Lately I’ve been thinking less about finished work and more about the small creative habits that keep me grounded. This week’s notes are about doodling, working near people, and why not everything meaningful starts with a plan.

The ocean quietly supports much of what makes modern life possible. It regulates climate. It produces oxygen. It feeds billions of people. It shapes weather patterns and coastlines. The innovations highlighted here matter because they recognize that connection. They acknowledge that human health and ocean health are not separate concerns. They move the conversation beyond abstract responsibility and into practical action.

Happy New Year, friends! In this week’s update I’ll be discussing goals, progress, consistency, quality, the high seas treaty and living in the moment. I cover a lot in a short period so read on…

There’s almost never a clean moment where everything shifts, and you can point to it. Progress looks less like reacting and more like paying attention. Learning. Making small adjustments. Staying with it even when nothing obvious seems to be working, and even when it feels like we might be drifting the wrong way.

I love a good “best of” list, and I look forward to spending time every year reading everyone’s posts about the music, books, products, and things that they enjoyed and experienced throughout the year.

So, coming out of these traditions, I’m posting my own list for the first time.

Maybe the real work is just showing up, even in uneven stretches. Even when we’re exploring something new. Letting the small steps and stumbles add up. Trusting that the things we love, our goals, our dreams, don’t fall apart the moment we wander a little.

Winter has its own rhythm that’s unavoidable. If we work with it instead of fighting it, the season can become one of the most restorative and creatively meaningful stretches of the year. But, man, it is not easy.

I only made one small painting this week. Honestly, it didn’t feel like much at first. Just a little blocky collage experiment I started because I wanted to keep my hands moving and relax with my art. But the funny thing is that this small piece in my sketchbook reminded me of something important that not only applies to art, but to life in general.

I went to a talk at the Canton Cultural Center this week, hosted by ArtsInStark, our local community arts council. It ended up being one of those events that sticks with you. The speaker was Dr. Sharon Boyle from Ohio University. She runs their Arts in Health program and has a long background in music therapy, so she brought a real-world viewpoint instead of something abstract.

She opened with a simple idea. Engaging with the arts is a health behavior.

Giving a piece of art to a friend or donating it to a good cause often feels even better than a sale. I’m lucky, I don’t have to make money from my art. If it can make someone happy or help raise money for something worthwhile, that’s a great thing. This is just one of the positive experiences that I’ve had this week. Read on to learn more about my progress and thoughts this week.

Creativity isn't a modern luxury. It's ancient. The same impulse that made early humans grind pigments and press their hands against cave walls is the same one that makes us pick up a brush today. That instinct hasn't left us.

Progress was slow this week. I kept trying to work on the large paintings that I have in motion, but honestly, it felt like I wasn't getting anywhere. Looking back, I didn’t actually do anything meaningful with the paintings. (Sigh)

But as I looked back, I actually did a lot.

I’ll admit, I’m not a ballet guy. I’m definitely more at home at a rock concert. I’m betting many people reading this would say the same. So, why keep reading? Because very few of us stop to consider why cultural organizations like the ballet matter, or what it actually takes to keep them alive.

Studio time this week was all about the big stuff. I’m working on several large paintings at once right now. It’s exciting having multiple pieces going. You can bounce between them when one needs to dry or when you need fresh eyes. See what else I’ve been up to in my second October Update!

Five minutes in the studio. That’s all I’ve managed some days. But it counts. The last few weeks have been chaos. New flooring throughout the main floor. Dust everywhere. Travel. Work deadlines. Needy dogs. All of it chipping away at studio time. So I’m taking the smallest steps possible.

Sometimes we lose the thread of our creative lives. I’m currently experiencing this for a number of reasons.

One day, we feel alive, buzzing with possibility. We can’t wait to start. The next, we’re standing in a room where the lights have gone dim. The tools are still there. The brushes, the instrument, the cooking utensils, but they sit silent. We sit silent too.

I've often heard people say that creative people feel "a spark" that makes them do what they do. It's as if we need to feel something before we can actually make something. That a certain mood has to land. Some rare mix of clarity, energy, and excitement must materialize before we can begin. Is it supposed to feel like a light switch that turns on our desires and abilities?

That pull to make something from nothing, it shows up in all kinds of ways. Sometimes it’s about expression. Sometimes it’s about connection. Sometimes we’re trying to understand something. Other times, we just want to feel something. I’ve felt it for as long as I can remember.

Why has creativity been with us from the moment we first walked upright and figured out how to smear pigment on a cave wall? You could argue we’ve always had bigger problems. Survival, for one. But somehow, somewhere between hunting, gathering, mating, and survival, we decided that painting a mammoth on stone was just as essential as finding one to eat.