He stood in the middle of the sidewalk and gazed at me as intently as I must have been gazing at him. I was trying to get a read on who he was or what he might be celebrating. When I got home, I googled an interfaith calendar to see if the day was a religious holiday or commemorated anything special. Nothing – just a regular day in Parkdale.
I just took a week to do some painting (acrylic and pastel). I wanted to focus on technique, but there was so much to figure out and so many things that could, and did, go wrong that I was overwhelmed. I pushed on and painted one lifeless piece after another.
Somewhere mid-week, I realized that learning to paint – learning to get down what’s in my head – is going to be a long road and I should probably try to approach it with some softness and lightness (the thought helped). My daughter said I should make a quilt of all the small corners of the paintings that I liked. I thought that was a grand idea so here’s a mock up of what my quilt would look like after this week. One day maybe I’ll print it on fabric and sew it up.
I was almost beside her when she threw a handful of soggy paper at the pole. I wasn’t sure if she was making art or protesting the little installation. I looked back over my shoulder and saw her looking around for other things to throw.
I like these public art installations. This is the first time I’ve seen this series on Queen West, but a few months ago, I found some up at Dundas and Bathurst and took pictures: