the picnic ©️ 2019 kerri sherwood
once upon a time, a geometric rug found its way onto our doorstep. it was carried in and put in the dining room, where all rolled-up geometric rugs go. it was The Boy’s rug and it would wait for The Boy to come get it. Rug waited and waited. until one day, The Boy came. Rug got excited. it knew it was going to go with The Boy and be his Rug. but The Boy gathered all the other large boxes in the dining room, which had become a holding ground for deliveries, and Rug heard him start his car and drive away. Rug panicked, thinking perhaps he had done something wrong, perhaps he wasn’t wanted. and so he sat, sad and alone, the only delivery left in the dining room, all rolled up and despondent.
until one day when we came home from the island. we walked in, carrying boxes and bins, unloading them in, of course, the dining room. there, leaning up against the cabinet, was Rug. sorrowful, lonely, dejected, left-behind Rug. i looked at the label on Rug and saw that it belonged to The Boy and so i assured Rug that we would bring him home.
like all other weird things we seem to get ourselves involved in, we decided to take the train to deliver Rug to The Boy. we could have driven directly to his door in the big city, but for reasons hard to comprehend, we picked up Rug and carried him onto the train. all three of us disembarked from the train and Rug and i looked at the gps on my phone. a beautiful day, it was only 2 miles to walk to the front door of The Boy’s place. and so, off we went. happily scampering down the sunny sidewalks of the city, a big triangle grin on Rug’s face as he anticipated his new home. we took Rug into a grocery store and rode up and down on an escalator, adventuring together. back on the street, people gawked at us walking with Rug, for it is clearly not often enough that people take rugs for a walk. when at last we got there, The Boy carefully unpackaged Rug and laid him on the floor, next to the new couch and under the new coffee table. we left Rug to uncurl and went to lunch.
in the pouring rain, walking the two miles back to the train, we talked about our next adventure. and we hoped that Rug was adjusting well.
“today is the first day of the rest of your life.”
i remember this on posters, on cards, in songs, in speeches. it was the 70s and recognizing that today was today and tomorrow was fresh seemed enlightened.
we stand, paused – and surrounded by things to pack into littlebabyscion and big red – and glance at what is forward. the adventure. the adventure begins. today is the first day…
we have accepted positions as the co-managing directors of a performing arts center on washington island in door county, wisconsin. we will be on island this summer, settling into the island community and handling the details of this beautiful 250 seat performing arts center. the community seems kind and embracing. the island is quiet and peaceful. our home will be a haven of sunrises across the water and our friends and family will gather there as we do our new work. the deck will welcome loved ones from near and far; the adirondack chairs will tease with invitation on water’s edge. dogdog and babycat will adjust, as will we. and soon, probably before we are ready, the summer will be over and we will be back on the mainland, still managing, but from afar.
there is a special energy in door county. you can feel it; it’s palpable. it’s a creative juju that celebrates the simple beauty of time spent outdoors, time spent with loved ones, time spent honoring the arts. i can’t think of a better match.
let the adventure begin.
we packed it. this painting. i will need things that are familiar around me and this is one of those things. familiar paintings, peace signs taken off the wall from home, comfort-comforters and quilts, the dog and the cat and their paraphernalia, favorite kitchen items, and so much more; all will keep me surrounded by the familiar in the unfamiliar.
we are going on an adventure and i will need the touches of home…to keep me centered, grounded, feeling forward movement.
this painting now hangs in that living room, its horizon gazing out on a horizon also of water, of expanse. its solace echoing the solace we will bring for each other, two together in a strange land.
NAP ON THE BEACH will hold court over that living room, that different home, and remind us that this new adventure is indeed together – absolutely, positively together and we need not worry or fear. in the familiar there is comfort.
NAP ON THE BEACH ©️ 2017 david robinson
the adventure will soon begin. but before that, this ONE-DAY PRE-ADVENTURE PAINTING SALE!
if you are freshening up your surroundings and have a spot in your heart and home or workplace for one of david’s paintings, this 50% off sale may be good timing for you. browse the site and contact us (email: firstname.lastname@example.org) with questions or to make purchase arrangements. all paintings will ship before week’s end.
enjoy your virtual walk through the gallery!
i wasn’t sure how it would feel to stay in the car on the ferry. i was leery of the windy, rainy day and how that would play into how rough the crossing could be. i’m not fond of motion-sickness taking over my day, so i was prepared…bonine: check, motion bands: check, ginger chews: check, water: check, salty chips: check, window open: check. i was ready. but still leery.
in the small harbor it was calm, despite the wind. but out there, beyond the jetty…
when people want to impart words of wisdom about motion sickness, they tell you to keep your eyes on the horizon. these words are partially true; keeping your eyes inside the vehicle or plane or boat doesn’t do you any favors. but there’s more to it. and i was worried about out there, beyond the jetty.
we so often stay protected, inside the harbor. predictability and security are seeming keys to our happiness. they are the indicators of serenity. we venture on small protected side trips, curious to see what we might find.
i am guilty of this as well. a homebody in many ways, i love the safety of the familiar harbor, the one near and dear to me. beyond the jetty is unknown, maybe rough waters, maybe difficult to traverse.
but it occurs to me that beyond the jetty it might be calm as well or perhaps more navigable than i thought. serenity doesn’t stay put in the harbor. it comes with us. out there, beyond the jetty.
i searched for quotes about risk. there are a plethora of them out there. then i realized that maybe the best one for today was already there – no good adventure is without risk. there are no guarantees in life. we all know that. nothing that says if you do this, that will definitely happen. the ifs-thens are not absolute. the ifs-thens aren’t even, well, iffy on occasion. and sometimes there’s no chance in hell that an adventure, an experiment, an endeavor will work out. we jump anyway.
in this anniversary week of THE MELANGE, we’ve done a great deal of looking back at our jumping. those jumps reach much further back than just this past year. as two artists living together, two artists working together, two artists laughing and breathing and arguing together, we have experienced lots of falling-into-the-water as we’ve gone. our individual artistry output pre-dates this year by decades. epic moments of success are conjoined with moments of missing the next rock in the stream (see CHICKEN MARSALA sketch above to see what that looks like.) but, even knowing that – by reverse-threading now – in looking ahead, at all the mystery of that, we jump anyway.
nothing worth doing comes without hard work. no good adventure is without risk. there are no guarantees. all wise words. all daunting. we jump anyway.
THE MELANGE ©️ 2018 david robinson & kerri sherwood
images in THE MELANGE ©️ 2016-2019 david robinson & kerri sherwood
CHICKEN MARSALA ©️ 2016 david robinson & kerri sherwood