Hold Space [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on March 15, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

I just realized why the stripped forest is having such an impact on me. While opening the back door to let Dogga out, my dials spun and it slapped me in the face. I am like the forest.

For several minutes, staring at the photograph, writing then rejecting, then writing and again rejecting what I’d written, I decided to get up and let Dogga out. This picture was making me anxious. Moving around has always been good for me when I’m thought-wrestling.

I am like this forest. Exposed. Chips and debris are everywhere. Water is overtaking the trees.

I was writing about a question Justin asked one night at dinner. “What’s your stance about secular Calvinism?” he asked.

“I don’t think I have one,” I replied. Justin’s eyebrows hit the ceiling and I made a snap decision not to follow my reply with an explanation. He was sorting his belief and searching his heart. Empty space was more useful than cramming my erudite-and-empty justification into the moment.

Insight requires space. Lots of space.

I wish I could express how rare it is for me to keep my mouth closed when I have a thought on a topic. Kerri will laugh aloud when I read this to her. “No joke!” she’ll say. I wanted to say to Justin, “I don’t have a stance because I think it’s a given.” His question was akin to asking about my stance on the existence of the moon. No culture sees itself clearly.

No person (me) sees himself clearly.

Chips and debris. The river has overrun its banks. One half of the photo is the result of natural forces. The other half is man-made. Choices. Circumstance and intention. This landscape, once so familiar, will never be the same.

I’ve spent my life cultivating my capacity to see pattern and metaphor. It’s an artist’s prerogative to make the strange familiar and the familiar strange. I am the forest. Familiar, yet completely unknown. Stripped for rejuvenation.

Insight requires space. Perspective requires distance. Perhaps the reason I left open space in my conversation with Justin is something I need do for myself, too. Searching my heart, I am the forest. Stripped of invasive plants I can see all the way to the river. So much space.

What is my stance? Right now, thankfully, I don’t think I have one. I’m holding the space for insight to come.

read Kerri’s blogpost THE FOREST

Filed under: Awakening, Flawed Wednesday, Identity, Metaphor, Pattern | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

Feel The Dope Slap [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on February 8, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

This morning I awoke agitated. Restless. I’m blaming my dreams. I know I had tons of dreams last night but I can’t remember a single one. I find it useful to blame my restlessness on something as slippery as an unremembered dream. It prevents any significant self-reflection or responsibility for my unease.

I just popped Rob on the head for diminishing his own work. He’s a prolific and gifted playwright and referred to his latest piece as “…another corpse being thrown on a mass grave of scripts.” After I sent the email-head-pop I admitted to myself that I was actually ALSO popping myself on the head. I used his head as a proxy. Popping other people on the head is also useful for avoiding any significant self-reflection. Although I admitted to myself that my head deserved a good slap, I successfully transferred the impact to Rob. No further self-reflection needed! I’ll wait for Rob to write me back with a return dope-slap. He’s a great friend and I deserve nothing less. Really, I deserve a good slap but I refuse to slap myself. That would require taking responsibility for my actions and my indulgent restlessness is getting in the way.

I’ve known for years that Dogga is a master teacher. Among his many lessons is contentment. And, what constitutes contentment is unique to each individual. For instance, most folks want to find a nice beach to lay on. Not Dogga! His nirvana is found in a deep pile of snow. He’s never happier than when the temperature plummets and the white stuff falls. He can linger for hours on the snowy deck in blissful satisfaction, doing nothing more than appreciating his moment. His teaching method is gentle. Unlike me, he eschews head slaps. He lives his peace, affording me the opportunity to emulate it or not.

The other thing I appreciate about Dogga’s lessons: he has absolutely no investment in how long it might take for me to learn. He is not concerned about whether or not I ever learn his lesson of contentment. His job is to make the offer. He is not concerned at all with the reception.

Perhaps the cure to what currently ails me is a few moments sitting with Dogga in the snow. I think I’ll invite Rob. It’s the least I could do after using his head to slap mine.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SNOWDOG

Filed under: Art, Creativity, Edges, Flawed Wednesday, Random | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

Avoid The Box [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on November 25, 2020 by davidrobinsoncreative

When I was in high school a significant teacher told me that I couldn’t do it all. I couldn’t paint AND be in the theatre AND write. She told me I had to choose. She told me I needed to focus. When she said the word ‘focus’ I felt like I would suffocate if I followed her advice.

One day, standing in the back of the theatre with Roger, I realized that I was bored. I needed to take my impulse to the theatre out of the building and off the stage. At the time I didn’t know what that might look like. My pals in the theatre rolled their eyes, made smallish assumptions, closed their doors to me. What I found, what I created, was thrilling. Profound.

The single consistent criticism from gallery folk of my paintings is that I am stylistically too broad. I’m all over the map. It’s true. More than once I’ve been told to come back when I know who I am. I’m not yet able to go back and, at this stage of my life, doubt that I will ever meet the criteria. I hope not.

I have made wrong turns and burned bridges. I have been my own worst enemy and my own best friend. I’ve broken things that ought not to have been broken. I’ve restored things to wholeness that others could not because I understand brokenness. I’ve run from opportunities. I’ve taken ridiculous risks. As MM asked, “What is it in you that makes you run at every edge and jump?” Fear of heights.

Makaela once told me that there was something feral in me. I thought of her the other day when I realized that DogDog was a perfect reflection of me: he can learn anything but WILL NOT walk on a leash. Try and constrain him in any way and he pulls, resists, and otherwise works to yank my arm out of the socket. I wonder how many arms I’ve yanked when I was approached with a leash? I know that once, a long time ago, I was a good teacher because I knew firsthand the power and necessity of removing constraints.

I’ve given away my best work, my best thinking. I have lived my way into utter irrelevance. The layers of the onion fall away. These days I feel more essence than substance. Pure ghost watching a world to which I have never belonged and rarely understood.

Horatio calls me a polymath to which I reply, “Back at you.” I dare anyone to try and track our conversations. The question in life that I have learned to hate the most is, “So, what do you do?”

I avoid boxes. And leashes. Apparently, that’s about the best I can do.

read Kerri’s blog post about DEFINE YOURSELF

Filed under: Art, Creativity, Emergence, Flawed Wednesday, Identity, Navel Gazing | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment »

  • visit the studio melange at kerrianddavid.com

  • The Seer available on Amazon.com

  • Lucy & The Waterfox is also available on Amazon.com