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?
Mondays are just young Fridays
We’ve all grown up surrounded by advertising.
In print, billboards or placards, or through radio or television – and, now, in any vacant spot they can fill on any digital device you get your hands on – we are bombarded with product and price.
It’s pretty easy to become immune to it all. It has to be especially effective to grab your attention; and only the shocking or extraordinary does.
Good advertising has you reaching for your wallet.
Great advertising pulls at your heart.
There is one particular commercial that sticks out in my mind, especially this time of year.
I remember the first time I saw it in about 2005. With a mother’s voice singing Silent Night, the commercial shows a series of adorable babies, fast asleep. Gentle, serene faces with eyes and mouths twitching ever so slightly, as babies do.
All is calm.
I remember watching, my eyes transfixed. It was generic, non-specific advertising, where you don’t even know it is a commercial for Pampers disposable diapers until after the main message appears on the screen at the end: Peace on Earth.
I know my eyes welled up, then, and every time I saw the commercial in the years following.
I know I remembered standing over my own infant daughter, decades earlier, and realizing all that was beautiful and right with this world.
I know it hits me hard, this time of year, because my child was born a week before Christmas.
Today, and evermore, I wish her Peace on Earth.
Image ©Pampers