas of the “scene” at the meeting points of the lines. A professor in art and design school teaches the rule as a basic tenet, not because it was a concept that was invented but because someone, somewhere in time, noticed that people generally like their paintings, photographs, murals, quilts, architecture… when the focal point lands on one of the thirds. It was a discovery about the nature of people. Human nature.

Even the most abstract painters adhere to the rule of thirds. There is structure beneath seeming chaos.

There is something about humans and the number 3. The structure of a joke has three parts – the set-up, the detail, and the punchline. Most religions sport a trinity: father, son, and holy ghost. Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva. Buckminster Fuller’s Geodesic Dome is a festival of three. Pay attention and the rule of thirds pops up in everything from brain science to marketing messages. Triangulate and even the most lost hiker will be found.

When I first met Kerri I was disconcerted. Her compositional eye is infinitely better than mine. How could this musician come into my studio, snap a photo of my work-in-progress, and show me that her cropped version of my composition was infinitely better? What the heck? Her crops were never radical; simple adjustments merely. After I recognized how natural yet specific her eye sees the thirds – while I am clumsy in my seeing – in a fit of re-composing, I almost took a saw and scissors to my paintings. It was so obvious. Now, I ask her early and often to come into the studio and tell me what she sees (Imagine my horror when she stands silently for several moments and finally utters, “Well…”).

On the trail she stops often to “take a picture.” I play a game with myself. I look at where she aims her camera and then I predict where the focal point will land. Which third will claim the prize? I am almost never right but always delighted by what she shows me. “Lookit!” she says, smiling. A perfect third. Naturally.

prayer, 9″ x 24″ acrylic on hardboard

read Kerri’s blogpost about LACE AND SNOW

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buymeacoffee is not a third. It is something else.

Work Forward And Back [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Writing the first draft of a play, I’ve just entered the “swimming upstream” step in the process. I’m working my way from back-to-front to make sure all the story dots connect. It’s detail work. It requires looking close-in. I used to hate this part of the process because I’d get lost. I’d forget what I was doing and prematurely rework sections. Painters ruin paintings when working too small too soon. Writers are subject to the same peril. Now, I adore this step. Life is funny.

A few years ago I realized that my change in process-love, my capacity to work in detail without getting lost, came when I stopped trying to race to the end. Now, I am in no hurry to finish. I want a full relationship with my story as it reveals itself to me. It is a child, holding my hand, guiding me to the wonders of the playground.

Working forward. Working backward. Stepping in and then stepping away, like the tides. Big brush washes first, attending to the overall composition. Structure. And then detail. It’s much like building a house. Foundations and then finishes.

I have learned from watching Kerri to use my camera to see detail. To step in and look. Seeing-as-a-relationship. To pay attention to the dew on the small pine, the reason it glistens. And then to step in further. The platitude: a single drop of dew contains an entire world. Beyond the platitude: step in and it’s possible to fall into another world. To experience the surprise available in the enormity of the minute. And bring back to the big, big world of hurry-here-hurry-there the astonishment that is found there.

Forward Back, 18 x 36IN, mixed media on canvas

read Kerri’s blogpost about DEW

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buymeacoffee is a dew drop in a sea of possibilities, a tiny window into the realities of another reality.

See More. Know Less [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

“(What makes his world so hard to see clearly is not its strangeness but its usualness). Familiarity can blind you too.” Robert Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Red and green. Oppositional on the color wheel yet understood as compliments. They set each other alight.

I am certain the longer I walk this life the less I know. How much time did I spend trying to get-there-fast? How much life did I give to my attempt to attain the mountaintop before I realized that there wasn’t one? How much hubris did I exude believing “my” work might change the world before I was humbled sufficiently to see that the world was changing me? Is there such a thing as “my” work? I have lived a life rich in collaboration. Who hasn’t?

And, how fortunate am I that life has routinely tossed me out of my “comfort” zone? Don’t get me wrong, I would appreciate a bit of smooth sailing with ample provisions but the ongoing absence of “normal” makes eyes-wide-open a necessity. There is no missing how interdependent we are, how utterly interconnected, when here-and-now is the only place we can clearly see.

read Kerri’s blogpost about RED AND GREEN

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buymeacoffee is. nothing more. nothing less

Look Closer [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

It is not in my nature to look closely. I more easily jump into the sky and see clearly the lay of the land. It’s why I am drawn to metaphor and appreciate the universal stories. It’s what made me useless as a consultant: no one really wants to know where they are going or what icebergs lurk over the horizon. They particularly resent it when you tell them that the big horse is filled with Greek warriors. Ask Cassandra!

Detail, on the other hand, has been an acquired skill that I am and will be forever acquiring. Kerri is a master teacher. Detail is her forte’.

What I am learning at this phase of my life: the real riches come in tiny packages. The miracle of a snowflake. Holding hands. 20’s laughter. The sound of crunching leaves. A hope held close. Savoring the broth. A gesture of kindness, like a smile or holding open a door. Expressing appreciation to the bus driver or the wait staff. Sitting still inside a poem to fully taste the sound of words.

Paying attention. I know I write about this often. It’s a part of the learning…

Of course, the tiny doors (a closer look) always open on infinite passageways so there remains great worth in jumping into the sky to see how vast is the landscape of the heart. Both/And. Beautiful either way.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SNOWFLAKE

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buymeacoffee is a snowflake of infinite possibilities if you choose to see it.

Hope Is Like That [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

A project has me spending some quality time inside Thornton Wilder’s play, Our Town. Grover’s Corners. Emily, after her death, takes the opportunity to revisit a day in her life. It’s not what she expects. Returning to her grave on the hillside she says of the living to Mother Gibbs, “They don’t understand, do they?”

“No, dear. They don’t understand.”

She learns, as another character in the graveyard, Simon Stimson, says, “Now you know! That’s what it was to be alive. To move about in a cloud of ignorance; to go up and down trampling on the feelings of those…of those about you. To spend and waste time as though you had a million years. To be always at the mercy of one self-centered passion, or another.”

I thought about Emily and Simon Stimson as we walked with Dogga along my favorite stretch of the DesPlaines River Trail. It’s an eight mile out-and-back section. Deer. Heron. Sandhill cranes. Hawks. It passes through meadow and grove, the river snaking close and moving away.

The day was brisk and clear. When we came to the small land bridge, Dogga’s delight filled me with delight. We always stop at the bridge to look for turtles and frogs. This late in the year it is unlikely to find them but we stop anyway. Hope is like that.

And, just for a moment, I stepped out of my cloud of ignorance. Kerri, holding Dogga’s leash, peering with great expectation into the trickling stream. “Do you see anything?” she asked. So overwhelmed at the beauty of it all, I could say nothing.

Had I been able to speak I would have said, “I can see everything.”

For a fleeting moment…

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE CREEK

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buymeacoffee is a moment in time begging you not to miss it. that’s all. that’s enough.