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Category Archives: two artists tuesday


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opportunity of the sun. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

it was the last arch on the map without going backcountry. we stared down the long hill, weighing the opportunity to see it against the very hot sun and our very tired elevation-trail-challenged bodies. we chose the opportunity to see it.

i’ll never forget the first time i saw this incredible place. our daughter videotaped my reaction – gleeful that i was teary-eyed from the beauty. “i think she likes it!” she quipped.

we left the rest of the group on the top of the hill and started to hike down. and down. and down. tunnel arch pulled us – our thoughts – go now for when will we be back? – drawing us further downhill, even knowing we would need to hike back up.

it was absolutely worth it. the sun was getting lower in the sky over the arch and blue sky shined through the perfect circle worn into the red rock. opportunity knocked and we answered. and, despite the tough uphill, we were grateful to have seen this stunning sight.

opportunity is funny like that. you know that there are sacrifices as well as rewards. and you need to sort it out, choose that which balances you, fulfills you. in this case, immersion in arches national park – as much as possible for that day – was our choice.

and that light. the red rock glowed, the sage was lit. there was no way to succumb to feeling tired at the bottom of the trail we had just taken.

instead, the sunlight was invigorating, outlining the graceful curves of the arch, tempting us to hike closer. had there been time – and had our pals not been waiting on the crest of the hill – we would have hiked into tunnel arch itself.

i can imagine nestling against the curve of its wall, soaking in the sunlight, resting from the day. i can imagine that the sun would have replenished the energy we needed to rejoin our friends, to hike out, to finish this glorious day. i imagine that the sun would have swept away any vestiges of tiredness, replacing those with gratitude and awe.

tunnel arch offered us an opportunity. and in taking that very opportunity i was reminded of martin luther king jr’s words:

“my place is in the sunlight of opportunity.”

sunlight. opportunity.

“we have before us the glorious opportunity to inject a new dimension of love into the veins of our civilization.”

opportunity. love.

“…we have an opportunity to make america a better nation.”

opportunity. america.

vote for sunlight. vote for awe, for love, for the gloriousness of this sacredly beautiful nation. vote for opportunity.

vote for what TRULY makes america better. 💙

vote for kamala.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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which story? [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

sometime between 300 and 1300 c.e. there were people in this south central utah area who wanted to tell a story, to preserve it. their narrative – told in petroglyphs – was about their daily living – their families, livestock, wildlife they hunted. it was a narrative of living in community. it is astounding to witness the carved chiseling of so long ago, humbling to imagine living in such a harsh, difficult environment. you can feel a pull from the earth as you stand there – something that binds you to those moments so many centuries before. you gaze at these figures and are struck by the humanness of this history – despite absolutely different living conditions, we all simply wish to tell a narrative of our living.

the petroglyphs we were fortunate to see at capitol reef did not depict fighting. they did not depict division nor hatred. they did not depict power or control struggles. they did not depict what would certainly be pictured as part of petroglyphs were there to be some telling the tale of right now.

in absolute embarrassment about how low this country’s people have sunk – the inability to hold democracy and freedom-of-all-to-live as essentials – the spewing hatred and vitriol – i cannot imagine what story petroglyphs etched into big red rock canyon walls now would tell – later.

covid has given us some free time. in-between moments of feeling absolutely horrendous, we have succumbed to reading articles, scrolling the news. it is utterly disturbing.

i want to scream, “this is not about you!!!” to people caught up in the despicable hate, in the misinformation, the disinformation, the conspiracies. i want to beg people to consider the future of this country’s democracy, the future beyond their own lives, to vote for something hopeful. i want to ask people to just stop, listen, think, consider.

i do not recognize you – you, who are supporting the heinous intentions of the maga-party. i do not recognize you – you, who are turning a blind eye to people in your midst who you claim to care about or even love – as you sign on to extreme changes of freedoms in these un-united states. this is not a difference in policy-embracing; this is a deeply undermined philosophical difference on humanity. i do not recognize your heart, turned so very angry, exclusionary, cold. and, in turn, my heart is broken, seeing this, seeing you – now.

but i know the power of rhetoric, the sheer toxic force of those who lie. i have experienced being the subject of warped narrative, of agenda-riddled powermongers. and in my tiny subset of experience, i have seen people – who i never would have expected – support the lies, push the ugly agenda, fight to win. but it is in their winning that they truly lost. and i believe they know that.

if there were to be petroglyphs or pictographs on red rock canyon walls telling our story – the story of we-the-people of these times – what would we wish them to depict?

it boils down to a pretty basic question.

is it a story of community? or a story of devastating division and hate?

which story?

who are you?

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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this desert. (kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday)

 and so it started. surrounded by sagebrush and cactus, with the sun rising across this desert, unfamiliar land, we began our adventure.

we got up early to see it rise – knowing it would take some time to come up over the mesa. we held mugs of coffee in our hands, excited to begin exploring with our friends in this other part of the country.

and as we stood there – ever so patiently waiting for this new day, the juniper called to us – “go…have fun…be in this place…begin something new…we – the juniper, the sagebrush, the cactus, the red rock will hold you…start now.”

we skipped back to the airbnb house, mugs empty and hearts full.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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smitten by home. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

“whatever a house is to the heart and body of man-refuge, comfort, luxury-surely it is as much or more to the spirit.” (mary oliver)

we’ll travel a bit soon. a trip that’s been semi-planned – and postponed – for some time. even before setting out, we know it will be great fun, adventuring with friends, moseying the country with them. there is a sweetness to anticipation.

and it’s funny. every time i get close to going away – anywhere – i have a distinct appreciation for our own home. there is something that rises up for me before a trip – a reminder of how really dear home is to me – our old house, our backyard, this amazing lake just a bit to our east, our dogga, our life here. we take walks in the days before leaving and mother earth does her very best at impressing us – a showcase of unparalleled beauty, a display of what’s-right-here.

and it’s no different this time.

even the unexpected worn-gasket-water-pipe-union spewing water into our basement cannot change this feeling. even d’s all-day wet vac duty, carpet that was soaked, stuff that needed to be moved out of the way, the unplanned cost of an expert plumber – even all that didn’t dim this appreciation of home.

we have traveled a lot together and i have become aware of how true it is that you carry home with you. we’ve taken home – together – overseas and all over our nation. this trip will be just the same – a great exploring – while holding home between us.

we are excited to go, to be fed by new places and new experiences, fodder for our muses, our spirits expanding with the time away.

and, at the same time, here i am – smitten by our own home, my spirit filled before we even leave.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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when you’re ready to see it. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

our sweet dogga is getting older. we don’t want to see it, but the grey on his muzzle is telling. though more recently – with his new homemade-in-our-kitchen chicken/rice/peas-and-carrots dinners – he seems more energetic, his needs are ever-present in our thoughts and the consideration we have when we are deciding on what our day or days will involve. he is a happy errand-goer and we try to incorporate an errand or two on which he might go along; on days it’s too hot outside, one of us stays in littlebabyscion with the a/c on to accommodate him and keep him safe.

in this reflection of our front door, doggle is waiting for his unkajohn to arrive, filled with excited anticipation. though this happens twice a week – 20 and the two of us share dinners regularly – dogga is as just excited each time.

i took this photograph almost a week ago from our front stoop. i showed it to d and he commented that it was a cool photo. it was only a few moments ago – as we uploaded the image to wordpress – that he realized that dogdog was in the picture.

it reminded me of that ink blot from back in the day where you are supposed to see jesus and all i could see was a dark blot that sort of resembled the shape of the united states – until just now – truly, just now – when i googled the blot and jesus became obvious.

some things are just hard to see at first. i guess you see stuff when you are ready to see it. that sounds more profound than i meant it – particularly about photographs and ink blots – but i would guess that it is true about other enlightenments. suddenly – seemingly out of the blue or with the generous help of a treasured therapist – we understand something, have clarity of sight, thought or emotion. suddenly, we connect the dots. suddenly, things fall into place and there is the inimitable “ahhh” moment. and the flow starts.

i recently had an event that sent me to the emergency room. it felt like a heart event – and had all the warning signs – and it was scary. after numerous ER tests, i followed up with my own physician – a doctor of osteopathy who i had only met with a couple times. her diagnosis was positive as she read the results of the tests i had; for reassurance she recommended that i follow through with a local cardiologist. but here’s the most important thing…she recommended myofascial massage.

i’m from the east coast – and david spent most of his adult life on the west coast – but here in the midwest, natural solutions to physical ailments or concerns are not all that commonplace. even the ones that make sense.

“trauma and stress,” my pcp said, “get stuck in the fascia of your body.” myofascial massage releases the restriction in the connective tissue of your body. this restriction manifests in a variety of ways, causing pain or inflammation. and so, she recommended i try it.

i’ve been to one appointment with my myofascial massage therapist. it had inordinately profound moments. it nearly brought me to weep when – using the gentlest of touch on my shoulders – i could feel myself breathe. reeeally breathe. deeply breathe. safely breathe.

the dots connected.

i couldn’t see this tension that was existing – thriving – in the fascia of my own body from trauma much earlier in my life – just like david couldn’t see dogga in the photo and i couldn’t see jesus in the ink blot. but it was all there – tension, dogga, jesus. but it must have been time. time for me to see it. i was more than ready.

and i can feel the flow – albeit a trickle – starting.

and now, as i wait for my next appointment with this obviously gifted myofascial massage therapist, i am filled with excited anticipation – like dogdog waiting at the door for his unkajohn.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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donuts and stars. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

“the optimist sees the donut. the pessimist sees the hole.” (oscar wilde)

i suppose this could easily be applied to aging. somehow, in some rush of years, i am 65. it’s still a wonder to me and it has now become clear why my sweet momma was so astounded when she was almost-94 and thought she looked like “an old lady” when she looked in the mirror.

like my sweet momma, we are choosing to see the donut. which, i suppose, means one day we will be astounded as well. (truth be told, we are a tiny bit astounded by some tiny body-change each and every day, but we are holding off on the big-time astonishment as long as we can.)

so instead of seeing – and ruminating on – what’s missing in the here and now, instead of trying to clarify the blurry of what’s out there ahead of us, we – as an ever-aging couple – yikes – are zeroing in on the gifts of the present, the sweet phase – as we are calling it, and tapping the rich potential of the future. there is so much we don’t know but we are excited about exploring what’s next.

artists don’t really have solid retirements. it’s risky business, this being-an-artist thing. we keep on keeping-on because it’s an imperative, a driving force. we write, we paint, we compose, we mold thoughts and questions and experiences and impressions into tapestries that we – vulnerably – put out there for others to read, see, listen to, touch, feel.

we work for the donut-lovers and the donut-holers. we are not selective. we believe art is fundamental. art provides access and awareness. we are simply part of the delivery mechanism.

and so, even as we get older, that doesn’t change. we look to times of new projects, artist residencies, experiments outside our usual mediums. we aren’t simply done. and, maybe, in the words of grace hopper, “we’re just getting started.”

regardless, every day we walk toward astonishment we have decided to do it with as much grace, joy, anticipation and gratitude we can possibly muster. we will be (gluten-free) donut-lovers in the sweet phase and we will reach for each star past the donut hole.

“we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” (oscar wilde)

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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doing-do-bees. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

“i’m a romper room do-bee, a do-bee all day long.” (romper room)

oh geeez. about to write this blogpost, i looked at this image – of this stunning bumblebee happily lingering in the flowers of our coleus – and thought of the romper room do-bee song. where does this stuff come from???

my dear husband claims that i am a circular worker-bee, that i go from one thing to the next, doing a bit, then doing a bit, then doing a bit, then circling around again and getting a bit more done, a bit more done, a bit more done. i suppose that is somewhat true – though i would like to add that eventually it all truly gets done, circular or not. as i watched this bumblebee bumbling happily around the other day, i thought that maybe i am more of a bumble than a circular worker-bee. or maybe that’s the same thing…

this little bee seemed perfectly content to flit from one flower to the next, never lingering too long on any one nectar source. it reminds me of when i had toddlers, flitting from reading from a stack of books on the floor to the matchbox cars on the floor to the studio to jot down a lyric or a melody to the stove to stir the kraft macaroni and cheese or flip over the grilled cheese sandwich. in constant motion. just like the bee. eh, truth be told, it reminds me of now.

romper room was a staple back in the day. though the host never saw me (she never said my name aloud) in her magic mirror, i remained a fan through my pre-school years. the fact that i have the romper room do-bee songs 45 rpm record attests to the impact of this little show back then. it’s interesting that i still have it – in my 45rpm record case – the kind that perfectly fits 45s with a buckle on the front and the handle on the top. and it does make me wonder how mitch miller and his orchestra, along with the sandpipers recorded this side a/side b with straight faces. “i always do what’s right. i never do anything wrong. i’m a romper rom do-bee, a do-bee all day long,” the big finish has a predictably rising (and crescendoing) melody despite impossible-to-humanly-achieve lyrics.

we write blogposts six days a week, as you know. five of them are based on images of photography or quotes we have come across in our path, while saturday is the cartoon smack-dab that we produce. that you have gotten to this sentence is amazing to me and i want to thank you for reading – however often or sporadically you read. i’m never quite sure of what i will write as we open up our laptops (ok, well, not my laptop now as that is refusing to remember its role in life, so i open up my mini ipad). i’m never sure of how you might react or respond to what i have written. sometimes i feel vulnerable about what i have shared. sometimes i feel nervous about what i’ve put out there. sometimes i’m a little tiny bit proud of something i’ve written. nevertheless, i keep writing and telling you of life from my little corner of the world. it is, after all, a romper room rule:

romper stomper bomper boo, tell me, tell me, tell me, do.

i’m an artist. always i know that there will be another flower, there will be another source of nectar. the next image, the next day. and i will happily – and bumbly – share words and thoughts with whomever wishes to read them.

you and i – we are together in this moment. we are doing-do-bees, sharing time in the world.

and, from the bottom of my trying-to-be-a-do-bee-all-day-long heart, i wish you plentiful flowers filled with plentiful sweet nectar as you flit from one moment of your life to the next.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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DeeNCee Lullabaloo. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

it would be an understatement to say we were excited to see a frog in our pond again. we’d been waiting and then gave up. it’s a tiny pond – and it has attracted a frog for many years save a couple – but it has been an extraordinarily hot summer and we thought it possible that we would never see one in our backyard watering hole this year.

and yet, there it was. we cheered and, later, before we turned on the last night of the democratic national convention, toasted his existence.

we named him DeeNCee Lullabaloo – after both the DNC and the lull in which we have dedicated ourselves. DeeNCee, for short, though his whole name is ridiculously fun to say aloud.

way back when, it was helen who told us what it meant to have a frog – “fully rely on God,” she said, encouraging us to trust in hope and what was to come. since that first frog, life has been a real mash-up of stuff that has happened. but every frog that has turned up – each spring or summer or early fall – has been another sign of hope, another small miracle. for each one we have been grateful and a little bit astounded.

DeeNCee showed up on thursday, the same day that kamala harris accepted the democratic nomination to run for president.

the convention had been unbelievably exciting to that point…speakers and performers and politicians all stoking the flame of hope, the sprinkles of joy everywhere, light – a part of our future.

until a mere few weeks ago, it all looked rather bleak, a country destined to fall under the leadership of those who aren’t truly concerned about e pluribus unum, those who want complete and utter power and control, those who do not deserve such a honorable task as to lead this nation.

and then…then…hope, light and joy burst forward and suddenly there is a chance for our gay son to marry, our daughter to continue to be in charge of her own body, our great-nieces and great-nephews to enjoy racial equality, our younger neighbors to benefit from affordable, sustaining healthcare, our older neighbors to enjoy retirement and healthcare through social security, medicare and their choice of medicare supplemental plans. the list of possibilities is lengthy and the GOP – which is self-destructing – tries to misrepresent what is possible, tries to evade real questions about project 2025 and agenda 47 intentions, tries to bully their way in their desire to push the populace into a dark cave.

but we are alive and we are voiced and we have energy and stamina and longevity.

DeeNCee Lullabaloo showed up at the right time – to help celebrate the convention and its promise and to remind us to be in the lull, a place of peace and hope, a place of light and joy, a place where we might soak in the wisdom of a higher power – whatever we choose to call that deity.

in our tiny pond DeeNCee will sunbathe and eat bugs, swim and hop – thrive – in freedom.

and in our country, we humans will also thrive – all of us in freedom.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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pure magic. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

it was pure magic.

i had never been in a butterfly house before. the chicago botanic garden has such an exhibit right now and we saved it until last – after all the beautiful gardens and fresh air had zenned us out. if it is possible to sink further into zen than being enfolded in gloriously intentional blooming, this butterfly garden is it.

it isn’t a huge screen enclosure – and they allow limited people in at a time – but it is complete immersion in the magical. enchanting. for two artists who draw inspiration from the outdoors and its gorgeousness, we felt like we could have stayed there for hours.

butterflies were literally everywhere…on the plants, on the screen, on the path and – most delightfully – on us. the first moment a butterfly landed on us felt like you had been chosen for something uniquely special – this fragile creature with wings of scales and chitin (a fibrous protein) supported by a system of veins. nature, indeed. how is this kind of iridescence even possible?

only one other time – that i can remember – did a butterfly land on me. it was shortly after my big brother died and, as this butterfly flitted around me out front in an adirondack chair, i was convinced he was sending me a message. until it landed on me and hung out. then i was sure it was my brother, having converted his life energy temporarily into that of a butterfly. i was astounded and ever so grateful.

this time i was just in complete awe. i felt chosen as a few butterflies lighted on my hands or my arms, one at a time. i spoke quietly to each of them, thanking them for this incredible moment in time…a moment when i was reminded that we are all – butterflies and people – on this good earth together. we are all doing life the very best we can. we are all capable of gorgeous and of making another feel singled out and exceptional.

butterflies in this sanctuary just have to fly around and then land, their visit a thing of softness…a mica moment.

we – as people – can also lift someone, transport them into nirvana … in so many ways. we need remember that. our goodness is not winged, but – with our loving encouragement – others may fly. it’s all pure magic.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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old knobs. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

the drawer-pulls on my old dresser clattered. they were a little bit fancy and made of brass and i can still hear them in my mind – a repetitive clack-clack-clack when i closed the drawer. it was one of those big six-drawer dressers, wide and low with a big mirror in the middle. it was maybe mahogany and in my growing-up house this girl’s dresser-hand-me-down from my sister sat on my orange and green shag rug before i moved it to my first apartment. it wasn’t grossly oversized but it had plenty of space…places for delicates and t-shirts, jeans and shorts and – astoundingly – nothing was wrinkly when i extracted things from the drawers. i think i remember moving it to florida and then, somewhere along the line, it went back to my sister…this time for her little girl.

ahhh…the joy of having a big dresser should not be underestimated. i haven’t had a dresser with six drawers since.

i think of lois every time i open the dresser i have now owned for almost forty years. when she took a teaching job overseas, she gave me this dresser. is is solid, standardly narrow and upright and has five drawers with giant big wooden knobs and i share it with david. as you might suspect, he gets one drawer and i get four. i would venture to say that you might be shuddering to think of trying to fit all your dresser-stuff into four drawers. (not to mention his in one, but, hey, he’s a boyyy so he has significantly less dresser-drawer stuff.). before you get all judge-y, keep in mind, too, we have old-house-closets. any accumulation of clothing – is a challenge.

we went to a giant antique flea market at a neighboring county fairgrounds. there were over 500 vendors and it was ridiculously fun to wander around, reminiscing and laughing at some pretty weird old stuff, some stuff we still have, some stuff about which we had great stories to tell. as you know, antiquing is one of our favorite pastimes and being outdoors and antiquing together…well, a fine pairing.

when i came across the big bin of knobs, i could actually feel them in my hand without even touching them. they were smooth with history and the hands of all who tugged on them, the wood worn and any finish gone. as i stood there looking at them, i could not help but think of all the cabinets or dressers they graced in all their years. i thought about all the ways they have been replaced – contemporized – and the possibility that the pieces they came from – the chifferobe, the cupboard, the desk – may have been disposed of.

in all the years that i have had my dear friend’s dresser, i have thought many times about painting it, redoing it, replacing it, at the least, re-knobbing. i never did any of that. it’s still the same old dresser.

i can’t imagine how many stories this old dresser has in it. just like the dresser up in my son’s room – a hand-me-down from miss peggy from next door thirty plus years ago – i wonder how old these dressers are.

mostly i wonder about the hands that have touched this old knobs. like all the old doorknobs in our house, i see these as diligent and sturdy; they have done their jobs year after year, decade after decade.

the history just danced in the box in front of me. so much potential. so many drawers and doors. i thought about who might purchase that box of knobs, where the old knobs would end up.

and i was suddenly glad that I hadn’t changed the ones on our dresser.

*****

read david’s thoughts this two-artists-tuesday

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