reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


Leave a comment

mini-marshmallows and gogo boots. [merely-a-thought monday]

if you are wondering where mini marshmallows come from, wonder no more. clearly they grow on white baneberry bushes in dr. seuss-land. passing it on the trail i could not get over how oh-the-places-you’ll-go this bush was. a standout in a green forest floor, confidently colorful and nicknamed “doll’s eyes” for obvious vintage-china-doll reasons, it got my attention and it piqued my curiosity.

we watched a silly movie a couple nights ago. my sweet momma loved sandra bullock so every time i watch a sandra bullock movie i feel like my mom is right there with us, giggling or cheering her on. the movie was “all above steve” co-starring bradley cooper. its silliness is comedic fun, particularly on an evening we were not looking to be intellectually challenged. but there was an unexpectedly sweet message in this movie. mary (sandra bullock), a brilliant young woman who is a crossword puzzle constructor and has a brain full of random knowledge and would kick anyone’s patootie playing trivial pursuit, is trying to be “normal” to fit into the world. in the end she discovers the power of standing in her own shoes, which were, in her case, red gogo boots.

artists are often looked at as misfits, a little outside the box, not quite fitting in. perhaps more colorful, perhaps louder, perhaps more questioning, the job of an artist is to elicit movement in thought, in action, in emotion, in sensitivity. we are hot-pink-stemmed mini-marshmallow plants in a world of green underbrush, ever being told that exposure will grant us the ability to live in this world, to pay our bills, to get ahead. artists everywhere under the sun shudder upon hearing those words, “think about the exposure.” we don our courageous metaphoric gogo boots, go to town trying to be ‘normal’ and realize that we were really ok all along, in our own skin.

often i have heard others comment on the re-purposed stuff in our house. empty window frames, screen doors, travel-worn suitcases, branches wrapped in lights, old coffeepots doubling as canisters. we’ve been asked, “how did you think of that?” i don’t know how to answer that other than “how couldn’t i?”

i’m guess i’m not ‘normal’. in the world of christian louboutin and jimmy choo footwear desires, i’m wearing old navy flipflops and hundreds-of-miles hiking boots. in a world of oscar de la renta and ralph lauren aficionados, i’m wearing my dad’s old flannel shirt and jeans. in a world of cle de peau beaute and guerlain and creme de la mer, my face is lucky to see an oil of olay original and coppertone 30spf combo.

and i, just like artists everywhere, love to be reminded, time to time, that we were all born to stand out. each and every one of us. artist or not. no matter the road we walk. no matter the red gogo boots or hot-pink stems. stand out. in our own skin.

mini-marshmallow, anyone?

*****

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


Leave a comment

the fermata. [k.s. friday]

on hold.

the fermata lingers over my days, issuing a pause of length undetermined. the baton is held in the air. there is no downbeat, no pattern of time. just prolonged waiting.

in dr. seuss fashion we wait in the waiting place.

answers are just beyond our grasp, skimming the rim of the atmosphere, invisible to us, ephemeral and flimsy, ever-changing, like trying to capture the flicker of flame from the top of a candle lit in the darkness.

so i just keep waiting. we just keep waiting. our world just keeps waiting.

we sit quietly. we rail at the wind. we speak up. we skirt to the sidelines. we ask questions. we wonder. we are met with silence. we are dissolved. we seek fairness, equity. there is none of that. we step away from the noise. it follows us, snapping at our ankles. we do good work. we seek truth. we are managed, a place of hypocrisy. our country flails. we flail.

and we wait. knowing that, indeed, better will come. knowing that, in some measures, new will come. knowing that, after the fermata, light will come. grieving all we have lost in the process, in the journey, in the waiting place.

we are holding.

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

purchase music to download from iTUNES


Leave a comment

eighth rest. broken wrists. waiting. [k.s. friday]

waiting eighth rest

“the waiting place….for people just waiting. 

waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go or the mail to come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow or waiting around for a yes or no or waiting for their hair to grow.  everyone is just waiting.  waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite or waiting around for friday night or waiting, perhaps, for their uncle jake or a pot to boil, or a better break or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants or a wig with curls, or another chance.  everyone is just waiting.

somehow you’ll escape all that waiting and staying.  you’ll find the bright places where boom bands are playing.  with banner flip-flapping once more you’ll ride high!  ready for anything under the sky.  ready because you’re that kind of a guy! 

oh, the places you’ll go!”

(dr. seuss)

an eighth rest.  these two broken wrists are down from a quarter rest to an eighth rest. and waiting.

we are all waiting.  for hours, days, weeks to go by.  for healing.  we are biding time.  on hold.  on eighth-rest-repeat.

eighth rest repeat

and in that vast biding of time we are maybe finding that some of the things we have busied ourselves with don’t count as much.  and some count more.  maybe our time of waiting will reveal to us that which is most important.  maybe it will be a time of needed rest.  a time of slowing down.  a time of subito tacet.  a time of honoring those who truly help us.  a time of quiet conversation, of learning new things, of disassembled notes gathering together from their places in the stars to form a new song.

we wait.  and we don’t know when the waiting will stop.  but oh, during this waiting, and after the stand-still-pause is over, oh, the places we will go.

download WAITING on iTUNES or CDBaby

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

shadows in snowy woods website box

WAITING ©️ 2004 kerri sherwood

 

 

 

 


Leave a comment

face the sun. [d.r. thursday]

FaceTheSun copy

FACE THE SUN mixed media 18″ x 24″

we are a lot like babycat.  we seek the sun.

we wait – impatiently – for the mornings we can sit outside against the house facing the sun with our coffee.  we hike in our magical bristol woods and sit in the nature megaphone, out of the wind, facing the sun.  we have sat on mountaintops facing the sun and on rocks beside the lake facing the sun.  in canoes facing the sun and on pontoon boats facing the sun.  at outdoor cafes facing the sun and squeezing into windowseats facing the sun.  on the deck facing the sun and in the dirt of the trail facing the sun.  on the beach facing the sun and by the pool facing the sun.  we sit on adirondack chairs that we move around the yard facing the sun and we lay in the hammock that we also move around the yard facing the sun.  we are the dr seusses of ‘facing the sun’ lingo.

face the sun

to view this painting FACE THE SUN in the gallery, please click here

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

drc website header copy 2

laughing website box

FACE THE SUN ©️ 2019 david robinson & kerri sherwood


Leave a comment

feet. the places we go. [two artists tuesday]

feet copy

if you scroll through our phone camera log, you will find sooo many of these…pictures of our feet posing, posing, posing, traveling, traveling, traveling.  there are pictures on beaches, in the car, in the woods, in paris, in snow on a-basin, on the train, on the subway, on the gondola, on the pontoon boat, on crab meadow sand, on the trail in telluride and aspen and minturn, in the river in ridgway, in boston, in boca grande, in san francisco, in northport, in columbia, in chicago, in brussels, at the coffeehouse in breckenridge, at the pub in silverton, at the harbor, at the airport, at the waterfront in buffalo, at the park in savannah, at our friends’ houses, at our wedding, at home.  we document our traveling – our lives – with lots of other photos as well, but there is always one of our feet…in frye boots, in sandals, in flipflops, in heels (well, i’m in heels, not d), in hiking boots, barefoot.  i’m not really sure how that started, but it has become an important tradition for us…saving the moment of our experience.

years ago when i was performing upstate ny, there was a guy who had this foot-thing.  he asked after the concert if he could have a photo of my feet (he wanted them either barefooted or socked) on the piano pedals.  uh….no.  i was pretty weirded out, but not as weirded out as i was when he started sending letters to the label (in very very painstakingly-precise penmanship that resembled type from a typewriter) asking for these pictures.  repeatedly.   when i got a thanksgiving card that expressed how thankful he was for “all our times together” and how he “looked forward to all the times to come” i called the authorities.  some things are just too weird.

sometimes i think about that guy when we take pictures of our feet.  yikes.  but oh, i love the places we go.  and i love documenting the steps we take to get us there – into the heart of each memory.

“congratulations! today is your day.  you’re off to great places!  you’re off and away!  you have brains in your head.  you have feet in your shoes.  you can steer yourself any direction you choose.” oh, the places you’ll go (dr. seuss)

if you'd like to see TWO ARTISTS copy

read DAVID’S thoughts on this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY – ON OUR SITE

feet collage image  ©️ 2018 kerri sherwood & david robinson