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emerging? [merely a thought monday]

emerging with frame

“emerging artists” the gallery signage reads.  or the concert liner notes.  or the application for an exhibition.  or maybe a residency.  supposedly it sounds better than “new artist” or “unknown artist” and precedes the “mid-career” and “established artist” labels.  that’s to assume that anyone moves beyond the perceived “emerging artist” moniker, the context of that word swirling around the body of work the person has created and its presence in the world.  artists in their fluid creativity are ever-emerging.

the dictionary defines “emerging” as coming into view, coming out, becoming visible, manifesting.  i wonder if we could apply this to humankind….are we all emerging?  headed in some manifesting direction? “being revealed”, “coming to light” seem to imply good things.

i worry that,  in more recent times, i may be becoming a bit jaded.

in looking at humankind as it has been “emerging” lately, i would ask if emerging humans are really “emerging”.  as plants emerge from the soil and grow upward, seeking light, they become stronger, taking in nutrients and sun.  they will manifest blooms or perhaps vegetables – goodness.  as humans emerge, in these days of late, are they seeking light?  will they manifest goodness?  where are we headed in the vastness?  the divisiveness, lack of empathy, ugliness, competition and rage are directions i can’t relate to, directions antithetical to unity, to health.  what will bloom in that world?

hopefully, we, as a humankind, will indeed emerge.  and that emerging, that coming to light, will be to manifest good.  for, actually, we are all ever-emerging.

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free is not free. [flawed wednesday]

FREE2-4yearOlds

i went back. we had passed this on the street while taking a walk. when it registered a moment or two after we passed it, i had to go back.  out of context, it made me laugh aloud.  i showed it to jen and she and i both decided on a 3 year old.  i mean, it’s a FREE 3 year old!!!!

now….everyone knows THAT’S just not true.  i think wryly about the lifestyle difference between people i know who have never had children and people i know who have had 2-4 olds (who grow up into snack-devouring-soccer-playing-music-lesson-taking 8 year olds who grow up into gatorade-guzzling-granola-bar-munching-tennis-playing-nike-sneaker-loving-makeup-wearing-hair-dying teenagers who grow up into university-tuition-paying-care-package-receiving-ramen-noodle-eating-dorm-room-paraphernalia-moving-apartment-sharing-car-driving college students who grow up into….. )

you get the picture.  free is not free.

but i can’t think of anything more priceless.

 

read DAVID’S thoughts on this FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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dogga-chip-head [two artists tuesday]

DoggaChipHeadwithwords

what you can’t see in this picture of dogdog, his gaze intent on me taking his picture, is that he has a chip on his head.  a tortilla chip.  a mission tortilla chip, to be specific.  gluten free.  dogga loves chips.  he loves to have chips on his head, staying perfectly still with the “leave it” command issued.  even more, he loves when “leave it” is released and he can bend his head down and eat his treasured chip.  he prefers it sans salsa.  good thing, because his aussie hair would be a total mess WITH salsa.  and i hardly think salsa is on his doggadiet (for that matter, neither are chips.)

i have to say, dogdog and babycat pretty much run the show here.  not just merely sponsors, they are producers, directors, screenwriters, actors and extras.  we laugh every time we wake up after a fitful night sleep because babycat has taken up 2/3 of the bed, snoring his way through his peaceful slumber.  we could move him, wake him up, nudge him, anything…but instead he just rules over his two-thirds and we deal with it, yawning and complaining about cramped legs all the next day.

dogdog, on the other hand, sleeps in his crate next to the bed.  he loves loves loves sleepnightnight (his word) time and makes sure that everything happens in the “correct” order.   he goes out.  he runs back in.  jumps on the bed.  and listens.  he waits to hear the water-in-the-fridge spigot filling the coffeepot.  waits to hear the coffee grinder.  waits to hear d put a small amount of nighttime kibble in babycat’s bowl.  waits to hear the container on top of the fridge opened from which d gets his cookie.  waits for his bellybelly (also his word) on the bed and kisses on his sweet head, chipcrumbs mixed in with his messy fur.   day’s end for a dogdog.

i don’t know about you, but i don’t know what i’d do without them.   our sponsors.

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trees and angels. [merely a thought monday]

merely words framed copy

“how was your week?” jonathan asked.  we rolled our eyes.  he was unpacking his bass while i uncovered the piano and d adjusted the mic stands.  he said, “tell me about it.  you guys always have great stories!”  eh.  great stories.  more like mini soap operas, you might think schadenfreude applies here (where he might derive some pleasure from our angst) but on the total other side of the spectrum, we have agreed that jonathan is an angel.  i wonder if, as he drives away in his subaru outback, he turns the corner and POOF! he disappears.

“it’s ok,” he says.  “trees must split their bark to grow.  there is pain.”

i can’t remember ever truly thinking about this.  but…i immediately pictured a beautiful sapling, our own “breck”.  a baby aspen we brought back from colorado, we have been nurturing it for over a year now, watching it carefully -and proudly, like parents- through the seasons.  the smooth bark on its adolescent trunk glows in the sunlight and we worry as we see this summer take its toll on the young tree’s leaves.  we notice little scions near its base, our aspen sending out roots to perpetuate itself.

i think of all the walks in the woods, the trails in the forest, the old trees in our yard and neighborhood and i can picture the rough bark, the puzzle pieces up and down the trunk of each tree.  somewhere along time, these trees, too, had smooth skins.  and then, in growing, the cambium layer’s cells, just under the bark, divided and grew, adding girth to the tree’s diameter in the process.  the outer bark continued to protect this inner layer of growth.  the job of that outer bark is forefront, keeping the inner tree healthy, as it experiences pain from the environment.  and the tree grows.

the bark.  the cambium.  the heart of growth.  and angels.

thank you for the perspective-arranging, jonathan.  again.

read DAVID’S thoughts on this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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reach. [two artists tuesday]

REACH copy.PNG

“..but i look up high to see only the light, and never look down to see my shadow. this is a wisdom which man must learn.” (song of the flower by kahlil gibran)

in these times…times of division…times of marginalizing…times of anger perpetuating anger…times of disrespect…times of hopelessness…we implore each other, our universe, our God – for answers, for fairness, for unity, for peace among all persons.

as the flower, we look up and see the light.  knowing the shadows are there, but believing that the light overcomes them. for as the sun moves, so do the shadows change. as the day dawns, the night fades.

the light.  reach for it.

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reach. ©️ kerri sherwood & david robinson

 


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inspiration. a gathering storm. [chicken marsala monday]

inspirationisa WITH EYES jpeg copy 2

a few years ago, after my tealight-vessel-throwing-on-the-wheel experience, i felt like i still needed to express myself in another medium (other than music).  as much as i adored the idea of throwing pots, the cost of the clay and studio time was not in direct proportion to my level of ability; it was time to put that aside till the budget was flush and i could return to the pottery studio without counting pennies.  a tealight vessel (ok, there were a couple tealight vessels if you must know) and one lonely bowl were a total joy but it was clearly going to take some good-long-time to get better on that wheel.  demi moore (in ghost) made it look easy.  it is not.

and so i went to the art supply store and bought a huge canvas.  the biggest one they had in stock.  the kind with a deep side (1.5″).  i brought it downstairs to the workroom and searched around for paint.  since i am not well-versed in this area (to say the least) i selected a can of black paint and a can of white paint.  both household paints. latex.  semi-gloss.  i searched around for one of the old brushes i had been using to paint furniture and i set up my “studio”.

day after day i would go downstairs to look at this spot in the basement.  i could feel my excitement gathering.  i had no idea what i was going to do with this canvas, but it was ready for me.  until one day, indeed, i was ready.

i stood before the canvas and began to paint.  i brushed on paint.  i threw paint.  i spattered paint.  i painted over paint.  time fell away and i kept painting.  i’d walk away and let it dry and then return (this doesn’t take very long with household latex…long enough to pour another cup of coffee or glass of wine) and i’d paint some more.  i’d stand back and i could see what it needed (at least what my eye said it needed.)

and then, i knew.  it was time to stop.  i didn’t know where it was going, but i did know when it was time to stop.

now, i can’t say if the cost of the canvas and studio time were in direct proportion to my level of ability, but i can say they were way less than what my heart felt.  these moments, gathered together, a storm of inspiration, fed me.

this painting hangs in the hall in our house. when i sent a photo of it to a friend of mine right after i was done, scordskiii wrote back to ask whose work it was.  i told him it was mine, laughing and apologizing for it.  he was appalled by my apology and made me promise not to apologize again. so now there are a few more in the living room.  arriving after these paintings all had their dedicated spots on the walls of what-is-now-our-home, david, the real painter in our house, said he loves them.  i’m always invested in real art made by real people, regardless of the genre, so i love them too.  not necessarily because of what they look like.  but because of what they made (and make) me feel.

my first painting

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inspiration is a gathering storm ©️ 2016 david robinson & kerri sherwood

 

 

 


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time together. [k.s. friday]

time together song box

the air coming through the windows this morning felt cool.  almost chilly.  it has been a long while since the last time i could say that of a morning here.  we have had a very hot, very humid summer…not my favorite combination.  but today.  it was different.  and it made me feel immediately homesick.  that happens every fall for me.  maybe it’s a melancholy recognition of the passing of time, years zooming by.  maybe it’s the season-change-thing…we know grey days are lurking right around the corner.  either way, i feel homesick.

it’s a time when i miss long island the most, recall my growing-up years, pine for the autumn at millneck manor and long deserted-beach walks at crab meadow.  a time when my sweet momma and poppo are really present for me in their absence, if that makes sense.  i yearn to talk to them.  a time when The Girl and The Boy seem oh-so-grown-up now, steeped in their own adult-lives, having adventures and being a dynamic part of this world, far away, without the benefit of hearing ‘good night moon’ every night.  i know that every evening they roll their eyes at my goodnight texts to them, but i figure that someday they will understand.  homesick.

yesterday was my father-in-law’s 85th birthday.  we called columbus and sang ‘happy birthday’ to him.  my momma and daddy did that every year for me and i try to carry on the tradition with the people i love.  he laughed and told us he had gotten back from dinner at texas roadhouse and was listening to an old record.  he listens to old records a lot.  i suspect, because he is the man he is, that he gets homesick.  i can tell by his eyes that he would totally understand me if i told him how i felt.

so today, if you are spending time together with someone, memorize it.  if you are lucky enough to spend time with your momma or your daddy, please hug them.  if you are one of the fortunate parents who have their children nearby, hold on just a little tighter and look into their faces when you say goodnight.  relish it.

there is nothing like it.

time together.

 

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TIME TOGETHER from THIS PART OF THE JOURNEY ©️ 1997, 2000 kerri sherwood


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my sweet babycat. [two artists tuesday]

bcat summer with frame

this face entered my life nine years ago now.  i had never had a cat before, but my sister and niece conspired when a kitten showed up on heather’s doorstep in florida.  my sister had asked me, maybe weeks before, what kind of cat i would want if i had a cat (which she insisted i needed.)  not having had sharing-life-with-a-cat-experience (for i know now not to call it “owning a cat”) i was less convinced.  but then this little (short-lived on the word “little”…babycat is BIG!) kitten showed up on heather’s doorstep.  after searching for its owner, it seemed fortuitous that i had answered my sister with the less-than-emotional-or-even-informed-but-kind-of-more-practical response, “i guess i’d want a black cat so it will coordinate with my clothing and i won’t always be using a rolly-thing to get fur off my clothes.”  it was a match!

and, indeed, it was.  after many trials, babycat was named “wilson” (a nod to The Boy’s tennis involvement) and we (The Girl, The Boy and i) drove him back to wisconsin, none of us quite sure how to handle his eating and relieving himself, a crate, food, portable litter box, water, toys and our laps handy.  he has never ever answered to the name wilson and he totally chose his name babycat, readily answering to one of his nicknames.  and so, his dominance over the household started.

babycat was one of those who-rescued-who stories you read about.  at just the right moment, he entered our lives.  he has been a big (no…BIG) presence ever since.  not knowing what cats really do, i taught him many a dog-trick, sitting and speaking on command, coming when called, sitting up to beg for a treat.  he was able and, more so, willing.  (if he’s not willing, there’s no way to make something happen with him.)

and then david and, subsequently, dogdog came along.  b-cat reined them both in, alpha to each of them.  a bit more aloof when younger, but never one to hide or totally ignore us, somewhere along the way, he became a cat who wanted to snuggle.

but that face.  it’s just too easy to read babycat’s mind.  and right now, i agree with him.  where DID the summer go?

babycat.  he’s a force.  and a big (no…BIG) part of my heart.

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for these babycat coasters and other stuff on society6.com/twoartists, click here

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wheretheheckdidsummergo ©️ 2018 kerri sherwood & david robinson


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inspiration and crazy things. [chicken marsala monday]

inspirationmakespeopledocrazythings WITH EYES jpeg

i’ve never bungee-jumped or parachuted out of an airplane or ziplined across a gulch or dropped on a snowboard off the side of a mountain.  but i understand how inspiration can make you do crazy things.

i remember my first album, 23 years ago now, felt like a crazy thing.  it was scary stuff, putting my own music ‘out there’; it was scary standing on stage telling the stories that went along with those pieces and playing my first full-length concert.  i imagine the adrenalin i had standing in the wings of the stage before the lights dimmed was much like that of stepping off the platform in a body harness ready to fly.  now, the scary stuff would be not doing that which i know so well.

so many people who have stepped out – trusting their instincts, trusting their training, trusting their beliefs and values, trusting their resilience.  following a path that might look unlikely.  following inspiration.  seemingly crazy stuff all of it.  stuff that opens them to a wide spectrum of possible results, from wild success to something that looks like failure.

all inspired.  all crazy.  all learnings.  all life.  it may not all be safe, it may make you feel vulnerable; it may even invoke fear, but it sure is interesting.

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inspiration makes people do crazy things. ©️ 2016 david robinson & kerri sherwood


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and goodnight. [k.s. friday]

andgoodnight song box

when i saw aly a few weeks ago she was holding her sweet baby boy landon in her arms and she told me that every night he goes to sleep with this album playing.  ian joked that landon doesn’t make it much past the first three pieces, so maybe they should start it in the middle so they would be able to hear more of it.  either way, hearing snippets or the whole hour of lullabies, i am touched that this little boy is gently going off to sleep with this music playing him into dreams.

i recorded this album after many others.  i had already recorded six original cds, three christmas albums, two retro 60s/70s albums, two hymn albums and several singles by this point.  but many of the shops stocking my albums and listeners who had purchased albums asked me about a lullaby album.  it was with the picture in my heart of rocking (or walking) my own children to sleep that i researched lullabies, wrote a couple original pieces and spent time in the studio at yamaha artist services in nyc recording this.

some of my most precious memories are of My Girl or My Boy drifting off to sleep as i sat in the rocking chair in the nursery watching the seasons change out the window.  i would read goodnight moon and sing quietly to them.  then i would tiptoe out of the room, careful to avoid the spots in the old wood floor that would creak under my steps.

and so, it is an amazing thing knowing that there are moms and dads out there in the world, rocking tenderly or softly slipping out of their nursery with my album AND GOODNIGHT playing their cherished baby into sweet sleep.

 

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AND GOODNIGHT from AND GOODNIGHT-A LULLABY ALBUM ©️ 2005 kerri sherwood