Where It Ends [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Today is the day when hoaxsters and jokesters and pranksters abound. It’s the unofficial-official national day of the trickster.

Historically on this day it’s best to doubt everything that you are told, to check the sources of your information. To join in the joking and let off some steam with a bit of harmless mischief.

It’s much harder in this day-and-age since everyday is April fools day! The mischief is not harmless. With so many dedicated conspiracy theorists running amok, shysters selling bibles, serial liars celebrated, vapid minds taken seriously, it’s difficult to tell where the fool’s day begins and where it ends. It’s tough to know where the fools begin and where they end.

So, on this day as on all others, it’s a best practice to doubt everything that you are told [as a rule of thumb, it’s not a bad practice everyday to doubt everything that you think!], to religiously check the sources of your information and to check the sources of information promoted as religious.

Fools and tricksters are meant to make us open our eyes; to step back and take ourselves less seriously. To help us discern between the sacred and the profane. They are meant to shock the system when the system begins to believe that it’s “all that.” They are meant to help us laugh at ourselves.

Play safe out there. Have fun. It is my deepest wish that we might lighten up ever so slightly and learn to chuckle at our foibles. I know, I know…pie in the sky. First we must learn to distinguish between a foible and a strength, a truth and a lie, a joke and a virtue, an ignoramus and a learner, propaganda and news.

Until then, we are all destined to be April’s fools.

read Kerri’s blogpost about FOOLS

[Christopher Wool’s painting, Fool, at the Milwaukee Art Museum]

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Pull The Thorns [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Matthew and Rumi agree: “You hypocrite! First take the beam out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.”

 The Buddha is purported to have said: “The faults of others are easier to see than one’s own.”

The message is ubiquitous. The teaching is universal. If you wish to wander in the fields of flowers, pull the thorns from your heart. And, like all simple truths, it’s easier said than done.

History is riddled with the greatest persecutors loudly proclaiming themselves victims. It’s a pattern. Sometimes the odor of hypocrisy is faint. Sometimes it stinks to high heaven. Currently, we are watching this age old drama play out on our political stage. No-self-awareness. Not-an-iota-of-personal-responsibility.

It’s worthy of Aeschylus. It’s a theme that runs through the greatest works of Shakespeare. Othello. Hamlet. MacBeth. Lear. Tortured thorny hearts with split intentions. It’s ever-present because it’s a bear-topic that every human has wrangled. Psychologists call it “projection.”

There is no path to inner peace that does not begin with dedicated self-reflection, self-revelation, and a subsequent healthy course of eye-beam-removal. A good honest look at the thorns carried within the heart before the plucking. What’s true of an individual is also true of a community.

And, if we are lucky and brave and honest, “…at length, truth will out.” A good test of truth is the flood of peace that ensues. A wander through the fields of flowers.

read Kerri’s blogpost about PULLING THORNS

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A New Day [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

A new day.

Sometimes it takes a storm blowing through to make you realize what has value and what does not. The tornado takes the house, scatters the possessions, but the family is safe. No one is harmed. The wind takes the clutter and leaves a certain clarity.

I once knew an accomplished artist who lost his life’s work in a house fire. What I assumed would be tragic, for him was an opportunity: “I’m alive,” he said, elated. “Now I have a completely clean slate and can discover my work all over again.”

The storm comes. The veil falls. The Great and Powerful Oz is nothing more than a man with levers and illusions of grandeur hiding his real face behind a curtain. Dorothy suddenly knows without doubt what is true and what is fabrication. It’s quietly liberating.

She watches The Great and Powerful drift away in his hot air balloon and clumsy illusion. Dorothy realizes that no one can give her what she already possesses, an integrity of purpose, a vibrant spirit, surrounded by honest people who love her in a place she calls “home.”

A new day.

Nap with DogDog & BabyCat, 36″x48″, mixed media

read Kerri’s blogpost about A NEW DAY

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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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Stand Out [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Yesterday, in our basement reorganization shuffle, I moved my paintings. It is not a small task to move the remains of a life’s work. At this point, I’ve moved them hundreds of times: between studios, into and out of shows, within a studio space to make more space. Paintings take up a lot of space. Besides my clothes, my unsold paintings have been the extent of my possessions most of my adult life. During this latest painting-location-change I realized what an oddity I must sometimes seem. It sparked some random recall and minor revelation.

It’s not always easy to be a sore thumb, the one one that sticks out; the one doing life a bit differently than the expected norm. The lone tree in a vast field.

I read this quote this morning from Robert Pirsig‘s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: “Schools teach you to imitate. If you don’t imitate what the teacher wants you get a bad grade…Originality on the other hand could get you anything – from A to F. The whole grading system cautioned against it.”

One of my favorite activities to do with teachers comes straight out of Augusto Boal and the Theatre of the Oppressed. Each teacher “reenacts” for their peers the simple ritual of preparation they do each morning for the upcoming day. The revelation was always the same. “I’m preparing to control my students,” a wide-eyed teacher gasped when the penny dropped, “It’s the opposite of what I want to do.”

We live in the church of the individual yet the message we actually preach is conformity.

I had the opportunity to create a school-within-a-school and I followed the popcorn path suggested by Neil Postman. He wrote that “learning” in our system conditions students to suss-out what teacher wants and regurgitate it. It was possible to kickstart their original impulse toward curiosity but it would require a bloody battle of about six weeks. Hold the line. Don’t fill in the blank for them. And one day, in a fit of anger and defiance, one student would take the brave step and say, “This is what I want to learn!” Support the step of the defiant one and the rest of the students would follow. They would dare to speak their truth and follow their passion. Postman was right! The battle was bloody. It took exactly six weeks.

This is the ubiquitous misunderstanding about originality: it requires the removal of boundaries, the absence of control. A free-for-all. The opposite is true. The most disciplined people I’ve ever known are artists. Their discipline is internal, not imposed. It was the seed of the question I’d ask the teachers after their uncomfortable revelation: “What would it look like if each day you prepared to unleash the student’s curiosity? What, then, would you have to control?” It was an uncomfortable question. It would require them, probably in anger and defiance, to take a brave step. To stand out. To do something different. To expect their students, through the pursuit of their burning questions, to control themselves.

Everyone has a unique star to follow. Sometimes they simply need help to see it.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE LONE TREE

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Gain Some Perspective [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

If you’ve not yet bumped into Piet Mondrian’s paintings of trees, this is your chance. Not only are the paintings beautiful but if you’ve ever scratched your head at his more famous abstract/geometric paintings, you will find the forest through his trees. Things are not always what they seem and, in the era of contemporary art, it is necessary to grok the context in order to fully appreciate the content. Of course, that rule also applies in this age of info-tsunami: content rushing across the screen is regularly embraced whole-cloth – sans context – so truth and lie have equal standing.

In the art world, placing content (an individual painting) into context (the historic era, the long-body-exploration of the artist’s work, the source of the exploration) is called “gaining perspective”. Because things are not always what they seem, it is drilled into every artist to regularly stand back, to clear their eyes, to get perspective on their work-in-progress. It is also (or used to be) drilled-in to offer the same courtesy to the work of other artists. Stand back from snap judgments. Check the sources. Understand the exploration. Grasp the historical context. It is never as simple as “liking” or “not liking”; appreciation opens a vast color palette beyond the numbing mindset of thumbs-up or down.

Gaining perspective and learning are the same thing. The most well-educated people I know are not lawyers or doctors. They are actors, directors, dancers, and painters. Gaining perspective takes a lifelong dedication to questioning and researching and double-checking. It is to peek behind the curtain of popular and not get caught in the current reality spin. It is to know that things are not what they seem. It is to know that reactions are easy answers; questions take time. Gaining perspective takes time.

Sometimes she stops so quickly that it propels me forward a few stumbling steps. While I tumbled forward she knelt at a puddle and aimed her camera at a leaf. Or so I thought. I have learned (daily) that she sees things that I do not. I have learned that my assumptions are almost always wrong. She smiled when she stood up. “Look,” she said.

I gasped. I was terrifically wrong. The leaf was nowhere in sight. The reflection of trees in a puddle on the asphalt trail. A festival of texture. A masterpiece of illusion. Piet Mondrian must have knelt at a puddle reflection just like this! “Trees through an icy window,” I said.

Things are rarely – if ever – what they seem.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE TREES

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See Like Seuss [David’s blog on KS Friday]

If you’ve ever pondered where Dr. Seuss got his idea for the fabulous hairstyles on many of his characters, look no further than the dried flowers in the field. Thing One and Thing Two wave to us as we walk by. The Grinch wrinkles his nose and grins.

Of course, I made that up. I have no idea where the good doctor found his inspiration. It’s a good bet that he, like most creators of characters, found a visual spark from the crazy shapes and wild styles in nature. I look at the zany filaments of this yellowing pod and see a cartoon henchman, narrowing eyes beneath a spiky do. Of course, my henchman, like all good cartoon thugs, has no real power. He likes to think he can intimidate, an omega with alpha delusions. It’s what makes him lovable. I’ll name him Thistle.

I personify everything. Projecting my human-ness on everything is a quality that identifies me as uniquely human. We see angry volcanoes. Trees that talk. Cartoons animals are a festival of personification. Wily Coyote. Humorless gods in the sky. A cat in a hat. Mother Earth.

We are a miracle of creativity, whether we recognize it or not. Projecting ourselves, infusing our fears and fantasies, the sacred and profane, on every mountain, rock and weed. Even on other people. What we see is…what we see. A creative lens. Is it any wonder we’ve filled volume after volume seeking but never finding truth? Agreement is the best we can do.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I just saw a fox in socks…

transience/right now © 2010 kerri sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THISTLE

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Aim The Magic Lens [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“That men do not learn the lessons of history is the most important of all the lessons of history.” ~Aldous Huxley

You may be as amazed as I to learn that Dogwood is not Doll’s Eye. They have a similar creepy Seussian stare but are not kin. In this brave new world, all we need do is aim Google Lens at the question, “What is that?” and, voila! An answer!

I delight that I am living in the time of easy access to information. I could not write as I do without instant access to synonym and antonym, the lighting fast check-of-fact or spelling, the interesting variations-on-a-theme that pop up the minute I jump down a thought-rabbit-hole. Technology has made it possible for me to be a writer. Were I confined to pen and paper my output would be minimal and certainly impossible to read.

Easy information means easy misinformation. It means easy mass-misinformation. If I were the wizard of the universe I’d provide everyone with a Google Lens for information. All we’d need do is aim our magic lens at a pundit, news-bit or politician and, voila!” Accurate or Absurd or somewhere in between! It would make it fairly impossible to toss a lie into the commons and get away with it.

It’s not that I am enamored of just-the-facts. I’m not. I write stories so I prize a good dose of imagination. But in our time, knowing the difference – or caring about the difference – between fact and fantasy – is tantamount.

One of the great challenges of our brave new world is the intentional passing of fantasy for fact. For instance, Florida. If you are a student of history you’ll recognize in Florida (and, now, sadly, other states) the resurrection of the Lost Cause narrative, a history bending education initiative driven hard by the Daughters of the Confederacy at the conclusion of the Civil War. White supremacy sweeping its dark-side under the rug. Lipstick on a history pig.

I’m capable of imagining that my magic Google Info-Lens would put a stop to the cycle of non-sense but it’s starting to dawn on me that Aldous Huxley had it right: at this moment in history, we have the capacity to check every story, to look up every assertion, to scrutinize every source. It may not be as lightning fast as my imagined Lens but it’s close. We simply choose not to use it. It’s so much easier to believe without question than it is to question a belief.

“Huxley feared the truth would be drown in a sea of irrelevance.” Well.

Today on the trail I learned in a nanosecond that a Dogwood is different from a Doll’s Eye. I know it is possible to assert that slavery was on-the-job-training but it takes a dedicated-head-in-the-sand – and a heart full of ugly intention- to drown the truth of history in a sea of utter non-sense.

No lessons learned. No questions asked. Oops. Here we go again.

I Will Hold You (Forever and Ever)/And Goodnight, a lullaby album © 2005 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about Dogwood

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See A Gull [on KS Friday]

A Haiku

a scavenger bird.

opportunistic, seeker.

see! a gull am I!

The gulls congregate in the Kohls parking lot. We’re not sure why. It seems an unlikely spot for gulls to hang out. Hot pavement. No snacks. Cars coming and going. They camp en masse. Later in the day they exit in full voice and return to the marina. Make sense of that, I dare you!

Susan asked when caring-for-others left the building. I launched into a pedantic monologue that, even to me, sounded like the screech of a gull. Lots of noise, little helpful substance. Or, my diatribe mimicked the adults in a Charlie Brown special. Wah-wah, wah-wah. The sound of a preacher who thinks the path to deeper spirituality is through a map or a dry history lesson. A rule book. A witless shepherd caught lecturing the sheep. (baaaahhhhh)

I wondered what or who I might become if I dedicated myself to knowing nothing. What if I understood to my root that my opinion is just that…an opinion. Not a fact or a truth or blue-ribbon winner at the world-thought-fair. What if life needed no explanation?

What if there is no higher meaning to be found or greater mystery to be solved in the daily seagull pilgrimage to Kohls? What if, rather than seek a rationalization, I gave myself over to the wonder-of-it? What if Joseph Campbell had it right:

“People say that what we’re all seeking is a meaning for life. I don’t think that’s what we’re really seeking. I think that what we’re seeking is an experience of being alive…”

take flight/this part of the journey © 1998 kerri sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about SEAGULLS

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Dine With Jonathan [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

I lost my copy of On Reflection by Jonathan Miller in one of my moves. He gave it to me. I treasured it both for the generosity of his gift but also a reminder of a night I had a casual dinner with an artistic giant. He was kind. And funny. And shared his ideas, thoughts and new work like an enthusiastic child. He listened intently to my ideas and thoughts like a fascinated friend. It is the mark of a great artist: humility. Healthy doubt. He loved his work and loved to share the exploration. He was brimming with questions.

I left that evening thinking, “I want that!”

That. Secure in my work. The playfulness of a child. The love of the exploration. The fearlessness to my bones knowing that each painting and every play is not an end in itself – not an achievement – but part of the dance of life on the playground called artist. Dedicated to asking questions. Dedicated to surfacing shared truth.

To Mary Oliver’s question, “What will you do with your one wild and precious life?” I say, I want that. Wild and precious.

That. It’s not an achievement; rather, it is a way of being. A practice. It alters Mary Oliver’s question: How will you be within your one wild and precious life?

Safe. Steady. Unshakable through dedicated practice. Arrived at through a lifetime of grace and humility. Or, perhaps, grace and humility arrived at through a lifetime of questioning. The certainty of doubt. That’s what I saw in Jonathan Miller that night. The paradox of the artist: security in vulnerability. To feel so safe as to play without inhibition. To express sans trepidation. To share and receive with equal enthusiasm.

It is a practice available when the artistry is no longer about the “I” but about the “we”. The bigger energy, call it what you will. It’s humbling. That.

read Kerri’s blogpost about REFLECTION

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