several people lately have asked us what we meant by “products”…the “products” we were designing to go along with our blog post images. many of you may have noticed these product bars on our blogs each day. we understand that not everyone has seen these or understood our intent. we have been seeking the easiest way to present these products as options and so we listen to each suggestion we get.
there is sure a lot of fodder in our studios: paintings, music, cartoons, graphic images, photographs, writings…a melange of our work. it’s fun (and necessary) for us to turn all of this into a line of things that are purchase-able: wall art, tote bags, mugs, leggings, throw pillows, home accessories. i love the design work and have learned so much in the process!
we thank each of you who have taken a look at the sites where these are available (we have five storefronts on society6.com.) we have been told and have seen firsthand that our designed products that society6.com ship are of good quality and they stand behind them if you are not pleased. if you have any questions, please let us know. we appreciate you so much.
this week’s product line links are right below. the link brings you to one of the products in that line on society6.com. if you scroll down the page a little, it will say “also available as” so you can see the image in its varying iterations.
The Boy is sometimes very wise. there is this moment from years ago i carry with me, a moment in the kitchen. i was particularly upset and had been for some time. it was a time of darkness for me. my son looked at me and said (words to the effect), “mom. you are going round and round in a circle. every time you get close to the top you get pulled back down into the circle. you need to be a ray.”
as a math person, the circle and ray analogies are good ones. i can visualize these. the circle, the cycle. and a ray makes sense. starting at one point and going ever-outward. never returning to the very initial point again.
as a sun person, the ray is also good. it brings beautiful images of streaming sun through the clouds, of warmth and light. a ray always brings light; it gives light. it is light.
good words, my beautiful son. yes, indeed. be a ray. shine.
we sit for hours, plotting, scheduling, designing products, writing, working out technology quirks (or not.) somewhere in the middle of 8-10 hours, we will look at each other, glazed. “coffee!” we chorus. we move into the kitchen, maybe outside if it is warm and if that spot on the deck where we lean against the house is sunny. (it’s only april – it could still snow, so the outdoor furniture is not yet in place.) just a little moving around helps and then we are back working.
but at the end of the day – that’s a different story. we are tired, but we have to move. we have to walk. anywhere. around the hood, along the lake, out in the county in the woods. it’s amazing how much more energy i have after hiking a few miles. moving begets moving.
i’m thinking that’s true in many ways. learning begets learning. opening our minds begets, yes, more opening of our minds. faith begets faith. working out begets more working out. it’s the starting that makes it all happen. don’t wait. move.
jen and brad have been taking dance lessons for months. their daughter is getting married in a couple of weeks and they want to celebrate-dance under the warm savannah night sky at her reception. they have been dedicated to this; their lessons are top priority in their social calendar. from what we can see, their commitment has morphed from we-need-to-be-able-to-dance-well-together to we-love-this-together. what a gift to see them in their kitchen demonstrating the cool steps they have learned. they are getting polished and are more and more comfortable with various dances (especially “the push-pull,” jen explains.) mostly, they look like they are really having fun. truth be told, we don’t know of anything they have committed to that they haven’t thrown their whole hearts into; they are a picture of enthusiasm. they are a joy in our life.
on the other hand, we will look like bumbling-dancers under this same georgia sky. but that’s not the point. it is rare that you will be the center of attention when you are dancing – only a few times you are a bride and groom or the parents of or in a do-they-give-booby-prizes? dance competition. but we love to dance together. before our wedding, under linda’s (an absolute lover of all dance) tutelage, we learned an irish waltz that will remain one of the stunning moments of our reception in the old southport beachhouse. what happy dance took place that afternoon and night.
i remember many a day or night blissfully dancing with one of my babies in my arms. i even remember dancing around the living room solo or holding babycat. sometimes that was out of delight; sometimes it was in the search for joie de vivre, a yearning for cheer.
we have danced in the front yard, on the deck, in the kitchen in the middle of the night, in church and in airports. it matters not where you dance. as long as you dance. there is wisdom in dancing.
our dog has separation anxiety. he doesn’t cry and whine while we are gone (that we know of) but he gets this incredibly sad why-do-you-want-to-leave-me?? look on his face (see: the dad on my big fat greek wedding) when we get ready to leave to go. anywhere. we feel compelled to tell him, “church. we are going to church.” or “errands. we are going on errands.” (and then we feel we have to explain to our dog-who-loves-to-go-on-errands that it’s too cold in the car for him to wait during this particular set of errands.) we have this running dialogue while we are out, joking about how he is asking babycat if we are “everrrrr coming back” to which babycat sneers at him and calls him names, reminding him that we come back every single time. well, at least we are amusing ourselves.
i have separation anxiety. (ask my children.) but i’m not writing about that kind of separation anxiety. it is about the paintings i have fallen in love with leaving our studio. it’s crazy. that’s the whole point of paintings – to be placed where someone will commune with it and draw from it and love it (like me.) as we continue our virtual gallery sale, i find myself thinking about each of these paintings to which i feel so attached.
and i know that i have to let go. and hope for as many paintings to have-to-leave-us as possible for, as artists, this is how we make a living, this is how we pay our bills, this is how we make a tiny impact in our little corner of the world.
i truly wish for each of you who have pondered an original painting or have purchased one – no matter where you have done so – to be just as in love with it as i feel about david’s.
“don’t let that stop you,” she’d say. “remember the little engine,” he’d say. i grew up with parents who encouraged me to not doubt myself or what i could do. i hope that i made them (and are still making them – even on a different plane of existence) proud.
i watch my own children, The Girl and The Boy, and think they have figured this obstacles-thing out.
The Girl texted me photographs. she was in silverton, a vast expanse of ridiculously rugged mountains. she had (i’m glad i knew about this AFTERwards) snowboarded down these giants. she, literally, dropped off cliffs and boarded down the fresh powder, exhilarated and stoked. her girlfriend said, “we can do it” and they did. omg. amazing stuff! i am filled with awe. and more than a little jealous, in an i-wish-i-could-do-that kind of way. just the sheer chutzpah of it all is at the very heart of don’t-let-that-stop-you-little-engine-ness.
life is interesting. always. and obstacles are always there. they make life more interesting. yup. get stoked. rise to the challenges.
“don’t let that stop you,” she’d say. “remember the little engine,” he’d say. i grew up with parents who encouraged me to not doubt myself or what i could do. i hope that i made them (and are still making them – even on a different plane of existence) proud.
i watch my own children, The Girl and The Boy, and think they have figured this obstacles-thing out.
The Girl texted me photographs. she was in silverton, a vast expanse of ridiculously rugged mountains.
she had (i’m glad i knew about this AFTERwards) snowboarded down these giants. she, literally, dropped off cliffs and boarded down the fresh powder, exhilarated and stoked. her girlfriend said, “we can do it” and they did. omg. amazing stuff! i am filled with awe. and more than a little jealous, in an i-wish-i-could-do-that kind of way. just the sheer chutzpah of it all is at the very heart of don’t-let-that-stop-you-little-engine-ness.
mountain mugs!
life is interesting. always. and obstacles are always there. they make life more interesting. yup. get stoked. rise to the challenges.
faced with the word “brave” as our two artists tuesday image, i flounder with where to start.
very early this morning our dear friend linda left her home to go to chicago to have a cochlear implant. we spent time with her a few evenings ago, as she sorted through hope and fear, what she’s known and the future unknown. one of her greatest passions in life is dancing. she dances to music designed for dance, to music she hears in passing, to music in her head. terrified of losing the ability to hear music post-surgery, she pondered the what-if of not having this done. but her desire to actually be able to hear MORE (more beloved voices, more broadcasted music, more cds out on the deck or in the dance hall) won out and she is on a new journey. she is brave. brave. brave.
my sister just had surgery on her hand to remove a skin cancer. i am grateful and relieved she is healing from this and will likely not have to have any additional treatment. d and i talked about this on a walk the other day. i was weeping openly on the sidewalks in our neighborhood as i spoke about my big brother, who died after a valiant fight with lung cancer, my daddy who was a twelve-year-or-so survivor of lung cancer, my sweet momma who had a double mastectomy for stage four breast cancer at the age of 93. i cannot help but have some fear. who among us is exempt from that? but my big sister was brave and positive and i am determined, as i move forward in life, to be brave as well. in all arenas. on all fronts. d says i am much braver than he is. i’m not sure why he says this, but his words make me feel stronger.
we meet our challenges singlehandedly, we meet our challenges with a world of support, which is sometimes just one living person, one other being. our bravery is fortified by the love of others, by their words of wisdom, by their ability to shift our perspective, even just a little, by our re-defining. for we are not in this alone. we have on our wall in the bedroom a sign that reads, “wherever you are, that’s where i will be.” our ‘brave’ is fed by our faith, the sisu (perseverance and fortitude) we’ve honed in life, the courageous alter-reaction to the terror of taking a step, our community of people. susan and i have used the word “scrappy” to describe our lives; in looking at the definition of “brave” i would add intrepid and plucky. great word – plucky.
i mean, let’s face it – just being in the world and being who we really are each day is damn brave.
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.
we took the train there. it was a glorious day and we had left extra time to walk around the little town, explore a bit, sit, have a glass of wine. the sun was warm and we were looking forward to hearing an author speak, one i have respected for many years. joyce maynard was at the book stall in winnetka, sharing wisdoms and her newest book, a memoir titled the best of us.
the sun warmed us on this early fall day as we sat and sipped, waiting for the time of the reading to begin. i told david stories about reading joyce’s work, way back even before the time when I lived in little bitty hillsboro, new hampshire and, from a short distance away, she wrote a column called domestic affairs. she has had impact on me for many a year and i was happy to be able to tell her that in person.
we haven’t started reading her new book yet. she inscribed it to us, “with the hope that our story inspires your own.” the best of us is a profound story of love and loss and growth and embracing Living. joyce was honest and candid. she read sections of the book aloud. she shared real moments that were both excruciatingly painful and infinitely life-full. and she wore awesome army green converse sneakers.
seeing joyce was multi-layered for me, as it is whenever we attend openings or readings or concerts…as an artist it always makes me think about where i have been, where i am, where i am going. it was lovely to meet such a prolific author, inspiring to hear her words about her book. but mostly? mostly it made me want to write more, share more. words. lyrics. music. paintings. our new two-person play. medium doesn’t matter. it’s a spur that i could feel – deep inside.
as an artist couple, our spectrum of emotions is pretty wide. sometimes maybe too wide (yes, it’s ok to laugh here.) but as an artist couple we both feel the spur and we join hands and jump into the next thing.
…but not until after i order a pair of army green converse sneakers.
reverse threading 