Late January, from his lonely hospital bed, Ken Bakeman exited this Earth to reunite with his higher self. According to staffers (who perhaps did not directly witness the passing), he died peaceably in his sleep. At that moment the World instantly lost a prestigious “posthumous” talent; possibly the only human that intrinsically appreciated untainted reptilian culture. Please note: this blog has an extremely limited readership, so the only way this news can travel to those that need to read it is with your help. Kindly promote this article as widely as you are able so everyone might receive closure.
Sometime after his “disappearance” in 2013, Ken did forge a direct connection with me. Some of our brief communications were frustrated. It was unlikely two passionate industry titans would be able to connect without friction long term, but I have always had enormous respect for prodigy’s legacy. He embraced his talent and made it his own. He was true to himself and his wider culture.
Though that sense of perspective was resolutely human, an empathy towards larger reptilian politics was also amply conveyed. The comprehension earned him introductions to numerous alien worlds; many expressing delicate nuances that reflect the so many obsidian gene path divides. He knew Draco mindset as well as or better than anyone. And, of course, any entity type integrated with expanded reptilian networks became supplementary focal points as well. Many devotees, though, possibly best recognise Ken for his trademark vivid artistic depictions of the strange creatures he saw. These bring a charm to the legacy that made him who he was.
Ken Bakeman 1955-2021 May You Rest in Peace
Given the enormous tragedy associated with the recent passing, posterity meekly demands a resurrection of sorts. Many visitors have been drawn to this website in their committed search of an active Ken. Few of you, if any, know the heartening story that captures Ken “the human being”. Therefore, it is high time for that shortfall to be redeemed. Thus, forthwith is a succinct, engaging history of the real man behind the myths. A family friend Robert R. Sickles has kindly sponsored much information that begins with our focus on an impressionable 17-year-old back in 1972.
Confined to a shed in his mother’s back yard, young Ken put all his heart and inspiration into building an authentic harpsicord. Clearly, as a project, it was too grand for a garden shed or Ken alone. So fortune permitted local enthusiast, Jack Peters, would offer his professional Seattle located workshop for construction. Already now partnering with Robert, Ken embraced the opportunity with open arms. Educative learning curves proved so productive, our invincible team decided to embark on a career devoted to the creation of antique musical instruments. Moving to another beautiful workshop within striking distance of Seattle, Ken and Robert entered into full business partnership and this endured for several years. The upshot of the venture ended up harvesting good numbers of keyboard models of exquisite quality, some of which currently reside in or have travelled to music schools, concert stages (such as with Canada’s Luchkow-James duo) and salubrious private homes. Included were numbers of harpsichords and fortepianos (forerunners to the modern pianoforte). Age-sensitive performances of Rococo and Classical masterpieces of prestigious performers of the ilk of Mozart, Haydn and Clementi (including Kenneth Gilbert of the University of British Columbia’s memorable French Baroque concert recital) regularly became the talk of the town.
Four years into this journey, in 1976 Ken became impressed by a literary work of Jane Roberts, titled “Channeling of Seth”. At this juncture he was still living with Robert at a property close to their workshop. Sufficiently energized by Ken’s enthusiasm, both began experimenting with a Ouija board. Efforts did yield some encouraging results along the lines of automatic writing and effects designed to sharpen latent extrasensory abilities. Nevertheless, it was Ken who became more deeply moved by experiences. Still a young man in his early 20’s with an open life full of hope, it soon became apparent he could not be contained by mediocrity. Regularly breaking free of the workshop in clemency of his “moody restlessness” swings, he would take off on long road trips. These moments never tested the character of the relationship with his business partner, so Ken commonly felt compelled to reveal what he had experienced. Robert recalled him being away for a particularly lengthy excursion, but, upon that home return, the genius became very excited by plans he had drawn up for a new pipeline mega-project.
Humble sheets of parchment would be the entrancing revelation, for bursting from each blank void were detailed, illuminating diagrams pertaining to floorplans of strange holy monuments, temples, pyramids, cathedrals and cumbersome megalithic relics. This feast of vision aptly celebrated Ken’s extraordinary perspective. Everything he had sketched was somehow made “to scale”, but there was more to it than that. Ken had been able to decode structural and mystical similarities “collectivizing” the almighty group. Old stones had morphed into something that was truly divine. Embedded messages and esoteric truths lost to distant times were instantly retrieved to their former glory by this simple act of vision.
Unfortunately, unbridled obsessive mania would come at a hefty price. The maestro’s many trips away had caused a considerable backlog of unfinished business to suffocate workflow. Robert became increasingly concerned as to how this could be facilitated, but power of his respect for his business partner could not let him disrupt spiritual evocation. As a consequence, the workshop eventually became overloaded with Ken’s graphic outpourings. Many of these rough designs had strange, scratched notes attached to them. Of course, ultimately, it was no way to run a busy business. Orders were banked up to the gunnels with no one to fulfil them, instruments out in the field needed repairs and tuning. It was too much for one person, so Robert courageously determined to close the business and turn his attentions elsewhere.
Ken being Ken continued on his “spirit quests” (or walkabouts as Robert called them). Now well into his 20’s, our hero began contemplating possibilities for alien visitations, though he had been interacting ever since his childhood years. Doubtlessly, as Robert emphasizes, he would have been to some degree influenced by von Damiken’s explosive commentary and other pioneers too. What was clear is reptilian intervention considerations naturally flowed in with those prior wider studies as if it was a natural evolution. All this was of course long before Ken’s personal experiences with aliens came to light publically.
Moving swiftly forward to the 1980’s, onset of his baptismal maturity (age 30) drew him towards a bizarre solo “My Pet Slug” business venture that so amply fulfilled his character, it must have been cosmically blessed. The cabinet/musical instrument workshop had now been galvanized to progress a wider consuming purpose. Almost overnight, with a whirl of intensity, it had been transformed into a crowded factory whose many employees specialized in crafting replica snakes, snails, slugs, dragonflies and spiders from painted, lacquered wood. Widely popular in gift shops right across the country, the best seller was something Ken called the “Mug Slug”. Per his natty conceptualization, a grotesque Gastropoda in all its oozing gooeyness, attached by a hook, would cling to the rim of any selected teacup. Horrified onlookers would be teased into believing in consumption of the unthinkable. It is an example that aptly highlights the brilliance of Ken’s mind.
Indeed, on the business front, subsequently, things would take a turn for the better. A Japanese entrepreneurial tycoon seeking American artistic talent discovered My Pet Slug and quickly expressed an interest in becoming involved with the business financially. Before too long, operations were moved to a swanky new purpose selected factory. Product ranges expanded significantly to include more mundane household items, such as trivets and soap dishes, which were lovingly carved from best grade cedar by numerous employees. Ken had his own sumptuous office that came with a plush, oversized swivel chair sat behind a grand desk. Even so, when Robert visited the premises some time later, output had dwindled to such an extent, it was a shadow of its former glory. He wasn’t sure whether financiers had radically scaled back or Ken’s possible boredom had deliberately sabotaged production output so as to guarantee foreclosure and an exit to a new adventure. Whatever the reasons, the venture did ultimately fold.
Many years later, it wasn’t until 2008 that Ken would resurface. Without funds and a home (due to foreclosure on his landlord’s property), Robert and his wife provided the maestro room and board for a few months to help him back on his feet. Each day, apparently, he would leave for his job (as carpenter in home construction) with his building crew (who by all accounts were not, sadly, in his head space), returning dusty and sore, just in time for evening tea. But the hard work paid dividends in savings which would eventually cover the expenses needed to move to more permanent housing. The interim period with Robert’s family was to provide opportunity for numerous intellectual exchanges and educated debates. It was at one of these discourses the hosts learned of Ken’s lavish plans to launch a new book simply titled “The Verges”; a collective accumulation of tales forming his twilight story. There is something else that happened in respect to Robert’s heartwarming intervention. Karmic effects and Laws of Attraction tend to promote positive reactions to goodwill. In line, our noble hosts decided they desired to sell up and relocate to hazy Olympia while Ken was living with them. Fate ensured for a provider, with our maestro doing everything in his power to assist with repair and cleanup of the vacating property. More still, he vocally enthused that the whole operation went “far deeper”. His final comments assured the relocation transition was a purposeful “spiritual cleansing”.
Drifted apart, light communications between the former business partners ensued for a further five years (taking this account to 2013) and then….“nothing”. Of course it is at this point when Ken’s many fans reminisce over his disappearance. They saw his websites had remained unchanged, dormant and there were no other visible outward expressions to surface anywhere. The void persisted until he connected with me directly at this blog in 2017. I can but speculate what happened to Ken (from early 2014) after those close to him were content he had found an enjoyable job at a garden/hardware store. At about the time of his disappearance, he may have entered into a passionate relationship with a female and made many mistakes along that course (considering his spiritual integrity) in abject pursuit of pleasure. Conjecture maybe, but someone visited my blog a few years ago who seemed to imply he was responsible for a bitter, spiteful “break up” which resulted in all trust lost. Additionally, to Robert’s horror, it transpired Ken had become dependent on alcohol and prescription medication to battle demons associated with his “incessant river of psychic experiences”. I wonder whether, in fact, if Ken’s were additionally the karmic response to my hypothesis (fallout from a prior toxic relationship), they might have been in part fueled by drugs and alcohol? Maybe I’m very wrong here and perhaps we will never know the truth to this. What is certain is he is a greatly missed talent. If only he could have learned to modulate or channel his psychic ability, maybe using it to help others.
There is more to add to the beginning of this story. In his early life, Ken demonstrated unprecedented prodigy. Similar to my circumstances, his family saw that as the eminent sign to drive him in the direction of particularly toxic career paths. In my case, I was “designated” to become a chartered accountant, so, instead, I went to university to study art and music. In line, friends of the maestro reminisce about his abusive upbringing, though, according to family members (such as his sister, Kathy), he was dearly loved; a love that possibly wasn’t understood. Perhaps Ken’s acute sensitivity affected his judgement on such matters, but clearly he was the proverbial black sheep. From his drawings and accounts of his experiences, an undeniable supersensory appreciation of perspective can be garnered from all his projects. Erstwhile unknown entities were literally “resurrected”, even when illustrations and accompanying notes were figurative. Ken found the happy knack of capturing the essences and this why so many will be saddened by the news of his passing at age 65. So I make one final plea to those of influence. Please spread this news as far and widely as you are able to,
Accounts of his acceptance of transferences, such as depression vented by a cashier (he aptly termed her jagged energy) and crushing psychic pain of a man queued behind him in a grocery store in effect paved the way for his unhealthy demise. Suffice to say, in those final few years, he had become unfit for work, consequentially homeless and fully under the grip of his medications for “bipolar disorder”. Even so, according to reports, courtesy of social services, his presence at the homeless shelter did bring joy and spiritual solace to fellow vagrants. He had always been lovable, gentle and polite, feeling inclined to hold back his ability in order to skate circles around the minds of others. In fact, right up until the bitter end, he continued with his re-edit of The Verges. But then the grim reaper called. At some juncture in January this year or, perhaps, a little prior, he was terminally admitted to a Seattle hospital. Succumbing to chronic infection and organ failure, on 30th January 2021, in typical Ken fashion, he passed from this Earth with no one by his side. This was not for want of friends or admirers. It was the way Ken was. And due the foul current pandemic of ignorance, there is no funeral or memorial service planned. So it is left to me to preserve the legacy; a task I feel honoured to have conducted.
To conclude I would like to insert some private correspondences between me and Ken in February 2017:
I wasn’t chuckling or grimacing at what you have written because I think it’s interesting, given in your own unique style which I enjoy, otherwise I wouldn’t have bothered to contact you. Not sure, but I might have more than one “energy signature” because I’m a multiple soul placed into a single body. I’m “me” but also — among others — Schroeder von Mies (a child born in Minsk, stolen by Nazis and trained in a Lebensborn school in Poland or Germany and then adopted by Dutch parents) and also Antonio Zimmelli (from Brecia, Italy). Both are connected with Nazi Germany. Lots more to explain here.
I can relate to the “big ideas vs. giving up” feeling. So I sometimes take a break and attempt to be ‘normal’ in the meantime but eventually continue on with writing and illustrating my experiences as best as possible.
You may contact me to ask questions but I only talk about my own limited set of experiences and try to steer away from theories and conjecture. By no means do I have ‘all the answers’ but maybe my reports can help fill in some details. Who knows?
For now please keep my conversation with you simplified to say that I contacted you to say that I am alive and well. After I read your new article perhaps we can discuss things in more detail.
BTW the juvenile dinosaur had some downy feathers but when I saw her again about 10 months later they had molted or had been shed. Either that or perhaps was a different dino?
And here is another:
Dear Humble Lad,
I’m going to add some new material to book 1 of The Verges. Meanwhile I reset the prices at Lulu.com down to basically my ost. So you may want to hold off on buying the paperback until the new version is available. The ebook is US$1.00. I make a penny.
Very good; you noticed me reading your Jan 1 2017 composition. This sometimes happens to me when I’ll call or just drive over to an acquaintance’s place and they’ll say, “I was just talking about you”, with an expression of alarm. Don’t know why but I felt a nudge to visit your site.
I don’t think I was smirking but just was being entertained by your writing. It flows well and is sufficiently quirky with enough tangential dynamics to give a sort of self propulsion quality to it. Good punctuation too. My favorite punctuation mark is .
And finally, for good measure:
Hi Steve, Not sure . . . maybe related to an ethereal being I saw when a young kid. I named it Zinder. Image attached. I’ve just moved to a house near a small lake and there might be house entities around me; don’t know. A one eyed cat that lived here ran away immediately after I moved in. I’m also in charge of a huge German Shepherd dog that I take on walks by the lake. When did you notice these beings? I moved in here near the end of last month. Even though the house is relatively new I got the feeling just this morning that is was like an old haunted house. But things didn’t look right, meaning everything was too new and clean. As I walked down the upper floor hallway, which was spotlessly clean, I envisioned old moldy doors and walls. How strange.