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.
She was in the bedding section and I was across the aisle in draperies. I liked the way she tried out the pillows. It seemed ineffective and yet completely right – like she would just know when her head brushed against the right one.
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: