it snowed a lot here in the last week or so. d tried to make our broken-ancient-snowblower into happy news of “getting exercise.” the piles-of-snow-in-parking-lots are really high and they are at that stage where they look like yesterday’s news – they are dirty and a little tired. today and tomorrow it’s supposed to rain which might clear some of that out. our little xb (aka “little baby scion”) is filthy. i look at the weather apps on my phone often, looking for sunny days and temperatures that linger above 50 degrees (maybe.)
we were out on the east coast last summer and went down to the cape to enjoy some beach time. it was heaven. (yes, i know the proper use is “heavenLY” but trust me, it was heaven.) a warm day, ocean waves, full of lobster and amazing seafood we had eaten from wood’s seafood and fish market, we laid out our blanket. we talked, we drew in the sand, we walked on the water’s edge, we collected rocks and shells, we napped. the nap wasn’t intentional. but it was delicious. if i close my eyes, i can almost (almost) touch it.
right about now, i am yearning for a nap on the beach. so this stunning painting-by-my-sweet-husband on this dr thursday (david robinson thursday) in the melange speaks to me. i’d imagine there are a few of you out there in the middle-of-winter who might be with me on that.
every time the girl texts me and says “dude!” i laugh aloud. i have to say i prefer “mom” or “mommommommommom” to “dude” but i’m just happy to hear ANYthing at ANY time from the girl and the boy that ANY name goes. i’m guessing AllMomsEverywhere get that.
there is a sweet bistro in town called wine knot that we love to go to. our favorite spot is at the bar at the end in the corner, where we can people-watch or chat with andy or jeremy, awesome bartenders who, for the longest time, knew to order – wait for it – brian’s amazing meatloaf split and two glasses of merlot – the instant we walked in. there is something smalltownish and heartwarming to be said about this. kind of like one of the things we all loved about watching the show cheers with a cast of ted danson & shelley long, kirstie alley and woody harrelson, kelsey grammar and george wendt and other regulars who became a part of our living rooms and lives. given our new dietary restrictions (gluten free/dairy free -more whole30 compliant and feeling good!) we haven’t been to wine knot as much lately; we are cooking more with glasses of wine on our counter. but sometimes it is nice to just go and sit and visit on a stool in the corner.
this past saturday we were at the cedarburg winter fest, an annual trip for the up-north-gang, an unparalleled and beloved cast of characters. we walk around town, in and out of fun boutiques and shops, laughing at merch together. we watch the parade of firetrucks and snow plows and scurry to the frozen river to cheer for the bed races. it snowed a bit and was very “winter-festival-ish” (as dubbed by dan) this year, as opposed to last year when it was, oddly, almost 70 degrees and forced the bed races to be on the street. we – without fail – end our day together at the crowded pub the silver creek brewing company. dark beers, gluten free ciders, wine and kettle corn are our fare of choice. it’s a total blast. everyone talks at once; the topics are all over the place.
this flawed cartoon wednesday in the melange makes me laugh. the “duuuude”, the (oh-so-wisconsin) “cow-eyes” pun, the bovines at the bar. every opportunity to laugh. it’s a good thing. happy wednesday.
my sweet momma had a favorite quote. it reads, “i shall pass through this world but once. any good, therefore, that i can do or any kindness that i can show to any fellow creature, let me do it now. let me not defer or neglect it for i shall not pass this way again.” (this is generally credited to stephen grellet.) the thing about favorite quotes and humanness is that sometimes we tout them, but fail to live by them. momma really truly lived by this one. she chose kindness, even over her own comfort, even over how she might humanly default in a given moment. a little card with this quote hangs on a piece of tin in our kitchen. being thready and all that means i love to gather things around me that remind of, well, things and people and places and ideals and moments. mmm…you know what i mean.
ptom recently spoke about what it means to be in community…what building a sense of community boils down to. he answered his own question, “radical kindness.” can you imagine a world – everywhere – that was radically kind? KIND. sheesh. what on earth would happen? if kindness was everyone’s first response. if everyone led with kindness. if kindness superceded competition and agenda and reactionary anger and brazen cruelty.
when i drew this image i have to say i had never before noticed that the word “kin” is IN the word “kind”. somehow it hadn’t occurred to me. but after i drew all the stick people in a field of hopeful yellow scribbles (representing sun and warmth and generous days) i saw the word KIN.
be kind. be kin. yes. we-are-all-in-this-together. in the whole wide world. should be simple, eh? this week’s melangetwo artist tuesday.
my sister and i were toodling around milwaukee on one of her visits here, years ago now. we went to this great little coffeehouse on the lake and there was a stand of cards. one read “begin anywhere” a quote from john cage. procrastinators/a.d.d. twins, it jolted both of us and we laughed. it launched a really honest and vulnerable conversation between us over our coffee mugs. we bought two of the cards. hers sits inside a glass frame on her counter in her kitchen. mine is inside an old window frame on the wall in the bedroom.
starting is the hardest thing. so often we don’t know how. and we dread the not-knowing, fearing that we will fail or fall short or never “finish”. finish what? we are never “done,” i believe. we just keep moving. toward who knows what sometimes, but we keep moving. life is fluid and fluxes and we try to be flexible. and sometimes, after we force ourselves to JUST START, we find that the task wasn’t as difficult or involved as we thought, or we were better at “it” than we thought, or there really weren’t the demons we imagined.
i love this CHICKEN MARSALA. in honor of my beautiful daughter-of-the-snowy-mountains, in honor of all the athletes competing in the olympics who started their sports long ago, in honor of artists of every medium everywhere standing in front of a notebook, a piano, an easel, a barre, a microphone, in honor of THE ROADTRIP – a second start for david and me (starting AGAIN is sometimes a beautiful thing) we offer this CHICKEN NUGGET in the studio melange this week.
you’re at the gate. poised. fearful. anticipatory. excited. your imagination is going wild.
i just updated my “about” page on this blogsite. i wrote the words “15 albums and a bunch of singles and i’m still wondering what i’m doing in this industry.” truer words were never spoken. our current world, in all its fantastic technology, has changed everything for recording artists everywhere. music is not hard to create. sales are. i have ranted many a time (and even on this blogsite) about this very thing – vastly minimized earnings with the challenge of streaming and burning and grabbing. but i am a musician. and, if you are an artist of any sort, you know that you are what you are and that’s the story.
our studio melange (paintings, music, cartoons, books, children’s books, plays) introduces friday as ks kerri sherwood friday…an opportunity to say a few words about a song or piece of music, maybe acquaint you with an album or a track you haven’t yet heard. something that might resonate with you. something i recorded in a rainy auditorium 23 years ago (a few people will understand that…carol and the-amazingly-“fine”-ken included.) something i flew to nashville to record. something i recorded after twenty-three hours in the studio. something i recorded at yamaha artist services in nyc. something i recorded five days before my wedding. or maybe something new.
so – in keeping with valentine’s day (and every day) – not to be all geeky-mushy and everything, when IS the last time you slow danced? this song, SLOW DANCE, when it was released as a single from the album AS SURE AS THE SUN climbed a secondary adult contemporary radio chart up to #13.
for a recording artist, there is nothing like hearing your song on the radio. except for maybe slow dancing with the love of your life. yup. no comparison.
slow dance. the song. it seems to speak to people. and THAT is my work. what more can i ask for?
it took my breath away when he painted it. it takes my breath away now.
sharing studio space with my artist husband has many benefits. we can interrupt each other with questions or comments or what-the-heck-is-thats or sometimes tears. i am a great interrupter. i am from long island; interrupting is an art form there. ask crunch or sue or marc AU.
two rocking chairs in the studio means we can mutually sip coffee (or wine) together while pondering what’s next. or brainstorm. or discuss current politics (ugh). or argue. or concoct new ideas. my C5 is upstairs in a different studio, away from paint and acrylic and gesso and scissors and my sewing-machine-induced-scraps and power tools and a sound system that is sometimes cranked up. a melange. welcome to DR davidrobinson thursday.
i won’t forget the day i walked downstairs and saw this painting in progress. the raw emotion is striking and -at once- comforting.
as you head into the weekend and, maybe, your celebration of valentine’s day, i wish for you – in whatever is your own cherished relationship – this feeling. loved. encircled. embraced. held in grace indeed.
wednesday nights in the trinity choir room are pretty funny. is that because it’s wednesday? is that because it’s easy to have fun singing or strumming the ukulele with a wholebunchapeople or playing handbells while talking about everythingunderthesun? maybe it’s a little of everything. wednesdays are like that. we need the fun, the laughs, the rolling-of-eyes to get through the rest of the week.
FLAWED cartoon is also like that. you may laugh. you may groan. you may roll your eyes. but any way you look at them, they are good wednesday fare.
FLAWED cartoon was another run at syndication (which, by the way, is compared to winning the lottery, according to a friend of ours whose fun strip THE BRILLIANT MIND OF EDISON LEE runs daily and who said he felt like he had won the lottery.) david and our dear friend 20 created this cartoon and i have handled all the technical blahblah of it. we cackle every time we jot down a new idea. ohmygosh, isn’t “cackle” a great word?!?
the wiener dog sled makes me laugh aloud. we are pretty devoted life-below-zero fans and have great respect for andy and jessie on that show, both of whom run dogsleds. john and michele next door have three wiener dogs and i just can’t imagine them pulling ANY sled. and, although i don’t remember her well, i spent my babyhood years with a dachshund named shayne, who tells stories through my momma’s books of the same name. wiener dogs rock, but as sled dogs?
and so, our melange of studio-created-stuff continues and FLAWED cartoon wednesday will hopefully bring a grin to your wednesday-can’t-wait-till-friday-face.
very early one cold december morning, a few years ago now, my sweet momma called. it was early even in eastern time. but momma had something to say. she had had a heart event – cardiomyopathy – an event that mimics a heart attack and is dangerous – but is called “the broken heart syndrome”. my momma’s heart was broken; my dad – her husband of nearly 69 years – had died.
on this pre-dawn phonecall with her she told me she just had one thing to tell me. “live life, my sweet potato”, she said.
i knew she was fearful. that was why she called so early. her message still rings in my ears.
when we were playing with designs as TwoArtistsMakingStuffForHumans this saying found its way onto a sweet-potato-orange field. later, david purchased it as a framed print for my birthday. it hangs in a cherished spot as you leave our front door, reminding us – as we go out into the world or as we come back into our home – to live life.
we chose it to be the first of our two artists tuesdays to share in the melange. not because we hadn’t already shared it. but because it bears repeating.
we share studio space. it’s a kaleidoscope of color and sound and texture punctuated by laughter and brainstorming and quiet and dancing…a melange of our work, created individually and together.
for a year we worked on syndicating our cartoon chicken marsala. our chicken strip was sweet and funny and was met with enthusiasm by a couple of syndicates, but ultimately, was not syndicated. however, chicken marsala lived on with us, in our lives. full of goodness and radical kindness, he’s this little guy who is a part of us. so we decided if not chicken strips, then how about chicken nuggets!
LOVE NEEDS NO WORDS is the first chicken nugget we share with you. i could say a lot about the caption of this nugget, but LOVE NEEDS NO WORDS really needs no words.
welcome to our melange. welcome to our studio. see you tomorrow.
i believe in inherent goodness. the inherent goodness of each and every person. born in beauty, walking in beauty. i blame my sweet momma. she looked this way at every single person who crossed her path.
but then, there’s the rest. predisposed psychological genetics. environment. social prejudices. bigotry. elitism. lack of empathy. the inability to walk in another’s shoes. the lack of wanting to try to walk in another’s shoes. some kind of warped misinformed yet embraced caste system. jealousy. bitterness. the web of ‘ugly’ has many faces. and people twist. and that inherent goodness seems to go underground. we wonder if there is, indeed, any goodness left. we are confronted with this question over and over again it seems, especially these days.
we had a discussion about goodness recently. it became heated. the dog left the room and retreated to the bathroom. we were intense. too intense. arguing for the same point, we came from two different directions, two different backgrounds. but we were heading, actually, in the same direction.
each of us carries our gift of inherent goodness. we choose each and every day whether we access it or not. my momma’s adherence to the adage, “i shall pass through this world but once. any good, therefore, that i can do or any kindness that i can show to any fellow creature, let me do it now. let me not defer or neglect it for i shall not pass this way again.” often rings in my ears. we all make decisions each day; some steeped in good, some not so much.
as we approached the holidays and the end of the year, we were deeply diving into cleaning out. seems right at the end of the year. old boxes of random items that had accumulated in the years lived in this home, vestiges of life before, of life growing up, of goodnesses shown and received. we had so much fun as we cleaned; i’d show d pictures or mementos from places or people or the children, every one of them an opportunity for a story. some carried aha moments, some elicited sighs of where-does-the-time-go, some made me laugh or teary, some stopped me in my tracks.
i came across things from way-earlier-life, the time i had spent growing up on long island. my seagull collection, plastic seagulls suspended on wires attached to rocks or shells or pieces of cork, a 70s thing for sure. my horse collection, which was, in my mind, massive, but when i unpacked it was more like 15 horse statues and ribbons from showing in horse shows, drawings i had painstakingly drawn, books i pored over and over and studied at a much younger age. a doll collection with hand sewn or hand crocheted outfits made lovingly by my grandmother ‘mama dear’s’ hands. books and notebooks and old calendars. trinkets and rocks and feathers. cards and letters i saved for decades. artwork by the girl and the boy. little notes they wrote to me. an old electric typewriter and a case of 45rpm records we played the night we found them.
and then there are the reminders from a time i don’t talk about so much. a time when i became a #MeToo. it takes my breath away to think of that 19 year old girl. me – an idealistic, innocent, youngest-by-far child who looked at the world through poetic eyes and trusting-colored glasses. my heart breaks now for this young woman who found her way through a terrifying -and life-changing- time pretty much alone, seeking little help for an act that drove to her core and was more than difficult to voice in a late 1970s judicial system. because, you know, not everyone is good. not everyone holds their inherent goodness ahead of their selfish, controlling, violent behaviors. back then, counseling, and even prosecuting, was rare. i didn’t experience either one. the help of counseling nor the satisfaction of prosecuting this person who took away my belief and trust in goodness. for a time, fear coursed through me. my view of others became jaded and distrusting. i sought refuge in varying ways, but never really explained why to myself or others. i didn’t understand what caused this man to behave as he had, nor did i understand that it wasn’t mine to understand. what i do know, is that i grew.
and now, as our world opens their listening hearts to women and girls everywhere, i am grateful. grateful for their collective voices and the deserved help extended to them. grateful that even in giving individual voice, they are moving through the processing of it, the reason for being a #MeToo becoming smaller than #MeToo survival.
i was once told wise words from a friend when i was grieving my momma’s death. joan said, “the only way to get to the other side is through it.”
as i sort through all the pieces of life i have carried in boxes, in bins, in photographs, in my heart and soul, through all these years, i realize again that these words are so true. in so many situations, so many life arenas. the only way to get to the other side is through it. and then, you can find inherent goodness again.
my sister and i were toodling around milwaukee on one of her visits here, years ago now. we went to this great little 
i believe in inherent goodness. the inherent goodness of each and every person. born in beauty, walking in beauty. i blame my sweet momma. she looked this way at every single person who crossed her path.
reverse threading 