Meditative Moment Imagine sitting at the end of a dock. Water still beneath you, trees on the far shore. Nothing to do. Nowhere to be. Just breathe here for a moment. Ox-Bow Lagoon from the dock Dear friends, In my last letter, I left you on the dock by the lagoon at Ox-Bow with a question my coach had given me: If I let go of the idea that being productive means making something to sell, how else could I define productive? I sat there a long time, watching the water. Then I opened my...

Meditative Moment Picture a road lined with trees just beginning to turn. Gold at the edges, green still holding on. Let yourself slow down to that pace for a moment. Ox-Bow Lagoon from the dock. I’m home from Ox-Bow, and I’ve been waiting to write until I could find the words. While I was there, I chose to live the experience rather than translate it. This is the first of three letters about that week. The drive was about three hours from Fort Wayne. The leaves were just starting to turn and...

In art school, you draw from life constantly. Still lifes. Botanical compositions. And figure drawing, a live model in the room, a timer counting down, your hand moving as fast as your eye. No overthinking. Just looking and mark-making, over and over, until you start to actually see. These drawings were not meant to be precious. They are practice. They teach your hand to respond before your brain can second-guess it. You do dozens in a single session and most of them go in the recycling bin...