reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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teasel tease. [d.r. thursday]

“if left unchecked, teasel can form large dense patches and severely impact a habitat planting. teasel can be very difficult to manage because once established it pollutes the soil with durable seed that can germinate throughout the growing season.” (plantscience.psu.edu)

“leaves have spines on the underside of the midvein and smaller spines on bases on the upper leaf surface. the stem leaves are opposite and prickly, especially on the lower side of the leaf midvein.” (nwcb.wa.gov)

“handling teasel is best done with heavy gloves, every part of the plant is prickly to the point of piercing human skin.” (fairegarden.wordpress.com)

“once teasels become established in an area, they are hard to eradicate.” (fllt.org)

“if left unchecked, teasel quickly can form large monocultures excluding all native vegetation.” (illinois.edu)

if left unchecked…

it would seem these teasel beg the metaphoric reference to people within communities. it is no wonder – in these times – that my mind immediately goes there.

but teasels are beautiful, with interesting texture. like the flat-back-hand-carder for the vintage spinning wheel in our basement that cards wool or raises the nap on fabric, they were utilized for decades and were initially cultivated from the old world. they appear in planted gardens for their dominant sculptural presence and in meadows, growing wild and free.

on a quest – every day – to take photographs, i find myself back at 18. i was given my first 35mm camera when i graduated from high school early, my parents pretty certain i would love it. i did. i was out the next day, walking the beach in winter, reveling in capturing it all. i took that camera everywhere and took pictures of everything, reveling in the freedom of aperture and shutter speed. the deliberate taking of photographs brings one to center, into presence – there is no need for speed. instead, it is about slow movement, about noticing, about paying attention.

and i am – lately – feeling a tad bit back-there. at 18. the tiny lone flower, the shadow, the curl of bark – they get my attention. i pause.

these teasel stopped me. there was a teasing tension between their color, their thorns, the sky, the pine trees in the background. the juxtaposition of the bristle and the luminous. beautiful. i, too, couldn’t resist the teasel.

“despite its noxiousness, it’s impossible not to find the teasel rather endearing…” (jacqueline stuhmiller, fllt.org)

one just needs remember the thorns.

be wary. don’t hug a teasel.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

check out DAVID’s beautiful (and ever-evolving) new gallery site


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the horizon! the horizon! [k.s. friday]

like 7th chords vs major 7th chords, some things are irrefutable. the horizon is one of them.

each and every time i take a photograph i can hear crunch in my ear, “the horizon! the horizon!”. decades have passed and i still will look at my photographs post-snap and evaluate the horizon and its relationship in the whole image. post-click i will think, “ahh, crunch would like this one!” and i’ve considered time and again to send it on to this person who has instilled his words in my head from years of taking sunrise and sunset pictures out on long island sound, on the beaches, in the boat, in-between fishing or diving adventures. there is nothing like a sunrise over the water with a crooked horizon. if one has to tilt one’s head to the side to accommodate the degree of angle of horizon, crunch -and i, now – have no forgiveness.

it’s how i feel about dominant 7th chords (using the minor 7th). i find them cringe-worthy. overused and trite, i have, many-a-time, tossed out, “major7th! major7th!” to others, much like crunch’s “the horizon!” admonishment. it’s used as a resolution pass, moving to another chord (usually a fifth below, but that’s too much information for right here). suffice it to say, we all have our quirks, the things that make us grimace or make our eyes twitch.

the gallery where david’s piece “unfettered” is showing is right on the water. the center is filled with delicious light and warm wood floors and white walls and white woodwork. it is a gorgeous place, a mecca for an eye seeking tiny morsels of photo-worthy images. i wander through, admiring pieces of the opening show and taking pictures of the space.

but i am reminded of the huge art expo we attended in chicago. winning – and mightily expensive – exhibits included jute strung across the booth with a kitchen sponge painted blue hanging from a clothespin. this was for sale for literally thousands of dollars and there were curators/representatives/dealers in the booth – those who would privately shake their heads in astonishment, giggling all the way to the bank – who would happily explain its meaning to you. perhaps i am a bit jaded – by looped recordings and garage band and auto-tune and acrobatics and the machinations of the music industry – but i have to admit that, while there were fancily-clothed-people gathered around seemingly breathless-with-anticipation, i did not stick around for the explanation. like the emperor with his new clothes, the oh-i-MUST-have-it crowd amused me and i could hear crunch in my head, “the horizon! the horizon!”.

one of my favorite experiences – albeit adding to my cynicism – was attending a talk given by a curator at chicago’s institute of art. she was speaking about the work of christopher wool and she was giddy that he was present. she had developed wordy narrative all around his work, describing his temperament, his mood swings, his supposed depression. his work is pretty blatant; he uses words and images to speak to or portray conceptual ideas. referencing one particular piece, she spoke about how his dark depression contributed to his art. she glanced over at him as he made a gesture to speak and invited his-own-perception of his-own-work, a photograph. i could see his tic from our seats. “i just thought it was a cool shot,” he interjected into her soliloquy on the spectrum of his personality. the audience laughed and i breathed a sigh of relief. some 7th chords are just overused, overplayed, over-analyzed.

i’m wondering about stringing up some jute in the sunroom and hanging this week’s scotch-brite.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY


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the gallery on my phone. [two artists tuesday]

the gallery on my phone: there are photos of any minutes any where with or of my children. there are photos of trails and woods and my husband’s face and heart-shaped leaves. there are photos of dogdog and babycat, family, friends, photos of wildflowers, bushes, gardens and happy lights, recipes, screenshots of funny snapchat-filtered faces, cairns, and mountains, lots of mountains. there are photos of our feet, laughter, redrock and snowmen, lakes and oceans, streams and frozen ponds, birds and butterflies and preserved text messages, trail magic greenery, sunrises and sunsets, the sun and the moon. there are photos in the united states and photos abroad. photos in canoes and fishing skiffs, on pontoon boats and stand-up boards, riding ice-cutting ferries. there are photos of pianos and pipes and pumpkins, wooden stages, stages of rock, prickly cactus and my casts. there are quaking aspens and forests of pine, wizened old trees, towering oaks and radiant maples, highways and back roads. there are squirrels and deer, raccoons, horses and heart-shaped rocks. there are snow pictures and desert pictures, sandy pictures and muddy pictures, city skylines and small town main streets, wine glasses, thoughtfully-prepared meals, candles burning, bonfires, and masks littering the ground iso faces. there are tree stumps, tree trunks and bark and branches, interesting shapes, shadows, buildings, sayings emblazoned anywhere, articles to remember to read later, signs and designs, horsehoof and deer and bunny tracks, and heart-shaped designs that waited in the dirt, in the snow, in rock formations.

there are thousands of photographs. thousands.

i look back on them often. there are times i will select a whole bunch and transfer them over to my laptop so that i can print them and put them up on a bulletin board in our hallway or on the big piece of tin in the kitchen or frame them for one of the flat surfaces that doesn’t already have a photograph. but mostly, i look back on them to spend time – again – right there.

right now, in a country devastated by a raging pandemic and out-of-control political chaos and violence, in a town riddled with inordinately tough emotional disparity and a lack of social justice over the district attorney’s ruling in a case involving a police officer who shot a black man in the back seven times, now on the outermost fringes of what was an up-close-and-personal community lacking transparency to its members, in sadness and angst, i need to be back there.

back with people i love who love me back.

back at places that brought me peace or laughter, challenged me or rewarded me with a sense of calm.

back where every heart is noticed, whosever it is, wherever it is, even whether it be a rock, a leaf, a knot in a tree in the woods, or the funny way that the ice melted on the deck.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY


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iconic. yoga series. [d.r. thursday]

David RobinsonYoga Series 7 copy.jpg

when we were first talking, we discovered we were both artists.  he – a painter.  me – well, you already know that part.  we were far apart in distance so we did not see each other or the work of the other in person.  he didn’t come to any of my concerts.  i didn’t go to his gallery openings.  but….there is this thing called the internet.

it was with much curiosity that i sat down to view his paintings.  i wondered about his style, his choice of color, the movement in his paintings, the emotion.  our budding friendship would not be dependent upon whether or not i liked them, or even understood them.  but i must say – in all honesty – that it was incredibly convenient to find that i LOVE his paintings.  i love his style, his choice of color, the movement in his paintings, the emotion.

this painting, ICONIC, was the first large painting in his YOGA SERIES.  full of grace and the expression of inner peace, ICONIC is stunningly big (54″ x 54″), a statement piece that i have no doubt will soon grace the wall of the owner who hasn’t found it yet.

anyone who has purchased an actual painting – not a print or facsimile of some sort – knows that it is a relationship that develops, that the owner and the painting find each other, that it is not merely a purchase.  it is the bringing home of a piece of someone else’s heart.  the hanging-on-the-wall of someone else’s heart.  or, in the case of music, as i well know, the listening to of someone else’s heart.

iconic:  that which can trigger emotion.  yes.

view or purchase ICONIC in david’s online gallery

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

BootsWeddingBoots website box

ICONIC ©️ 2010 david robinson


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these paintings.

EarthInterrupted2 copy

50 % OFF ALL PAINTINGS SALE

it’s a great space – d’s studio.  i’ve talked about how i spend time down there…in a rocking chair, drinking coffee or wine, watching or talking or gazing at paintings:  canvas he painted long before i knew him, finished canvas that have images i watched evolve, gesso-ed canvas on an easel, canvas pinned to the wall in-the-middle-of-its-story.  i love these paintings and feel fortunate to love the work of the man i love.

we both have chosen an independent route in our respective artistry.  that’s not the easy choice.  (think:  how many people try out for american idol across this country, how many people choose to do their painting ‘on the side’ as they also day-job.)  our “galleries” of work are not mediated or machinated or led or thrust forward by the work of anyone but ourselves and our generous friends, family and people who believe in us.

as i mentioned in a post yesterday, we are coming up on five years together and are offering heart opportunities.  this one is to help match paintings with people who hold them in their heart, who wish to have them.  sometimes, as we all know, it is hard to justify what we wish for.  with this 50% sale on all of david’s gallery of paintings, we hope to make these more accessible to the people who want them.  that way, you, too, can sit in a rocking chair, drink coffee or wine (or cocoa or tea) and gaze at one of these beautiful paintings.

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here are a few examples of the paintings i love

EmbracedNow

NewMother copy

SharedFatherhood2 copy 2

I will hold you copy

Woman With Dog copy

InQuietPrayer10.25 copy

Prayer copy 2

earthInterruptedI copy

 


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we don’t do this alone

50% OFF ALL PAINTINGS ON DAVIDROBINSONCREATIVE.COM

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David asked me what I would do with a tax refund, were we to be getting one. I answered that I would want to do something special. Go somewhere or purchase something I have wanted for our home for a long time. It’s always a piece of art or something that evokes emotion in me that pulls at my heart and my purse strings. So often I have said, “I wish…”

Individually and together we have heard those same words “I wish…” from people who have connected to one of these paintings, a piece they would cherish in their home or a space important to them.  We are grateful when David’s paintings find such homes.

We are celebrating five years together soon and think this is a perfect time to pass along heart opportunities: connecting paintings to the hearts who love them.  So we are offering an opportunity to you at a time that is so important to us.

We want these paintings to be with the people who wish to have them AND we need more studio space to welcome new work.  In a society of sales-minded shoppers, we asked ourselves, “Why should a gallery be any different than any other business?”

So we are having a sale. A big sale. 50% off any painting on the gallery site. (through april 22.  naturally, plus tax and shipping, if we are shipping the painting to you.)

Go browse.  If you are already connected to a painting or your heart connects anew, email us through the contact page on his site (or call us or text us.)  We will get in touch as soon as possible and work out the details with you.

Know that we appreciate you, your enthusiam, your sharing and support of the work we do.  We know that we don’t do this work alone.  Thank you.  From our hearts.

cropped head kiss copy

 

 


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pass it forward…

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david robinson at zatista.com


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picture it.

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david robinson at zatista.com


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bookmark it.

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bookmark it.  because there’s always more to come.

david robinson at zatista.com


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walk the gallery.

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david robinson at zatista.com