What shows
how little
we know?
What can be is
oft far less than
what we expect.
What is now
has never been
what it was.
07/25/2024 j.g.l.
value beyond
Simplicity.
Is there emotion in austerity?
Humanity?
What do you see when attempting
to define your limited visibility?
Minimalism, abstract impressionism
or incorporeal thought.
Less is more, but is it enough?
Texture, tone, and value beyond
your current scene. If you take it to an
extreme, you will question
what it means.
What is really there?
What line do you cross?
Can simplicity be complicated, or
should it even be attempted?
07/23/2024 j.g.l.
Mondays are just young Fridays
Things will not go as planned. Intentions will be disrupted, even overlooked, in the aftermath of an unexpected reality.
Where you are headed will not be the place you end up, undoubtedly or undeniably. No matter how hard you attempt to make each gesture, brushstroke, promise, prayer, or pastime as perfect as you believe it can be, many times you will not arrive at a perceived destination. All too often your endeavors never hit the mark; at times your work may be better than expected (celebrate those moments), but everything (even your judgement) is subjective.
You are not limited to, or by, the colours in your paintbox or progression of your process.
Imagination is as limited or expansive as you want it to be. Give it time to blossom; in certain instances, you may even have to reel it in. This is all about possibilities, no matter which media, method, or style you are beholden to.
You owe your art (or life) nothing but your presence; the value comes from the practice, as rudimentary or spontaneous as it is or will become.
07/22/2024 j.g.l.
I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
The Streets Are Not Safer
Posted on July 9, 2020 by j.g.lewis
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It’s 9:23 a.m. on Wednesday. The street is not silent as cars and bikes stream by on this hot summer morning..
A young woman sits quietly on a metal bench in the shadow of the condominium across the street, knapsack across her lap and lighter in hand, the small flame heating up whatever she has in her hand. An older guy stands over her, looking down, syringe in hand, oblivious as I walk by.
The street corner is littered with take-away coffee cups, plastic bottles, bags, blue straps and used syringes.
This has become a common street corner scene in downtown Toronto.
Last Sunday, about 8:30 p.m., I watched one man help another man find a vein on the same sidewalk bench, and then stick a needle in his arm.
Sure enough, the needle was there the next morning, along with others.
Sadly Sunday evening’s scene was 50 steps away from a safe injection site that offers supervised drug injection by harm-reduction workers. The facility was open at the time, but this did not make a difference to these users.
It’s sad that any addiction has come to this point.
It is even sadder that those who chose to use do so on city streets where the remains of their deeds are tossed away in places people, children, and dogs walk regularly.
There is evidence of hard drug use on these streets pretty much each day. Used syringes are becoming as common as discarded facemasks. I often phone 311 and provide a description and coordinates, often more then one needle at a time, in several different places.
The next day those needles, or hypodermic syringes, may not be there, but others are.
Daily I walk these streets, usually early morning when there are fewer people out and about. Social distancing is easier. Daily exercise is necessary.
Each day I become more concerned for my safety and for that of my neighbours.
When the safe injection site opened, much was said about this facility making the streets safer.
What we have seen is an influx of traffic.
The streets are not safer; not for those who pass by.
