There are days when you have to approach fear at the edges, especially when you’re just beginning. The thought of waking the giant that is your dream, especially if you’ve left him to slumber for months or years or decades, can leave you quaking in your boots.

What if the giant smashes you? What if he eats you for lunch?

And so you tiptoe. Just a little doodle here. Just a dab of paint right there. Nothing too big, nothing too loud, nothing that will grab attention.

That was me three years, three months, three days ago.

That was what this blog was.

Go back. Read through it. You’ll see me dabbling and doodling and dawdling. You’ll see me tiptoeing around the giant.

It’s okay to start there. That’s been a central theme here. It’s okay to start small. It’s even okay to stay small. It’s better than doing nothing.

But keep doing little things and one day you may wake up and realize you long for more.

Keep thinking small thoughts and one day you may be bowled over by a bigger one.

Keep being mildly creative and one day you may have a wild idea, like the one that you could be an artist, that you should be an artist, that you must be an artist, and that you’re ready to jump on the giant’s chest.

And that is what’s happened to me.

I have decided to be an artist, that I already am an artist, and that I want to devote my life to becoming a better one.

Being mildly creative, as I said, is a great way to begin. It’s also a great way to begin again when you lose your way for a time.

But being an artist takes more than being mild.

Some days it takes being relaxed. Some days it takes being alert.

Some days it takes being playful. Some days it takes being severely serious.

What it takes, I have learned, is being whatever you need to be on any given day at any given time in order to do what you must.

And I feel that I must move on.

For that reason, this is the last post I will ever write for this blog. I’m starting a new adventure, the adventure of being an artist.

You can find me at my new domain, KenRobert.com, a place where I can be whatever I need to be on any given day at any given moment in order to do what I must.

I hope you’ll join me there. If you’re a subscriber to the blogcast, you will continue to receive updates, but they’ll be coming to you from my new home.

If you’re a subscriber to this RSS feed, I’m sorry. You’ll have to subscribe to the new one if you care to receive updates of what I’m up to. You can do so by clicking here.

My hopes for KenRobert.com are that it will be far more useful and museful for fellow artists, mild or otherwise. I know it will be for me.

For those of you who’ve been coming here and visiting over the past few years, I’d simply like to say the following.

Thank you. Hope to see you again soon.

P.S. If you didn’t watch the video at the top of the post, you might want to scroll up and do so, or you can simply click this link.

I could draw anything I like. I like people.

What do you like?

Let Yourself Go Mild. Subscribe to the Mildly Creative Blogcast.

The truth is . . .

I’m really busy this week, working lots of double shifts to get in as many hours as I can so I can take the time off for my move next week.

The truth is . . .

I have a tendency to bite off more than I can chew.

The truth is . . .

Some things hurt worse than you think they’re going to.

The truth is . . .

I’m going to be okay, but I’m not okay just yet.

The truth is . . .

I’ll be back just as soon as I decide what this new beginning is all about.

The truth is . . .

I believe I’ll be much stronger then.

Every time life knocks me down, I pick my pencil back up and I feel myself getting stronger.

When I draw, I often start things I don’t finish. This is true for the rest of my life as well.

But I find if I keep starting, I eventually latch onto something I want to see to the end.

And, every now and then, I’m so pleased with the end result, I actually want to show others what I’ve done. I might even hang it on a wall.

Let Yourself Go Mild. Subscribe to the Mildly Creative Blogcast.

The more I look at what other artists are doing, the more I realize there are no plans to follow except for the ones I make myself.

Let Yourself Go Mild. Subscribe to the Mildly Creative Blogcast.

We have work to do
and much of it will go unfinished.
We will start things
that will wither
and be forgotten
without ever having been perfected.

We’ve heard about the end,
about the dissipating universe
and how the sun will swallow the earth
like a small hors d’oeuvre
served up on a napkin
at a cosmic cocktail party.

But that day has not arrived yet,
and neither has ours.
We’re still here and breathing,
the universe is still expanding,
and the sun hasn’t even reached for the tray.

So today, we have work to do.
So what if it will never fully satisfy us?
What would we do if it did?

Let Yourself Go Mild. Subscribe to the Mildly Creative Blogcast.

I’m trying to gain traction, but yesterday was a slippery day.

I spent the day searching for a new home, attempting yet again to get an appointment to see what’s going on with my mind, and begging myself to sit down and do something I promised someone I’d do.

Things didn’t go that well, but I kept going, even as I spun in circles, even as I slid into walls.

Tomorrow, I’ll get up and go again.

Sometimes it feels like your running in banana peel shoes. But my experience has been that the soles of those shoes will eventually wear through and your feet will touch the pavement, grip it, and pull you forward. That is, of course, until you slip again.

With that in mind, I ended my day by drawing and drawing and drawing again. If I keep drawing, if I keep creating, I believe I’ll gain traction again one day.

Let Yourself Go Mild. Subscribe to the Mildly Creative Blogcast.

Sometimes I feel like a rabbit taking lessons in the art of snail. I have to keep reminding myself that things, especially things that mean something, take time.

I may have ADD, but that doesn’t mean I always have to give into it. That doesn’t mean that I have to do ten things at once. I may lose my focus, but I can remind myself to refocus.

Perhaps it will always take me longer to do what someone else can do much quicker. That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do it, shouldn’t stick with it, shouldn’t see it through.

Perhaps I will always have to choose to do fewer things than someone who is capable of doing much more. That just means I’ll have to choose more wisely and eliminate a lot of the distractions.

I’m moving slower today. I’m thinking slower today. I’m trying to go as slow as I can.

Let Yourself Go Mild. Subscribe to the Mildly Creative Blogcast.

Sometimes, when people ask me what I do, I want to say, “I really can’t describe it, but I have a need to do it, so I just keep showing up for it.”

That’s how I feel about my sketchbooks.

I don’t know what to call them. I have no idea where they’re going. I often wonder why I bother.

So I set them down, try to forget about them, and look for something else to do.

But I always come back to them. I write in them. I draw in them. I get the feeling there’s something within them I might discover if I would just stay with them.

Right now, going through a divorce and preparing to live on my own for the first time in a quarter of a century, I feel like I need those pads of paper more than ever.

My only real plan for the year ahead is to take care of myself. Go to work, get some exercise, eat some healthy foods, save some money, spend some time with people I love, put some things on the walls of my new surroundings.

And I plan to write and draw and process things in my sketchbooks. I really can’t describe them, but I have a need to put things in them, so I’ll just keep showing up for them.

Let Yourself Go Mild. Subscribe to the Mildly Creative Blogcast.