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 notebook and started writing.

I wrote for a while about what it means to belong: to myself, to other people, and to the world around me. About listening without judgment, and about how it’s okay to do things that don’t make money. And then this came out:

To me, being an artist is to see and express the human experience. The product is the human experience.

From that moment, I decided to take in everything Ox-Bow had to offer: the smells, the sights, the sounds, my studio, the art I made. All of it, without judgment and without the need to produce. Just creating, and following whatever inspired me.

So that’s what I did.

I walked the trail that winds through the property. I sat on the dock again and again. I hiked up to the Crow’s Nest and looked out over Lake Michigan. I crossed the dunes to dip my feet in the lake, cold and clear.

And every evening at dusk, the deer came down to the meadow. There were so many of them. I stopped each time just to watch them and acknowledge them.

Everywhere I went, I gathered things: leaves in every shade of autumn, small treasures from the trail, pictures of whatever caught my eye.

Then I took it all back to the studio.

I’ll share what happened there in my next letter.
Take Care,
Nancy Fritz
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This activity is made possible in part by the Indiana Arts Commission, which receives support from the State of Indiana. ​ ​