reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


Leave a comment

purple adirondack chairs. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

purple adirondack chairs copy

deb said, “you need to go sit in the adirondack chairs.  and just breathe.”  being a lover of adirondack chairs, any color whatsoever, i immediately agreed.

and so we did.

we sat quietly, in purple, in this very important time, as the sun warmed our faces and we could hear the gentle lap of the waves of the bay on the shoreline.  there was nothing else but birdcalls and a bit of wind.  it was sans noise.  no traffic sound.  no sirens.  no trains.  no loud stereos.  just quiet.  and the sound that sunlight and blue sky make on ever-greening spring.

north of the tension line. indeed.

what and where are your purple adirondack chairs?

read DAVID’S thoughts on this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

boots onthe bay website

Screen Shot 2019-05-13 at 7.13.32 PMwishing the happiest birthday to my amazing & beloved daughter, The Girl. Screen Shot 2019-05-13 at 7.13.32 PM

Advertisements


Leave a comment

part of the wind. [k.s. friday]

part of the wind songbox copy

with the sun not yet up over the farmlands, the hot air balloon lifted.  we slowly sailed over fields and stands of trees, watching the world wake up.  as the sun rose over the horizon, we could hear what was going on below us.  we weren’t that high up and any conversation in backyards and barns, on patios and decks or driveways was easy to hear.  we weren’t intentionally eavesdropping; you just can’t help but hear clearly up there in the wind.  it’s an amazing vantage point floating low in the sky, sharing the sunrise with the earth, an endless horizon.  a little wary, i had asked the pilot if he had any anti-motion apothecary suggestions.   he responded by telling me that none are needed, that you are “part of the wind.”  we were.  we are.  part of the wind.

when we go antiquing and wander around in vast collections of other people’s lives, we pass by paintings on the walls and in stacks against cabinets, displayed beautifully and piled haphazardly.  we stand in front of bins full of records and 45’s, stacks of CDs not even alphabetized, the vinyl and polycarbonate/aluminum blend all beckoning us to sort through and remember songs or moments in time.  and we, artists of the canvas and of song, draw in our breath.  it’s an amazing vantage point floating here in time, sharing this day with the earth, contemplating.

and we wonder if this is where all of our paintings and cds will end up one day…in an antique shop where browsers will pass by, exclaiming, “wow!  look at all those paintings!” or “wow!  look at all those cds!”  we wonder if they will stop, page through, recognize a track or two, an image or two, or if they will be curious or spellbound and buy something to bring home.  perhaps we will remain part of the stacks, the bins, ever-growing, the horizon endless.

either way, we are part of the wind.

download BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL on iTUNES or CDBaby

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

birdy feet website box

PART OF THE WIND from BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL ©️ 1996 kerri sherwood

 

 

 


Leave a comment

the tape box. [two artists tuesday]

bcat tape box copy

i’m not sure why babycat thought we expected him to go sit in the square.  but he did.  jen had told us about this experiment….put blue tape on the floor and see what your cat does.  laughing, we tried it.  and b-cat cooperated.  it wasn’t minutes after the tape was on the floor that he entered the kitchen, looked at it and went directly to it.  he sat his sweet hulking body down inside that tape-box and eventually he laid down inside it (although he was definitely coloring outside the lines, so to speak.)  it was astounding to watch.  this is a cat, after all.  and yes, he has really loved the dogbed in the sunroom and the crest box in the sitting room, but a box made of painter’s tape?  we just didn’t expect him to conform so readily.

most of the time, b-cat lives his life outside the box.  he acts more like a dog than a cat; i had never had a cat before him so i taught him all sorts of dog-tricks.  babycat doesn’t really know the difference, although were he to look it all up, he would see ‘follows the sun around the house’ was in the rule book for cats, not dogs.  but this one evening, with no prompt from us, he decided to stay inside the box.  he sat, he laid down, he purred in his sleep.  he was content.  inside the box wasn’t too bad, i guess.   later on, though, when the tape was off the floor, he didn’t seem to notice it was gone.  he never looked for it.  he didn’t seem to pine for its presence in his life.  he just went about his not-normal-cat behavior.  outside the box.

i guess there is something to be said both about living in the box and living outside the box.  both have merit.  one encourages you to be the cat you are defined to be.  the other allows you to be the dog no one expects you to be.

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

babycatContemplating website copy


Leave a comment

the power of words. [d.r. thursday]

Illustration 08 copy 2

and the wily old story fox told the pack, “words are like magic, misused they are tragic…”   (Lucy & The Waterfox – by David Robinson)

and the wily old story fox told the pack, “words are like magic, misused they are tragic…”

NOT ALL OLD FOXES ARE WISE LIKE THIS.

Lucy & The Waterfox

LUCY & THE WATERFOX, a beautifully illustrated story for children and grown-ups about believing, following your own path and the power of words.

click on the book above or here to purchase the book LUCY & THE WATERFOX on amazon.com

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

drc website header copy 2

archeswebsitead copy 2

LUCY & THE WATERFOX ©️ 2004 david robinson


Leave a comment

his palette. [d.r. thursday]

palette copy

we really never know what it takes to do someone else’s job.  we don’t know all the tools used, the research done, how training and experience play into it, how someone perceives their own work.  we can only guess and, often, fall desperately and even arrogantly off the mark.

walking into d’s studio my eye is drawn to the easel standing in the far corner.  closer to me, though, is an old cart with an old wooden box holding paints and brushes.  there is another cart and on that is this palette – layers upon layers of color and texture, clay pots of water standing next to this widely-understood symbol of “artist”, often associated with the beginning of the process of painting.

now, i’ve painted a few paintings in my life.  i bought very large prepared canvases and dug around in the basement for leftover acrylic house paint to use on my creations.  without a palette, i brushed and re-brushed and threw paint until i knew each painting was done.  and then i hung them on the walls.  in one case, i painted right on the wall and put a clearance frame around the section of wall that i painted – a nod to a painting without the cost of canvas.

all of this, however, does not make me capable of really understanding how d paints.  for i do not know all the tools, i do not know the process of mixing color or the technique of stretching canvas he uses, i do not know the tricks of the trade he has accumulated over decades of honing his expertise.  nor do i know the knowledge base he brings about other artists, other painters and paintings, the use of light and dark space, the way the viewer’s eye sees, the very technical details and the very heart-based intuitions he has learned through many, many years of study and practice.  i can’t understand or even try to predict the amount of time it takes or doesn’t take for him to conceptualize, to explore, to create, to review, to assess, to adjust, to re-create.  i can respond to his work but i cannot define it, nor would it be meritorious for me to even try to do so.  out of respect for his work, something that is one of the very things that defines him, i know that i really have no idea.  what i can do is appreciate his talent and every last thing that he has done to bring him to this place where he paints beautiful paintings and it seems to take no effort whatsoever.

with regard to anyone and the work that they do, i would hope we could each remember – with humble respect – that we really have no idea.  we can just be grateful that we are each a spoke in the wheel on this good earth.  our palettes, the places from which we begin, are different.  and we can’t do it alone.

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

drc website header copy 2

roadtrip reading website box


Leave a comment

things of comfort. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

duke's painting copy

painting by DUKE

“the finnish wood carvings, ” my sweet momma would answer when asked what she wanted in her little assisted living apartment, a place she would occupy without my dad, some time after he died.  those finely carved statues accompanied her from new york to florida, house to house, and, finally to her small apartment.  she cherished them and spent long hours deciding to whom she would give each one.  the list in many notebooks and on many scraps of paper showed that she pondered each recipient’s personality and interests before deciding on a gift choice; these wood carvings were important and each was later given with decades of love.  placed on an equally significant-to-her live-edge wooden shelf in her tiny living room, they seemed to represent comfort to her, something that spanned the years, something that, in their familiarity, gave her a sense of security.  a piece of what-had-been-home in this new home.

when you walked down the hall in eileen and duke’s home, just in front of you before you turned in to their master bedroom was this painting.  duke was an amazing artist, a painter and sculptor with an enormous collection of work.  when we were helping 20 move his momma eileen into her assisted living apartment a few weeks ago, this painting beckoned me as something that might be a familiar sight in her new unfamiliar home.  as we placed other artwork on the wall, i kept thinking about this painting that we had left in their home and i nagged 20 about it.  i felt it could be placed so that the moment that eileen stepped into her new bedroom it would be ahead of her, before she turned to head to her bed.  jogging her memory of the home she and duke had made together, a touch of comfort for her.  20 picked it up later that night and the day his momma moved in we hung the painting.  this sunny, but somewhat austere space, suddenly was lifted to a different level.  the photographs of duke and eileen in the kitchen, the familiar prints in the living room, this painting in the bedroom.  all touchstones from home in this new home.

there are certain things i like to have around me.  things that even in times of uncertainty give me a sense of footing.  were i to pare down there are items that would definitely make the cut, unlikely choices maybe, but things that bring me solace, things that alleviate angst, things that gladden my heart.  what are yours?

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

hands website box copy

 


Leave a comment

a matter of perspective. [two artists tuesday]

skewed -framed copy

corrugated metal.  i have a thing about it.  i have a thing about texture.  and a thing about capturing texture on film.  i love design and white space and fonts, simplicity and the challenge of balance.  this image started with the side of a building against clean snow.  i felt (and still feel) connected to this building and what it represented, so its texture is beautiful to me; the image both inspires and saddens me.  an experiment in contrast and point of view, it may be hard for a viewer to discern what the original pure image might have been.  manipulating it, changing what the viewer would see is simply an orchestration of color and space, light and dark, angle and edge, point and counterpoint (melody) lines.  skewing it changes the emotional response; although it remains fundamentally the same, it becomes something slightly different and is seen through a different lens.  it’s all a matter of perspective.

how we look at anything.  how we see anything.  how the pieces come together, how we view them, how we sort, how we sometimes have to let go.  it’s all a matter of perspective.

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

footprints in the snow at bristol woods website box

SKEWED ©️ 2019 kerri sherwood & david robinson