Color It Vivid [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on October 3, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

These two beauties are Black Swallowtail butterflies in the making. Caterpillars that look as if some artist applied yellow and green paint pens, decorating their black bodies with line and dot. The pop of vibrant color drew our eyes and brought us to our knees to investigate. “Unbelievable!”

I felt the same way the day we saw the orchids at The Chicago Botanic Gardens. The shock and variance of vivid color challenged my dedication to the notion that mother earth paints exclusively in earth tones. She does not. Her palette extends from neon to neutral, her color combinations are as enthusiastic as they are subtle.

I am aware that the further I walk down this life-road, the more I see – or am able to see – the feisty mix of color calling from the hummingbird and cardinal, the caterpillar and coneflower, the sunset and sea foam. I know they’ve always been there. I’ve always appreciated them in a passing way. Now, they catch me in their color-nets and hold me captive. My eyes are willing prisoners. “Unbelievable,” is my patent sigh and I find myself grateful beyond words that I have access to a world that spins color beyond my tiny expectation, my limited belief.

read Kerri’s blogpost on COLORFUL CATERPILLARS

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Lead With The Heart [on KS Friday]

Posted on August 4, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

Do you remember The Little Prince? “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; that which is essential is invisible to the eye.” ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.

What about this one: “The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched – they must be felt with the heart.” ~ Helen Keller

Two extraordinary people sharing the same sentiment.

One more from Mary Oliver: “Every morning I walk around this pond, thinking: if the doors of my heart ever close I am as good as dead.”

What is this business with the heart? Seeing the essential. Feeling the best and most beautiful. Vital life an open door of the heart.

It is a simple message that reaches back through Aeschylus and Confucius, it reaches beyond the invention of the written word. You’ll find it scratched in glyphs. It’s a message older than any religion or spiritual tradition yet weaves its way through all of them. Lead with your heart.

I am a student of metaphor and pattern and can say this with absolute certainty: beneath the hoohah of our angry times is a simple enduring pattern, an appeal from wise voices ringing across the ages and cutting across cultures. A single metaphor: seeing rightly has nothing to do with our eyes. To be human is to lead with our hearts. Closing our hearts to one another might seem righteous but leaves us as good as dead.

[Now that I’m finished moralizing for the day, I think I’ll take a slow walk around our tiny pond, close my eyes, feel the sun, and revel in this day of being alive.]

slow dance/as sure as the sun © 2002 kerri sherwood

…and a bonus!

same sweet love/as sure as the sun © 2002 kerri sherwood

Close your eyes and you’ll see that these tracks have nothing to do with Jazz. Open your eyes and you’ll note that Rumblefish has absolutely no ownership right or copyright to these songs though they somehow possess a ridiculous capacity to misrepresent Kerri and her music.

Kerri’s albums can be found on iTunes or streaming on Pandora and iHeart Radio

read Kerri’s blogpost about HEART LEAF

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Learn The Language of Color [on DR Thursday]

Posted on June 22, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

Earlier this week I wrote of DeMarcus’ notes on color made when he was a first year art student. I flipped through the fading pages before placing the notebook back on my shelf and lingered on these gems:

“If we wish to create we must learn the Language of Color.”

“Color stands for JOY in this world of seeing.”

“Through the language of COLOR, we add JOY to the world of seeing.”

His notes are from a lecture. In my mind I see some fantastic art teacher, a life teacher, standing before a class of enthusiastic hearts that included the young DeMarcus, infusing them with a purpose that demanded they pay attention to others, to their reason for creating. Bring joy. Through the language of color, speak to a world that doesn’t know how to see. Speak to a world desperately in need of Joy. Color theory as community tending. Igniting the idea in the students, the teacher then set them free to explore how, through color, to bring joy to the world. The lesson was simultaneously both practical and existential.

I wish I knew the name of DeMarcus’ instructor. I’d send a deep debt of gratitude into the universe.

It is profoundly easy to diminish the role of artists in our culture. Note the dearth of art programs in schools. The emaciated National Endowment for the Arts relative to other budget lines. What might be more important in our times than artists striving to weave togetherness through the language of color? What might be more necessary than opening eyes to see beyond grey assumptions? We diminish ourselves when we devalue our art.

I knew DeMarcus when he was in his 90’s. Those early lessons still twinkled in his eyes. Or, perhaps, a lifetime of speaking the language of color, a lifetime of offering the joy of seeing, brought a permanent twinkle to his eye . He understood artistry as more than indulgent self-expression. He understood – and helped me understand – that artistry came with a responsibility to others as well as to the self. Service. See, in order to help others see, through the language of color, joy.

prayer of opposites, 48x48IN, acrylic on panel © 2006

my-as-yet-still-unfinished-site [I hope you’re not holding your breath]

read Kerri’s blogpost on COLOR

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Look At Them Now [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on May 31, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

Kerri hit the nail on the head. “Most people wouldn’t do this,” she said. “They’d think it was the same. They’d be bored” True. Too true.

She made her observation while we were walking our usual trail. We don’t walk it everyday but often enough to call it “ours” or “the usual.” Although we walk the same trail, to us it is never the same. Never. For instance, a few days ago the Mayapples bloomed. A single white flower hides beneath the leafy canopy. Last week we checked but the flowers hadn’t yet appeared. They’ll be gone by Father’s Day, the flower and the plant, just as the mystery cowboy told us. Walk the same path long enough and you’re likely to converse with a mystery cowboy.

It’s an exercise in seeing. Or, perhaps, it’s an exercise in not taking the surrounding world for granted. It is constantly moving. Dynamic. A crane flew right over our heads! The turtles are barely visible buried in the mud of the river. Tender green shoots broke through the devastated landscape and now, only a few weeks later, a blanket of vibrant viridian covers the forest floor. Tiny purple and blue flowers soon followed. The honeysuckle have now made an appearance. The thunderous frog song has all but disappeared.

And then there is the light. Dear god, the light. The colors shape-shift as the sun moves across the sky. The cloudy days evoke entirely different tones. There’ a reason filmmakers call the impending sunset “golden hour.” The winter palette is a world away from the summer hues.

We hold hands. We walk slow enough to see, slow enough to immerse. Slow enough to give our attention to the unique-within-the-same. Each day uncommon. Seeing it is a practice of challenging the assumption of “sameness.”

The practice of the trail has become the practice of our lives – or vice versa. Move slow enough to see. Pay attention. Give attention.

Across the yard from the farmhouse porch stand two guardian trees. “Look!” she exclaimed, running to show me the latest photo. “They’re so amazing,” she said, showing me the growing series. “They’re entirely different in the morning than they are in this light…” she said, turning her focus and camera back to the trees. “Geez! Look at them now!”

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE TREES

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Read It [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

Posted on May 6, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

I can’t complain. I had perfect eyesight for most of my life. And then I didn’t.

I wear glasses to drive at night. The first time I put them on I was astounded, not because I could see but because I was so completely unaware of how I’d adapted to not seeing. With my new glasses firmly hosted on my nose, I proudly read aloud every road sign until Kerri said, “Stop,” in that quiet voice that let me know I was skating-on-thin-ice.

It’s the ends of the visual-pole that go blurry. Very far. Very near. Grocery shopping is a riot. We do all kinds of contorting trying to read labels. “I’m going to take this can to the end of the aisle where the light is better,” she says.

“Wait. You’re supposed to read the labels?” I ask, just to get a rise out of her, adding, ‘I’d help you read-the-can but my eyes are crap. Can’t see a thing.”

And then, there are menus. We’re not yet at the large-print-stage of life but, let’s face it: although blurry, we can see it from here.

read Kerri’s blogpost about READERS

smack-dab. © 2023 kerrianddavid.com

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Just Look [on DR Thursday]

Posted on April 27, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

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

There’s really no reason Breck should be alive. This tiny aspen tree survived a too-packed-car ride from Colorado to Wisconsin, three years root bound in clay pot, a first bad planting among the ferns, a relocation to a better spot, and a serious pruning to clear the already dead branches. Yet, despite all the odds stacked against her, Breck is budding like never before. Breck is thriving.

My theory for Breck’s resilience? She knows she is loved. Never before in the annals of tree-dom has more warmth and attention been heaped upon a tiny living thing. Consequently, each bud feels like a full-circle-love-return. Each new bud fills us with hope, infuses us with possibility.

It is simple.

It’s been a few days since Kerri snapped the photo of Breck’s buds. This morning, while I was out with Dogga on my bunny watch, I was literally gobsmacked: the buds have burst into tender leaves! When did that happen? It’s worth noting that the bunny nest is in the tall grasses at the base of Breck’s trunk. I’ve been paying attention, or so I thought. I’m double-in-wonder at the sudden transformation from bud to leaf.

Paying attention. Seeing what is right in front of our noses.

As I sat on the deck and watched Dogga sleuth the bunny pathways through the yard, I wondered about all the buds-a-poppin’ that I have missed in my life, so focused on, “what I didn’t have,” or lost in the weeds of, “should.” I thought again of the closing sequence of the movie Love Actually. [Hugh Grant voice-over]: Love actually…is…all around us. It’s so pervasive that we miss it.

If only people – myself included – would just look.

Embrace Now, 36x48IN, mixed media

read Kerri’s blogpost about BRECK’S BUDS

Embrace Now © 2016 david robinson

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The Heart Of The Matter [on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on April 24, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

“Well, there goes wine and coffee…” I thought when I read the headline. At 100 Years Old, I’m ‘The Oldest Living Doctor’ – 5 Things I Never Do To Live A Long, Happy Life. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The good doctor’s advice is sound, simple, and sans finger-wagging.

Several months ago, Dwight started an important ongoing conversation: how do we live well this chapter of our lives? I recently read a quote (that I can’t re-find) that suggests we grow old-in-our-minds because we stop being curious about life and living. The quote speaks to the good doctor’s first Never Do: I don’t spend my days retired. His fifth Never Do is an extension of the first: I don’t let my knowledge go to waste. Bookends, encouraging us to stoke the fires of curiosity and to share abundantly our gifts.

Ann used to say, “Find a need and fill it,” and I suspect her good advice knows no age limit. Margaret, one of my great unconfessed inspirations in this world, makes quilts, makes meals, makes smiles.

Since our dinner with Dwight I’ve been paying attention to the many guides that populate my path. I am surrounded by people either approaching or older than the ‘age of retirement” who are younger at heart than most of the 30-somethings I know. They are fully following their star. Horatio is writing scripts and books and making movies, making art, and has an “ever-growing ” idea pile I call his “mountain of amazing things to explore”. Judy is painting and writing more beautifully now than ever, Rebecca is boldly leading people to simplicity, Master Marsh tends a section of the Calaveras River, plays music, and makes trouble. To be clear: they are not “striving to achieve” – a concept-distinction that Dwight has me pondering – they are engaged with life. They are rooting around on their heart path. Each is finding a need in others and filling it. My list of “those-who-inspire” could go on and on.

A moment ago my thoughts turned to H. He visited me in a dream last night. If ever there was a model for how to thrive in the last chapter, it is H. He sang with his barbershop quartet, was a lively presence in Kerri’s choir and famously rapped a song, encrusted in bling, at age 89. His enormous car filled two parking spaces and after expertly landing his machine between the lines, he’d pop the trunk and retrieve his walker. I learned early on not to ask if he needed any help. The answer is “no.” He died in his middle-90’s, boldly making a mess of new technology, stomping around in this strange new world.

All are embracing the good doctor’s 4th Never Do: I don’t restrict myself. It seems to me that all of the good doctor’s rules are encapsulated in #4: it is the heart of the matter.

read Kerri’s blogpost about 5 THINGS

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Look In [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on March 22, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

“I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you can see all kinds of things you can’t see from the center.” ~Kurt Vonnegut

Yesterday I applied for a job that is all about narratives told from the edges of society. I’m not sure why it surprised me to find such a cool-to-me job; our community seems addicted to shattering so there are plenty of small edges to be found. Small edges are fallacious and serve a myriad of false centers. Our survival will depend upon whether or not we can awaken from the shatter-narrative and make the decision to direct our broken focus toward a common center. No small feat.

It is the role of the shaman, the explorer, the artist, the researcher to stand on the edge and report back to the community what is seen and unseen. The voice from the edge is rarely welcome since the report is capable of popping delusions or pulling the sheep’s clothing from the wolf. Page one of the autocrats’ handbook instructs the elimination of artists and educators. Making an enemy of the eyes-that-see, demonizing educators and thinkers – the people who recognize pattern and metaphor. The game of Us-and-Them necessitates silencing the voices capable of calling out the wolf. Autocrats require blind sheep that follow without question.

Some famous edge sitters: Galileo. Cesar Chavez. Rosa Parks. Nelson Mandela. Susan B. Anthony. Albert Einstein. Frederick Douglass, a former slave and leader of the abolitionist movement, wrote extensively about what we call Critical Race Theory; it was clear in his view from the edge. It’s not a new theory. It’s an old pattern with a new name. I think he might denounce his Republican party affiliation were he alive today; they would certainly silence his voice. He would be fired were he a professor in Florida today. As would Martin Luther King, another famous voice from the edge.

Voices of reason are often voices from the edges. Voices of the future are always voices from the edges. Galileo was silenced for suggesting that the earth circled the sun and not the other way around. Over time, the voices from the edge, when authentic, always make the center better, the community stronger. Susan B. Anthony spent her life on the edge, lobbying the center, to secure for women the right to vote.

Progress. Growth. They are rarely inspired from the tight grip at the center. Silence the edges and the community atrophies. Stop the movement and the body dies. That page was left out of the autocrats’ handbook for obvious reasons.

read Kerri’s blogpost about EDGES

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Visit An Old Friend [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

Posted on March 11, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

We often walk the same trail. You’d think we’d get bored but we like to see how it changes through different seasons and at different times of the day. It’s never the same. It’s like an old friend.

In the same way, on our way home, we stop and visit a tree in a farmer’s field. It stands in isolation, alluring on the horizon. It is both the same and never the same. A guardian in the fog. The geese land in the surrounding field and gather close to its protective arms. It is an ancient beacon in the cold icy snow. It’s silhouette at sunset has moved me to tears. We have a relationship with it. It’s like an old friend.

Our old friends remind us to open our eyes. To pay attention. To make no assumptions. They are never the same and, I suppose, the same is true of us, too. A different season. A different time of day. Through cold and sun, fog and rain, if we stop to see or slow down enough to notice, time reveals us as we are. Ever-changing. Beautiful.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE TREE

smack-dab. © 2023 kerrianddavid.com

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“LookIt!” [on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on February 28, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

Two Artists Haiku

What is in a chip?

Form and meaning see a heart,

Loving reminder.

Kerri sees them everywhere. It’s a seeing-sense that I appreciate: moving through the world finding hearts. Another trait that I appreciate? When she see’s the heart, she stops. She takes time with it. Sometimes she takes a photograph. Sometimes she simply attends to the uncanny heart, taking it into her being. A message or affirmation. “LookIt!” she exclaims as if this heart-find is the first time.

It happens often. Daily.

Sometimes I wonder: is she finding the hearts or are the hearts finding her? “LookIt!” the heart exclaims.

Either way, it’s not a bad way of moving through the world.

read Kerri’s blogpost about HEART

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