reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


by Leave a comment

two artists tuesday #2

card with frame be kind jpegmy 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  if kindness superceded competition and agenda and reactionary anger and brazen cruelty.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 melange two artist tuesday.

BE KIN/BE KIND MERCHANDISE

mug BeKind

TWO ARTIST TUESDAY

www.kerrianddavid.com/the-melange

check out DAVID’S thoughts on this TWO ARTIST TUESDAY

framed printBeKind

be kind tote bag

be kind. ©️ 2016  kerri sherwood & david robinson


by Leave a comment

chicken marsala monday #2

juststart jpeg copymy 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.

just start.

chicken just start mugSOMETIMES THE BEST THING TO DO IS START merchandise

chicken marsala monday

kerrianddavid.com/the-melange

check out DAVID’s thoughts on this CHICKEN NUGGET

chicken just start framed print

 

sometimes the best thing to do is start

©️ 2016 david robinson & kerri sherwood


by 2 Comments

ks friday #1

slow dance single jacketi 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.  ASATS copy

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?

 

SLOW DANCE from the album AS SURE AS THE SUN (track 3)

KS friday

www.kerrisherwood.com

www.kerrianddavid.com/the-melange

SLOW DANCE from AS SURE AS THE SUN ©️ 2002 kerri sherwood


by Leave a comment

dr thursday #1

EmbracedNow

held in grace:  embraced now – mixed media  48″ x 36″

this.  this feeling.  this painting.

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.

HELD IN GRACE: EMBRACED NOW – the painting

HELD IN GRACE: EMBRACED NOW – reproductions

DR thursday

www.kerrianddavid.com/the-melange

held in grace: embraced now ©️ 2017 david robinson


by Leave a comment

flawed cartoon wednesday #1

wienerdogsledcorrectspellingJPG copywednesday 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.

WIENER DOG SLED

FLAWED cartoon wednesday

www.kerrianddavid.com/the-melange

wiener dog sled ©️ 2016 david robinson & kerri sherwood


by Leave a comment

two artists tuesday #1

SWEET POTATO copyvery 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.

thank you, my sweet momma.

LIVE LIFE, MY SWEET POTATO

two artists tuesday

www.kerrianddavid.com/the-melange

live life, my sweet potato ©️ 2016 kerri sherwood & david robinson


by Leave a comment

chicken marsala monday #1

love needs no words jpeg copy 2we 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.

www.kerrianddavid.com/the-melange

love needs no words ©️ 2016 david robinson & kerri sherwood


by 2 Comments

#MeToo

Screen Shot 2017-12-27 at 5.10.57 PM 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.

 


by Leave a comment

after the first half of the concert.

bcatForgetTheFirstHalfwe went to a concert a week ago or so. it was a group of us and we were all excited about going. the band we were going to see is creative, talented, sincere and full of energy. what’s not to like about that?!

we caravanned in three cars. well, we dan-a-vanned, actually, with dan leading the way. he is a GPS guru and, if you can keep up with him on the highway, a great person to follow going somewhere.

we got there, full of anticipation and excitement. sat in seats one row from the very top, able to look out at the whole audience. many of us have gone to concerts together before; we try to do fun stuff especially as the winter sets in.  we laugh a lot and that is a very good thing.

the concert started with an infomercial….on video and a live push as well. i thought perhaps that was it….one infomercial is plenty when you have purchased tickets to an event that is not a fundraiser. but that wasn’t the case. with the exception of two warm-up artists who played maybe 3 songs each, the whole first half of the concert was full of infomercial preaching and over-done talk-talk.

by the time we got to intermission, it was easy to be annoyed. the first half of the concert was over. we hadn’t seen the band we had come to see yet and now we had sat through what seemed to be agenda….i have yet to figure out why this was so. what symbiotic relationship is there between these infomercials and the band we were there to see? do these organizations host the whole concert tour? do they underwrite the concerts in venues of their choosing?  do they play the band’s music? no matter how dedicated the band is to these efforts, was it appropriate to take up most of the first half of this concert with this rhetoric? i was sitting in my concert-seat trying to figure out this stuff. is that where the band would want me to start?

so now, here we are, at the second half. and i have to say, i am not “feelin’ the love.” it took me a good portion of the second half to get back to open-hearted listening of this concert, to actually hear the music and embrace it.

because: the band concert i had come to see was colored by the first half of the concert.

and then – there’s life.

wow. i can’t think of a better metaphor than this concert.

WE are colored by the first half, the first part, the beginning and middle of life as we step into the Next of life. “of course we are,” you say aloud to me. cognitively we totally get it. we shouldn’t bring into Next what colored us from Before. we have to draw the line in the sand. lessons – yes. anger, frustrations, disappointments, prejudices – no. each Next is a fresh start.  for that matter, yes, each new day is a fresh start.

d and i have been doing a meditation that was offered free with oprah and deepak. it has been about awareness and making every moment matter. now, i am all about moments (that whole thready thing and all.)  but awareness is a much bigger responsibility than we realize.  it’s so much easier to react than to stop for a few seconds (or however long it takes) and be aware. sometimes i find i should Stop longer than i stop.  awareness can be slowww in arriving, particularly if i stubbornly hold onto all the negative stuff.  we sometimes cling to that stuff as if it were a lifevest.

now…i am thinking:  in those moments, when i can feel myself reacting (strongly or negatively or angrily or with preformed disposition) to something, i realize (metaphorically) that i am at the (in-real-life) concert and i am looking at the second half through first-half-eyes. it is becoming an amazing tool for me to stop and think – what about the first half of the concert is getting under my skin for this Next?  am i aware that the second half can be even just moments after the first half?  it’s not always years or decades that separates Before from Next.  it can be minutes.   it’s shocking how blind we can be to what we carry forward, one minute to the Next.

the Next is full of good and hope and moments and not-what’s-lost-but-what-is-still-there-ness (thank you, ptom). stepping over the limen, the threshold, is necessary.  leaving behind the first half of the concert, the part that colors us and clouds our clear-eyed-hopeful-stepping-into the second half, is absolute.

holding on, letting go

itunes: kerri sherwood


by Leave a comment

always an honor.

img_3625.jpgi played for a funeral today. the family celebrated the life of a beautiful young woman who i didn’t know, but who, through the stories told, sounded lovely. the sanctuary was full and boxes of tissues were numerous throughout the pews. my heart hurt for them; i was upstairs in the balcony, separated from this family, but joined in the feeling of what grief can do.

someone asked me if it was hard to play for funerals, if i would prefer not to. completely opposite of that, i am honored to play for a funeral. it is the last public celebration of someone’s life; it is sobering to think that you can play a part in maybe, just maybe, providing something that might be comforting to people in pain. as a minister of music i often play for funerals and for weddings as well; both are gifts, reminders of holding on to the people we love, letting these people know we love them. trite, maybe. but sitting in a balcony gazing down at those who have gathered to celebrate the coming-together of two lives or the time a person has spent in their midst cuts to the core of my soul and i always find myself weeping. i am fortunate to work with an amazing pastor whose extra-tall physical presence belies his soft heart. his voice cracks in emotional response in these difficult times. i feel lucky to be around someone who has so much empathy and compassion; our world truly needs more pToms.

years ago i played for my brother’s funeral. in recent years, my dad’s and my sweet momma’s. they were devastatingly hard to play for, but i wouldn’t have had it any other way. i chose music i knew my dad and my mom would want, hymns that were their personal favorites, melody and lyrics that have meant something to them. i played a song i wrote for each of them. it was an unbelievable honor to have this important role in the celebration of their lives.

IMG_3812

my big bro and me. way too long ago.

today is my big brother’s birthday. wayne would have been 67 today.  i have often spoken of him in my writings. i don’t think there is a day that goes by without my thinking of him. i miss him. i say that each year. it never changes. grief is like that. it’s just there. the desperate moments, well, they ease up. but the i-wish-he-was-here moments – they keep coming.

today i sat on the organ bench and, in a moment of overwhelm, dug my phone out of my bag. i texted d…that this young woman was so…young. and that it took my breath away. it made me want to hug both of my children that very moment. impossible, with the girl in the middle of a move from one mountain range to another, and the boy in the middle of a beautiful boston day. so i texted d, who i knew understood all the layers of heart that playing for this service today touched. hard. not my favorite thing to do. but always, always an honor.