An Artist Muses

"The Streetcar Yard"  If you paint vintage urban scenes of Toronto, there's simply no avoiding the fact that you'll end up painting streetcars, whether you want to or not.  Indeed, even contemporary scenes could easily...and often do...have "The Red Rocket" in them, since T.O. still has its fleet of streetcars, unlike many other Canadian cities that once deployed them but now no longer do.   "The Newspapermen" a scene from Hamilton circa 1900 With the possible exception of the Bloor/Yonge subway, no element of Toronto's transit system is as iconic as the streetcar.  Unlike their subterranean kin, streetcars propel you through the heart of the city at street level.  You are not bypassing the busy streets, you are a part of them.   Live in Toronto long enough, and streetcars become woven into your fabric.  I've lived and commuted in Toronto since 1985 and have ridden them too many times to mention.  I've boarded at the Long Branch loop,

  On previous occasions, I've blogged about one of the greater pleasures of working as an artist: that is to engage directly with the public in ways that may not otherwise be possible.  One such example is the day I went to Huron Elementary School in Toronto to speak to grade two students about my role as illustrator of the book "Lady MacBeth Afraid of the Stairs". Now, I'm not a fellow who's apt to be stuck for words, or incapable of filling an hour of time with the requisite amount of hot air.  But I must confess a degree of trepidation at the thought of having to entertain a restless fifty-member group of seven-year-olds for that duration.  I prepped myself as best I could, with actual paintings used to create the book, reference photos I sourced of Newfoundland dogs, the original preliminary sketches, and of course, the book itself all tucked into my artist portfolio.  But I also brought along some blank pages and a Sharpie, and that ultimately led to the best

  In less advanced times, in order to warn coal miners that methane gas was building up to lethal levels, a canary would be kept in a cage in the coal mine.  The tiny yellow bird, less resistant to the effects of gasses than a human, would expire early enough to warn the miners of the growing danger.  I've often thought that art (or other luxury purchases) are a fiscal version of the canary in the coalmine.  When economic hard times are approaching, art purchases are among the first things to go.  I mean, after all, who would make the case that art is a prudent purchase along the lines of food, clothing, or shelter? And yet a strong case can be made for the very important role that art (in all its forms) plays in our lives.  While it may not be the survival essential that the above-mentioned necessities are, it enriches our lives in another, highly important way.  To realize art's value, imagine a world devoid of music, movies, theatre, novels, or the visuals that hang on our w

It simply won't be possible to release this latest painting "Next Stop Oblivion", without offering the viewer an explanation of it.  I've thought about leaving its origins shrouded in mystery, allowing people to try to figure out what exactly is going on.  But I realize this is fundamentally unfair, as the contents will simply be nonsensical without an explanation from the artist (that's me!).  So here goes: My father died in the fall of 2013.  A few months before that, in July of that year, he embarked on what he must have known would be his last journey out east from his home in B.C.  His time on earth was coming to an end, and if you knew my father, he simply would not be going quietly into that gentle night. He had struggled with bi-polar disorder all his life, though it was never discovered that this was at the core of his erratic personality changes until his mid-seventies.  From teenage onward he had been an on-again (mostly), off-again drinker as a way