Keyword: toy

  • Beyond the Bathtub

    “Beyond the Bathtub” by Jason Kotecki. 20 x 20. Oil on canvas.
    Original is available 🟢 Shop this art!

    I could have stayed in the bathtub.

    Way back when, after completing my schooling and earning a degree, the safe path was waiting for me. A decent job in my hometown. It wasn’t particularly exciting, but it was close enough to what I went to school for that I could rationalize it as making sense. I could have taken the job, gotten married, bought a house, and started collecting benefits.

    It was tempting, and by most standards, the smart thing to do. The only problem is that I knew exactly what life in the bathtub would look like for the rest of my life.

    I may have been shy and quiet, but I grew up observing people who decided to stay in the bathtub. Whether they rationalized it as a smart choice or insisted they didn’t have any others, I could always sense a certain sadness, simmering just below the surface. 

    Life outside the bathtub is fraught.

    The ocean is vast. The edges disappear as the shoreline fades from view. The waves toss us around until we’re seasick. At times it feels like we’ll drown—or be swallowed by something much bigger than ourselves. The current carries us in directions we never would have chosen. It’s disorienting. Terrifying. Unpredictable.

    Of course we prefer to remain in an environment we can control! 

    The problem is that it’s not much of a life. 

    The bathtub is safe, controlled, and predictable. But it’s also small. Constricting. Eventually the what-ifs become impossible to ignore. What’s outside these walls? What am I truly capable of? Where might I go if I ventured beyond the edge of what I can see?

    I was the kid my relatives called a scaredy-cat. Honestly, not much has changed. I’ve never become especially brave or outgoing.

    I just knew there was life beyond the bathtub.

    Although I’m just a tiny rubber duck, I sensed I was made for a bigger shore, farther away than I could get to on my own.

    So I put my trust in the One who made the water, the waves, and the wind.

    That choice came with no certainty, no safety, and no benefits package. There were seasons when I felt lost at sea. Driftless. Doubtful. Overwhelmed. Afraid.

    You know what? I still feel that way sometimes. There are always temptations to pull into a safe harbor somewhere and settle down. To quit while I’m ahead.

    But I can’t go back now.

    Since giving my life to the Creator of the ocean, I’ve seen things, accomplished things, and experienced things I never would have known had I stayed in the bathtub. I’ve been swept up in an adventure that’s been wonderful, beautiful, and breathtaking.

    The decision isn’t to become adventurous.

    The decision is to leave the bathtub.

    Everything else follows.

    We’re destined for a life beyond the bathtub. 

    Of course it isn’t safe. But it is good.

    Is it time for you to experience what life is like beyond the bathtub?

    process

  • The Armada

    “The Armada” by Jason Kotecki. 16 x 16. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    Quick! You’re on the beach with a friend and you spot something approaching on the horizon. To your amazement, you make out an armada of giant rubber ducks coming to shore. What is your reaction?

    Are you excited? Overjoyed? Concerned? Skeptical? Worried? Afraid?

    Are they visitors or invaders?

    Do they bring good tidings or dark intentions?

    Sometimes a painting can just be a fun picture that makes you smile. And sometimes it contains a deeper meaning. I asked people on social media to share their perceptions of this painting, and it may or may not surprise you that their responses varied greatly:

    • “Pure joy. I have a jacket printed with rubber ducks. They always make me smile, as does the ocean, and riding my bike!”
    • “Here comes whimsy!”
    • “Hope is on the horizon.”
    • “I’m a little worried.”
    • “Terrified.”
    • “Invasion from a Trojan Horse.”
    • “Plastic pollution and impending doom from climate change.”

    It turns out that the meaning of this painting, as well as the meaning of almost everything in life, is largely determined by you. 

    Our perceptions impact our actions. For example, whether you’d run for cover or organize a welcoming party would depend on whether you see these rubber ducks as friends or foes. One side sees the other as hopelessly naive. The other side sees the other as paranoid. Both sides have a point.

    If we respond too enthusiastically, we might fall into a trap.

    If we respond with animosity, we may sabotage any chance of something good happening.

    We can assume the best, assume the worst, or…perhaps the best, wisest, most productive thing we can do is keep an open mind and wait and see.

    Now, let’s put the shoe on the other flipper. Imagine if you’re one of those ducks. You’re fun. Lots of people like you. You want to be helpful and bring joy to others. You’re new in town, but you have good intentions. But what are those locals on the shore thinking?

    Do they see you as a visitor or an invader?

    Do they think you bring good tidings or dark intentions?

    We’ve all been the new guy. The new kid in class. The newest employee. Or, most recently for us, the new family in town. I like to think of this painting as a metaphor for our mission to bring wonder and whimsy to distant shores. I unveiled it at the first Wondernite we hosted in Sheboygan, having moved from Madison two years earlier. As relative unknowns, we wondered if anyone would come.

    It turned out to be our biggest and best one yet.

    It’s scary to consider what the natives might think of you. You feel like you stick out like a sore thumb because it seems obvious that everyone can tell you’re not familiar with the local culture, the shorthand, the inside information that everyone else takes for granted. 

    It’s tempting to want to appear big and important. Maybe pretend to be something you’re not. After all, you’ve got a clean slate. None of these new people know all your history and baggage. You never get a second chance to make a first impression, so it’s a chance to put forth something impressive.

    I’ve found it’s easier, more effective, and frankly, less exhausting to just be yourself. People are drawn to authenticity, and we are very good at spotting a fake. Your weird flag may not inspire everyone, but it will attract your people.

    It’s more beneficial to check your expectations.

    If you expect the natives to be hostile, you’re likely to protect yourself by being hesitant and withdrawn, which may make you appear cold and aloof to others. But be warned: if you assume the locals will be hostile and unwelcoming, guess what you’re likely to get.

    You see, there is this thing called confirmation bias. (Perhaps you’ve heard of it.) It’s applicable whether or not you see yourself as the kids on the beach or the newcomers floating to shore. How it works is that we make an initial judgment or tell ourselves a story about a person, group, or situation. Then we reflexively look for evidence that supports our case and confirms our bias. 

    Meanwhile, we subconsciously filter out any information that runs contrary to our story. We interpret new information as being supportive of the opinions we already hold, and it doesn’t matter how poorly it fits. Our dutifully protective brain finds a way without us having much of a say.

    If you think your spouse is ignoring you, you’ll be on the lookout for all the evidence to make your case.

    If you expect to have an awesome day, your antenna will be up and scanning for proof all day long.

    If you think Republicans are the worst, you will notice and remember every example that proves your point.

    If you think Democrats are the enemy, well, you get the point.

    So…what if we paused at the very beginning to realize we don’t yet know the truth and take a wait-and-see approach? Thanks to confirmation bias, if you expect the best in others, the odds are better you’ll find it.

    This might just be a fun, whimsical painting that makes you smile.

    Perhaps something light-hearted to hang in your bathroom.

    It might also be a reminder to always be yourself while giving other people a chance to do the same.

  • One Way To Look At It

    “One Way To Look At It” by Jason Kotecki. 6 x 6. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    One day Kim wrote a social media post about how ugly our backyard is after having been ravaged by a cataclysmic storm. The harsh, violent, apocalyptic hellscape is heartbreaking.

    And very, very ugly. 

    A well-intentioned commenter felt the need to correct her, “No, it’s beautiful.”

    Of course, the commenter is right. It is beautiful, in many real and metaphorical ways. And the photos Kim has taken of the carnage have captured some of that beauty.

    But you know what? It’s also ugly. Especially in comparison to what it was before.

    It can be both. It is both. And that’s ok.

    As I pointed out in my book, A Chance of Awesome, some people look at dandelions and see weeds. 

    Others – mostly kids – see wishes.

    The thing is, both are true. 

    Or take cars. Automobiles are modern marvels that give us great freedom and save us enormous amounts of time. The industry employs nearly two million people. But about 40,000 people die in motor vehicle traffic crashes each year in the U.S.

    So are cars good or bad?

    Unfortunately, our rotten news media has conditioned us to operate without any nuance whatsoever because there is profit to be made in conflict. We no longer seem to have the capacity for critical thinking; we’ve been reduced to the infantile reflex that things are either “good” or “bad.” Every issue is presented as either black or white, red state or blue state, right or wrong, good or evil.

    Ugly or beautiful.

    When it comes to any story – especially the headline-grabbing issues of the day – we’ve been duped into believing we only have two options: be right or be wrong.  

    But life is more complicated than that. Life is both / and.

    When your kid heads off to college for the first time, it’s natural to feel a sense of pride as they move into a new season of growth and independence. It’s also natural to feel sad that your day-to-day interactions with them are coming to an end. 

    Or when a loved one you have taken care of for years has passed away, you probably feel sad that they are gone. It can also feel nice to believe that they are in a better place. 

    But you can also feel relieved that your burden has been lifted. 

    That doesn’t make you a monster; it makes you human. 

    We live in a complicated world with unlimited shades of grey. (Yes, even more than fifty.) It’s not helpful to force everything into an absolute. We don’t have to walk around wearing rose-colored glasses, deluding ourselves into thinking everything is unicorns and rainbows.

    Nor is it especially healthy to point out every potential storm cloud. 

    Both approaches are childish. 

    A mature perspective is acknowledging that life is filled with contradictions. There is good and evil, joy and pain, hope and fear intermingling in all of it. 

    We do have a choice about where we want our attention to dwell, which is one of our most overlooked and underused superpowers. But it’s important to remember that focusing on one doesn’t disappear the other. 

    Life is painful. It is also joyful. Sometimes on the very same day. 

    And that’s ok.

    Acknowledging the ugliness is what keeps us from taking beauty for granted.