Art is everywhere, if you choose to look.
Lately, as the weather becomes a slightly more pleasurable each day, I am taking the opportunity to get back out on the streets of Toronto to observe what really happens here.
Last Thursday, on the way to an appointment, I was fortunate to notice something I had never seen before.
Just about any day you’ll find Ross Ward hunched over on Yonge Street tending to his art. The ‘Birdman of Toronto’ has been a fixture on these streets in various locations for well over a decade, and during each day he crafts, and sells, palm-sized birds.
Once only a hobby — this is now more than whittling — Ward carves out shapes of common birds from reclaimed wood. There is always a piece in progress, and always a small flock for sale on his concrete workspace.
Perhaps in our day-to-day journeys, we don’t look close enough at all the people. We don’t often observe enough to see art just happening here and there on our landscape. I’ve wandered this street how many times and only last week did I notice the man. I saw him again on the weekend.
Appreciating the beauty of his work, I bought a bird as a gift for someone . . . or maybe a souvenir for myself to one day remember my time in this city.
Couldn’t we all use more memorable hand-made art?
Choices Made
Men with obligations set by decree, juggling
unyielding schedules of that which they must,
and choices made. Biding time in serviceable
downtown cocktail lounges, enjoying neither
atmosphere or clientele. Patrons, of common
trait, finding consolation from the noise of life.
Well-educated, yet not wise enough to admit
mistakes. Whiskey, here, and a misplaced sense
of company. Stuck between several homes they
occupy, but feel comfort in neither. Displaced.
Waiting. Weak. A customary phone call from
a young son who wonders, or the mistress who
has stolen him away. Are you coming home?
04/18/17 ©2016 j.g. lewis