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.
“..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.
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.
every time we get a text from david or molly with a picture of sweet dawson coloring i believe i see an artist-in-the-making. he is intense, all not-even-two-years-old of him. his crayons seem deliberate choices, his drawing coming from a place inside that beckons him to the paper, the cardboard box, the canvas. it’s innate.
charlie is a second grader. he practices batting every day. he has ground down an area of the backyard so much that seth thinks there will never be grass there again. charlie can cite all the players on the kansas city royals and their stats and he will narrate his own one-person ballgame in the backyard, an announcer with great animation and accurate details. such a small person with such a big passion for the game. it’s innate.
khloe, a teeny but mighty seven year old, would come up to the chancel each week and john would let her play the drum set. she didn’t pound, she didn’t arbitrarily hit drums or cymbals. you could see by the combination of joy on her face and an expression of concentration that she was pretty serious. she has the beat. it’s innate.
when my sweet beth and i talked on the phone she said, “i’m not sure how i feel about her going into music.” she was talking about her older daughter, who already has been cast as the lead in three plays this coming school year. i don’t think she has a choice. for emme, it’s innate.
each of us spokes-in-the-giant-wheel come into this world with something. something that is just ours. ours to do. ours to bring. it’s innate. already in us.
if you’d like your own, your child’s or grandchild’s handprints or would like an I CAME INTO THIS WORLD product to read BASEBALL or SOCCER or READING or anything else, we are offering a new option – designing for you and personalizing your own product line. please click on the product collage boxes above to access information about personalizing.
we have a new frog in our pond! two actually. this feels like perfect timing for us; we needed the good sign of a frog in our midst. both of these frogs are different than previous pond-frogs we have had in past years; these two are leggier, less body and more frog-legs. we’ve named the bigger one ripple and the little one pebble. neither comes when we call their names, but ripple is not as shy as pebble. we’ve advanced toward the pond and pebble will dive right in before we get close, but ripple sits quietly on one of the rocks and waits. when he (or she) eventually dives in, it’s with a flourish and we get to see the concentric circles that spread outward, which is where it got its name.
it’s where we sit in our belief – as artists, as people – that the concentric circles spread outward from the center. the only place from which we can really make a difference. any difference. it hearkens back to my sweet momma…her very core believing that all should start (and end) with being kind. on her website www.beakysbooks.com is quoted mr. fred rogers, “there are three ways to ultimate success. the first way is to be kind. the second way is to be kind. the third way is to be kind.” it’s how she lived. she would point to her life and asked what she had accomplished. greatness. she accomplished greatness. because she spread kindness. out and out and out it went, the ever-widening rings into the world.
it doesn’t seem that complicated. it doesn’t take wealth or a super pac or any kind of grandeur to accomplish. it is simple. basic. in the words of john wesley, “do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can.” or my sweet momma’s favorite verse, ” i shall pass through this world but once. any good therefore that i can do or any kindness that i can show to any human being, let me do it now. let me not defer or neglect it, for i shall not pass this way again.”(stephen grellet) or from the dalai lama, “be kind whenever possible. it is always possible.” right at the center, right where ripple quietly sits before the great hop – right before we move or speak or rebel or undermine or chasten or deflate or insult – is the place where we can choose to be kind.
we have a new frog in our pond! two actually. this feels like perfect timing for us; we needed the good sign of a frog in our midst. both of these frogs are different than previous pond-frogs we have had in past years; these two are leggier, less body and more frog-legs. we’ve named the bigger one ripple and the little one pebble. neither comes when we call their names, but ripple is not as shy as pebble. we’ve advanced toward the pond and pebble will dive right in before we get close, but ripple sits quietly on one of the rocks and waits. when he (or she) eventually dives in, it’s with a flourish and we get to see the concentric circles that spread outward, which is where it got its name.
it’s where we sit in our belief – as artists, as people – that the concentric circles spread outward from the center. the only place from which we can really make a difference. any difference. it hearkens back to my sweet momma…her very core believing that all should start (and end) with being kind. on her website www.beakysbooks.com is quoted mr. fred rogers, “there are three ways to ultimate success. the first way is to be kind. the second way is to be kind. the third way is to be kind.” it’s how she lived. she would point to her life and asked what she had accomplished. greatness. she accomplished greatness. because she spread kindness. out and out and out it went, the ever-widening rings into the world.
it doesn’t seem that complicated. it doesn’t take wealth or a super pac or any kind of grandeur to accomplish. it is simple. basic. in the words of john wesley, “do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can.” or my sweet momma’s favorite verse, ” i shall pass through this world but once. any good therefore that i can do or any kindness that i can show to any human being, let me do it now. let me not defer or neglect it, for i shall not pass this way again.”(stephen grellet) or from the dalai lama, “be kind whenever possible. it is always possible.” right at the center, right where ripple quietly sits before the great hop – right before we move or speak or rebel or undermine or chasten or deflate or insult – is the place where we can choose to be kind.
we have a new frog in our pond! two actually. this feels like perfect timing for us; we needed the good sign of a frog in our midst. both of these frogs are different than previous pond-frogs we have had in past years; these two are leggier, less body and more frog-legs. we’ve named the bigger one ripple and the little one pebble. neither comes when we call their names, but ripple is not as shy as pebble. we’ve advanced toward the pond and pebble will dive right in before we get close, but ripple sits quietly on one of the rocks and waits. when he (or she) eventually dives in, it’s with a flourish and we get to see the concentric circles that spread outward, which is where it got its name.
it’s where we sit in our belief – as artists, as people – that the concentric circles spread outward from the center. the only place from which we can really make a difference. any difference. it hearkens back to my sweet momma…her very core believing that all should start (and end) with being kind. on her website www.beakysbooks.com is quoted mr. fred rogers, “there are three ways to ultimate success. the first way is to be kind. the second way is to be kind. the third way is to be kind.” it’s how she lived. she would point to her life and asked what she had accomplished. greatness. she accomplished greatness. because she spread kindness. out and out and out it went, the ever-widening rings into the world.
it doesn’t seem that complicated. it doesn’t take wealth or a super pac or any kind of grandeur to accomplish. it is simple. basic. in the words of john wesley, “do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can.” or my sweet momma’s favorite verse, ” i shall pass through this world but once. any good therefore that i can do or any kindness that i can show to any human being, let me do it now. let me not defer or neglect it, for i shall not pass this way again.”(stephen grellet) or from the dalai lama, “be kind whenever possible. it is always possible.” right at the center, right where ripple quietly sits before the great hop – right before we move or speak or rebel or undermine or chasten or deflate or insult – is the place where we can choose to be kind.
we have bought our share of throw pillows. different fabrics and patterns from target, from department stores, they have been at various price points. and they are great accent pieces on the couch or the wicker chair where we are hiding the wicker that babycat has torn off with the combination of a throw blanket and throw pillow (of course, if you see the chair from the back, it’s pretty clear what has happened there.)
recently, the newest design within reach catalog arrived. now, that is a great catalog. clean lines, a store (brick and mortar as well as catalog and online presence) that is dedicated to their designers and design services. so the “design” part of their name i agree with. it’s the “within reach” part that gets me. i flipped through the catalog, admiring the white space and the simple fonts, the brief snippet stories about their designers, and came to pages 50 and 51. six columns of throw pillows greeted me across the spread and a “save 15% during the living room sale.”
catalog page
the pillows ranged (retail price, without the sale) from $95 up to $295. at this point in our life, it’s not in our budget to spend even $95-15%=$80.75 on a throw pillow. yes, i grant you that there are people who absolutely can afford that. but i must say, that on the day i wouldn’t have to think twice about a $295 throw pillow, it would have to be hand-painted by our (potential) grandchild for me to buy it.
when i have been working on the designs for products that are inspired by david’s paintings, i have been aware of and have worried about the pricing. (that is something we think about a lot for those people who are interested in purchasing these designs and other products that are printed on demand – one at a time.) on the society6.com site, throw pillows range from $29.99-$44.99 for indoor pillows or outdoor pillows for your deck or patio. with their often 30% off sale, it brings that down to about $21-32. i mention all these specifics because those prices seem more “within reach” to me, and not mass-produced or mass-marketed through a large company. it is entirely possible to have the only pillow in the world with the design you have chosen. but, that is also the peril of many artists – the inability to reach the masses.
even with however cool it is to say that you own a design within reach throw pillow, i just want to say that each time i see one of the rendered pillows with the chosen david-painting-morsel on it, i have wanted to purchase it, put the pillow-painting on our couch and show others that beautiful art doesn’t just have to be on the wall.
and so, with the arrival of new catalogs as fall shopping approaches, i thought a pillow collage was in order – just in case you missed the pillows along the way. besides, if design within reach can do a throw-pillow-collage, so can i. 😉
probably one of my favorite photos of graffiti i’ve taken, i found this sprayed on the wall of a building in tuscany years ago. i thought it was kind of lofty then and i think it is lofty now. living without fear seems next to impossible. how can one be that brave?
there’s this song we sing in the band called only the brave (t.hughes, m.smith, n.herbert). we just sang it a couple days ago along with our ukulele band. the first line, “this is the moment, this is why i’m living to face the giants with you…” who is the You in your life? the vastly abundant magnificent Love you may call God? your partner? your best friend? your mom? someone of this earth? a spirit-filled presence? the song continues, “it’s now or never, and though my heart is racing, i’ll leave my armor with you. your love makes us stronger, and your love sees us through. only the brave will go where you go, into the fire but never alone. we know you’ll always carry us home; only the brave….”
as i get older, i find myself in this sliver of a space between fear and no fear. a quandary of emotion. i look back at all the things that made me quiver, the things that ate away at time itself and i realize that maybe, just maybe i had been just a teensy bit braver than i thought. i look at right now and worry; i look ahead and worry. am i brave enough? will i be brave enough? life has a way of presenting challenges right alongside bliss.
i find that words i had written in a post three years ago – a post about being brave – speak to me now and so i’m just going to copy and paste them here:
we face down our fears, we risk our dreams, we forgive without being forgiven, we acknowledge our disappointments, we are given grace in our mistakes, we plod on, we face the sun, we scurry through the rain, we feel our way through the fog, we celebrate the moment without investing in the whole day, we love without ceasing.
along with the portable record player we take out on the deck, we have the you-remember-the-case-with-the-handle box of 45’s. with titles like sugar sugar and IOU and julie do you love me and….the side A of these records are the likely hits. but if you turn it over and play side B you can often be surprised by a song you like even more than the touted “side A” song.
when david brought up this canvas to photograph the painting on the front side, i was reminded of what we had seen when 20 so generously gave d a slew of his dad’s canvases. on the side B, his artist dad (richard “duke” kruse) had written, “welcome to the 21st century” on the back of the canvas he had so meticulously stretched. we laughed when we first saw it, but it remains a mystery as to why he wrote it; we can only guess…maybe he was bemoaning the loss of something of the 20th century; maybe he was truly welcoming the next. either way, we get it. we are both 20th century artists.
as a painter, david uses actual brushes to apply actual paint to actual canvas, a process that doesn’t necessarily need explanation, but, in the 21st century art world, isn’t necessarily always the trend. with computer design and sketchpads -aka graphics tablets- the feel of bristles can become foreign to a contemporary artist. what about the smell of the paint? the light from the window on the canvas? the spatter of acrylic matte medium on your clothes? the wooden brush handle in your hand?
as a composer, i use paper and pencils and erasers and a piano. i have a couple of keyboards that have traveled all over with me, but the piano that takes up an entire room in our house is my tool of choice. it is stunning how much time it took me to write a full score way back in college compared to the ease of scoring on the computer. if i made a mistake on the score, i had to -with my pencil and then calligraphy pen- redo the whole page. then i had to write out all the parts individually. the 21st century has advanced the ability to have a computer generate all the individual parts off one score that is online. pretty amazing and time-saving stuff. not to mention the “playing” factor. the computer program will “play” the part you write; you don’t have to. but what about all the pencil eraser dust that falls on the keys of the piano? what about the scraps of paper spread out all over the top? what about the feel of the action below your hands, the response, the whooshing sound of the pedal?
acoustic vs plugged-in, analog vs digital. kind of old-fashioned. that’s probably why i like to sit in one of the rocking chairs in david’s studio and just watch. and why he will come into my studio and just listen. we don’t need a lot of fancy stuff. he just wants to hang his paintings and i just want to sit at a piano on a stage with a single mic. pretty 20th century.