Introduction

This is intended to be a history of events and conditions during the decades that my works shown here were done.

What follows is auto biographical, but only in relation to those things that have some connection with my work. Although tempting, I will not be discussing here the works done over the decades. I think words are no substitute for images, but I realize it can be interesting to hear a painter's 'story' of the image they have created. That may come later with the visual presentation of the work. Initially I was concerned regarding what the length of this writing could become. That may be in part because I keep hearing the words: "nobody reads anymore". Then my son Dennis, a multi-talented guy who has generously offered to make this Website for me, reminded me that people have a choice, to read or not to. That made me feel I could write freely, but only what I think is relevant to my work.

First of all, it seems important to state that I don't draw or paint or present this web site because the world needs to see what I do. No one 'needs' to see any of it. I draw and paint because I feel compelled to. This web site is just a way to show anyone who is interested what I have done. I am entering into this endeavor with some trepidation. Part of me thinks - I have sold a lot of pictures but who would really care what I have done and have to say?

Maybe I can take some justification for doing this in the words of Rachel Carson - she wrote:

"If you write about what you yourself sincerely think and feel and are interested in - you will interest other people."....

I hope you are right Rachel.

The 1950s and 1960s

I came into being two years after WW two ended. Like many children, I did a lot of drawing, maybe in part because my family's financial situation did not enable us to purchase a television until well after I started school (something I am grateful for). A great amount of time was spent in winter reading and drawing behind the wood stove. Some of my most memorable Christmas presents were books and later drawing supplies. Around the time I started school in 1953, a friend of my older brother Maurice, named Ken Fitzpatrick was perhaps the first person who ever talked technically with me about drawing. He demonstrated with a pencil how to draw a horse. Psychologists tell us that things that happen in childhood that can determine the path one takes in life. Memories of Ken and a piece of paper and a pencil are as clear in my mind as they were 66 years ago, and it could well be that without that thrill of discovery of what a pencil can do.... well who knows? Almost as memorable were several times when elementary school teacher Mary Clare, who was about to give me a scolding, stopped abruptly and looked at my drawing and murmured something like: "How did you learn to do that?" I knew my drawing was far from what I would have called very good. However, when there were only 26 students in all eight grades of your one room country school it was easy to be the one who drew fairly well. Anyone old enough may recall the Jon Nagy 'How to Draw' program on television. The book and drawing supplies that were offered as part of that program were a delightful Christmas present. Just before starting high school two memorable people in my life, my mother's sisters, my aunts who were nuns, visited and gave me a little mahogany box with oil painting supplies in it. They both continued to be in contact throughout their life and much later arranged for their Convent to purchase a painting from me to celebrate an important anniversary. Elizabeth was an art teacher and a painter, but I regard both of them as important in my life. Although, I had no interest in their religion, I did admire them as people whose ideological beliefs were manifested in practical ways that made the world a better place. Sister Elizabeth gave me my first 'Art Book'- it was about the work of Chaim Soutine- a rather obscure artist and of course completely unknown to me.

I certainly didn't intend it but by high school I began to be defined as that guy who did a lot of drawing. I was surprised when my high school in Goderich purchased a painting from me in the same year that I failed chemistry and math and was made to repeat the year. I was a terribly distracted student and was dismayed when I was voted in as the school's Student Council's treasurer. Thanks to the teacher adviser I didn't do any damage to the Council's finances. Even until late in high school I never really thought about being or becoming an artist. I just liked to draw. I do not intend here to get "all intellectual" about being someone who draws and paints. There are lots of us who do that, many of whose stories would be far more interesting than mine. In some ways, although he could be intellectual and thoughtful about art, I like Vincent Van Gogh's notion of the artist as just another workman. It just never occurred to me to do anything other than go to an Art College and the Guidance Counselor at the time must have realized that made sense and helped me apply. I began to study art at O.C.A- the Ontario College of Art in Toronto in September 1966.

Since then the College has had a few name changes and is now a University. My first year there started with anxiety because I was probably the only one in my classes who had no art courses in high school. That quickly became apparent to me. Everyone but me knew how to care for a $50.00 series #7  Windsor and Newton watercolor brush. In spite of that I enjoyed every minute of those four years, with the exception of a few months in my third year when I began to wonder how I would make a living for my family. Because I was so unaware of art methods and techniques, I found everything new and stimulating. The foundation year gave me a sense of the worlds of fine art, applied art and craft. I chose the Drawing and Painting Department to continue. I have only a few things that I did during those years to show for many hours of work- most were discarded as learning exercises. By the fourth year after having a dozen or more instructors who all seemed to enjoy teaching, I determined to become a teacher.

At the end of each of the four years at O.C.A. my wife Ruth, son Dennis (Shawn would come later) and I would become nomadic and leave the city so I could find as good a paying summer job as possible that would help us through the next academic year. Even in the era of what were thought of by me to be generous student grants and loans, Ruth had to work first as a housekeeper then as a teller in banks. It took us eleven years to pay back the student loans. After Art College days Ruth graduated with a B.A. from The University of Guelph. During the years in Art College I worked evenings and weekends as a security guard. As a kind of experiment, I spent two long night shifts washing dishes and doing kitchen clean up at the Royal York Hotel before I realized I couldn't work all night and take classes all day- but it was a good experience- seeing the city at night.

It may seem unrelated here to write of my summer jobs, but those work experiences turned out to be useful in furthering my knowledge of the world outside an academic environment. I maintain that it cannot help but be useful for a young person, artist or otherwise to have experiences apart from those related to their field of study. Before finishing high school, I spent a summer in Hamilton working as a shear operator helper in the Steel Workers of America Union, cutting large pieces of steel for box cars. The summer before Art College was spent as an assembly line worker in a refrigerator factory. Then I spent a long five month summer as a member of the 'Hard Rock' Miners Union in Sudbury, the next year as  an orderly in a Psychiatric Hospital (an eye opener), then as a construction worker at the Goderich Salt mine, next a worker installing guard rails on the Don Valley Parkway (by far the most dangerous job). Later I drove a large ice cream delivery truck from Tobermory to Mississauga (as a member of the Teamsters Union). Then I masqueraded as a welder in a freezer factory and later as a machine operator in Dayton Steel (as a member of the Steel Workers of America) balancing truck tire rims. One summer was spent with a Landscape Gardening Business. I had some long lunch break conversations with the owner, a veteran of the German army in WW two. Those were conversations that gave me some perspective on the war, and I realized my limited knowledge of history. As well as the security guard job in Toronto, other part time jobs were- as a grocery store packer in Loblaws, a taxi driver in Guelph, an art instructor at the Guelph Correctional Center and an assistant for a short time (an interesting experience) to an Art Conservation expert Ursus Dix who was the son of artist Otto Dix. Because I had worked on dairy farms as a teenager and picked peaches and worked as a laborer on a tobacco farm, I knew what long hours of hard work and callouses on one's hands felt like. I am glad to have seen and appreciated how some who work at difficult jobs often have a hard life and how art plays a role in some way in most people's lives. I came to acquire the attitude that art did not have to be just for the 'elite'. Those jobs made me more sympathetic to people in general and some of the characters I worked with were subjects in later drawings. I discovered that when people found out that I was an art student (they would have called me an artist), they quite often spoke of their own interest in art and had questions for me. I suppose because I didn't fit the role of some stereotype they had about artists, (or maybe to be more honest, I lacked sophistication), they felt they could talk about even the minimal role art played in their life. Partly because of my upbringing and partly due to the contact with non-academic working people, I came to think about art as something for everyone. While I respected and even admired some of the Art instructors at O.C.A. and University who were legitimately among the Elite in their fields, I think some of them could have benefited by contact with non-academics. Even after long hot hours of labor in those summers I managed to do some painting.

In the third year at the Art College when I began to worry and wonder about making a living, I considered a career in the military. I even joined the Militia and was paid to train for a few months at the Moss Park Armory in downtown Toronto. Although I had really enjoyed a summer at an Army Camp as a teenager, my interest in the military now was mostly due to the cash that was given out at the end of each training session. Each of those jobs mentioned above provided a source of inspiration for small drawings done during those times. Unfortunately, some of them, in part caused my hearing loss. There is one color study remaining from a long rainy night in Guelph waiting for fares in the taxi.

At O.C.A. I came to appreciate a variety of media and to understand concepts like complex perspective, composition and the way colors interact. Although as people whose interest was in the production of art, I observed that most students were hungry to learn about Art History. My favorite classes were in figure (life) drawing and painting. I think most of my colleagues would probably agree that we were at the College at a good time. In spite of some political upheavals I got to make contact with those older 'traditional' artists as well as younger artists who were 'up to date' in a sense, working in the contemporary styles or trends of that time. Both groups seemed to me to be unnecessarily intolerant of each other but that had no effect on me at least. I did not form any firm ideologies about what Art is or should be in society. I just wanted to be able to make a convincing image. I was exposed to the Old Masters at the same time as I enjoyed seeing new trends in painting. I even tried to sit through one of Andy Warhol's epic seven-hour films. I recall having to leave to go to a part time job.

Apart from acquiring art skills, perhaps for me the most significant benefits came from being surrounded by talented people. I made quite a few short term and long term friends. Two of the latter category were very talented young men, Bob Race and Mike Doraty. They are gone now but two others- Al Holley and David Alexander remain good friends. Although he probably doesn't know it, David had a significant part in my awakening to the political and social realities of the time. That time of course was the era of the Viet Nam war. Part of what David made me aware of was through a mural he did and through I walk I took with him to a Viet Nam war protest in Nathan Phillips Square. Al was a good stabilizing influence when I found myself sometimes overwhelmed- and it wasn't just due to his legendary sense of humor. We all had good times together on 'pleine aire'- on the spot landscape painting trips and in 1969 we met A.Y. Jackson at the McMichael Collection. Perhaps the most influential of my colleagues was Peter Mah who spent part of a hot summer with my family living in a rural farmhouse while I worked on a construction site. It was his example of passion for his subject and his work ethic that were so inspirational. Without spending time with him and realizing what a passion for one's work looks like; I know I would never have witnessed those things firsthand. Just a few months prior to this writing Peter got me interested again in Tai Chi- something I did years ago but let slide. Peter is a multi-talented guy whose skills as a chef became apparent that summer. He went on to become Chairman of the Fine Art Department at O.C.A. which became OCAD.

One other young artist who was an influence was Roman Pokidko. He and I undertook a winter painting-camping trip in northern Ontario. While it was disastrous as a winter camping venture, it was not just due to that trip but from other times as well that I learned a lot from Roman regarding color. Another major influence was Eric Freifeld, the OCA drawing instructor whose acceptance of my interest in old ruins legitimized my efforts. Just mentioning one of the dozen or more inspirational OCA and University of Guelph instructors seems unfair, but this history is in danger of becoming too long. I am fortunate that through their help and example over six years, I came to realize that a painting that wasn't successful could still be something to be learned from. At O.C.A. Jim Tiley provided me with an understanding of art movements and contemporary trends. He did his best to move me away from my tendency to be illustrative but at times was supportive of what I was trying to do. Because of him, for my final year independent work I did some totally abstract works in wood. They were relief surface, intense color things and were fun to do. Other influential instructors were Carl Schaefer, John Alfsen, Fred Hagan, Francois Tepot, John Newman, Tom Lapierre, Gus Wiseman, and Viktor Tinkl. There were probably others whose name does not come to mind just now. One very influential artist/instructor was Anka Meyer who probably never realized how she influenced me to believe in myself and trust my instincts. Partly because of her, to this day I still don't regard works that I'm not happy with as failures the way failure is normally defined. If I did, I would have quit long ago. I suppose one could say my sense of self-worth isn't connected to any great degree to the success of my work. (I can imagine some people saying- thank the gods for that!)

The 1970s

My last year at O.C.A.- 1970, was also my first year at the University of Guelph. Entry into the University of Guelph threatened to be as anxiety ridden as was the first year at Art College. The two institutions had an arrangement whereby OCA graduates would be given credit equivalent to a year's semesters. My unease quickly changed when I found out that I was four years older than most of the students in the second-year classes and had more training in art techniques than they had. I also had a more mature work ethic and quickly became the Fine Art Department part time print shop technician. As at O.C.A., I noticed that the truly talented young people managed very well with little training but excelled when they undertook to master the demands of their media. The part time position eventually became a job in the Fine Art Department's first full time paying position. I spent long hours in the print shop and still painted at home. The printmaking processes became my passion. There are still a few prints that exist from that time and later. My interest was in large part thanks to Master Print Makers Gene Chu and Walter Bachinski. I owe a lot to both of them. They arranged the full-time job for me, and Walter later set me up as a Life Drawing instructor for one semester. While I really enjoyed the semester teaching and working with a model, I didn't feel I could financially meet the cost of a master’s degree needed to continue teaching at the university level. Another artist who I respected and learned a lot from while in Guelph was the sculptor John Fillion. He was the instructor assigned to mark my anatomy drawings. When he saw mine, he laughed and asked me: "what mark do you want?". I can't recall what I said but he said that he'd better not give me100 % because it would look suspicious. I managed to score high on the written and practical tests in the course, but the idea of medical illustration seemed too technical for me and I let it go. However, there were a couple of semesters in Guelph when the sale of my anatomy drawings and prints covered the cost of my tuition and more. 

At the end of my second semester I taught another Life Drawing class in the town I am presently writing this in- Owen Sound. It was around that time I had work in the Art Rental program at the Tom Thomson Gallery also in Owen Sound. I met many talented young people at Guelph and often wonder if they developed their art. For a few months I had some good times with one of them, a unique fellow student Paul Keel. Paul was the husband of the future writer Jane Urquhart. I think I may have learned more about the language of drawing from him than anyone. He loved to talk about the formal aspects of drawing. Paul was one of the first of too many young men I came to know and appreciate at a deeper level than just as a fellow students who died young. Two other influential young artists, I consider lifelong friends were met at Althouse (Teacher's College) at the University of Western Ontario. They were Mike Lapp and Tim Nimigan. I am glad they are still in contact from time to time. During our year at Teachers College in London, Mike and Roger Hill and I were part of a three man show in the Saint Thomas Elgin Art Gallery. There I was met and received some encouragement from one of the few remaining members of the Group of Seven A.J. Casson. While at Western I met a controversial figure Dan Logan. Dan was an original and in spite of how he annoyed some, for me he proved to be a wealth of technical knowledge of the history and methods of oil painting. Although we were quite different people, he was a great resource.

It was earlier in Guelph that I became intrigued in an 'Anatomy for Artist's' course. The anatomy course was taught by Dr. William Boyd, who was a wonderful example of how I thought teaching should be done. I spent many extra hours in the lab with cadavers for company. One of the prints- a large copper plate intaglio anatomy study I did in the anatomy lab earned me an award and is in the collection of the University of London Ontario and London Public Library Gallery collection. It is titled: "How Brief...". Another anatomy work, an engraving is in the University of Guelph collection. While working in the Anatomy Lab, which was on the campus of the Ontario Veterinary College, I was given a part time job by Dr. J. Stott, a researching veterinarian who was working on a chapter in a book of canine anatomy. The job was to use animal specimens- dog cadavers, to create illustrations that clarified the positions of veins, arteries and nerves in the confusion of a dog's internal organs. That job and the anatomy course initially caused me to think about medical illustration as a career. Seeing the work of the well-known medical illustrator Frank Netter was intimidating and I knew I would have to work hard to come even close to his level of skill if I were to pursue medical illustration as a career. As mentioned above I decided against it. 

Before that, in the summer of 1969 my wife and I drove our 1959 Volkswagen 'Bug' to Los Angeles via Route 66. Ruth was to be my sister Alice's bridesmaid. Ruth kept notes and swears that the cost of gas for our round trip was only 50 dollars. Those days driving through the wonderful variety of landscapes on route 66 had me thinking that I would like to return someday with my painting kit. The L.A County Art Gallery was a good experience. For part of the two and a half weeks we were in Los Angeles I accompanied Alice's husband Bud, a funeral home mortician, on his trips around the seedier districts of the city, including Watts picking up corpses- mostly those of victims of crime or suicide. That was after I had taken a short course on human anatomy at OCA given by Richard Nevitt and had privately looked at anatomical studies of other artists. The gruesome sights in Los Angeles were interesting to me in a way that others may have found too much. The embalming procedure after returning to the funeral home was equally intriguing. Both Alice and Bud were later very supportive of my drawing and painting. Tragically Bud died in a crash of his private plane just a few years later.

While at Guelph I was approached by Clair Stenning- a fine lady who gave me a one man show in her long-gone gallery- The Ten Mile House. That was the first of what became a lifelong showing of my work. That show consisted mostly of works that were based on abandoned buildings around Guelph when Stone Road was just a country road. It seems I never really actively pursued any exhibitions- they just seemed to present themselves. As well as the other opportunities he provided, Walter Bachinski recommended me for a position in 1974 instructing print makers in Arctic Quebec. That was a wonderful summer spent with Inuit artists of the village of Inoucdjuac (now spelled Inukjuak). It is on the east coast of Hudson's Bay well beyond the tree line. I spent the next year doing a series of, acrylic paintings of the tundra and the landforms that were of a beautiful world to the north that few have the chance to see. I started some drawings while there which I worked up later. The Arctic job took place the summer before I started my first year teaching high school in Elmira with George Ceasar. He was a great teacher to start my teaching career with. Because of him I seriously wondered at the time if I should have stayed in that school. I finished 20 large canvases during that first year of teaching.

My second job teaching school was in Brantford. The move was because there was a large Art Department and they invited me to come as a printmaking specialist. Doug Hughes was experienced, and I wasn't, so his examples of classroom management gave me some insights into better ways of doing things. The other younger art teacher David Moore arranged a two-man exhibition for H.W.Whitwell and me in the Glenhyrst Gallery in Brantford. A school trip arranged by David to New York City was the first of over 20 trips I later made to the Big Apple in following years. Just a year later David died when an airport passenger loading ramp collapsed. He wrote for local papers and in an article, which was a critique of my work, his honest appraisal caused me to have a lot of respect for his intellect as well as his creativity. As with Paul Keel, I was to miss the contact with an inquiring and informed mind. In the same year I received a surprise visit one evening from an entrepreneur James Jack. He and Ken Synchism (forgive the spelling Ken) had been driving around the province in a truck in a romantic quest collecting paintings directly from young artists for a collection of work he was planning to sell in a new art gallery he was building in Windsor. His gallery was named The Artist's Showplace and when he left that night, I was delighted to have received an unexpected and sizable cheque. In 1978 my young family and I drove to British Columbia. We had a good time on that trip and although I took a lot of photographs I did only a few paintings. One of them of course was of Lake Louise.

Near the end of the 70's I had some very good times in a print shop in Elora working with two   good friends I had met at the U. of G. They were Werner H. Zimmermann and Barry McCarthy. While in Elora, I produced some etchings of Elora buildings (now gone). The two young men, my partners for a time, have become well known respected artists. Their talent and creativity remain an inspiration for me. We owed the establishment of that print shop to a generous man named Bill Robinson.

In 1976 my family moved to the small town of Palmerston where I taught Art and English for 27 years in a North Welligton County school called Norwell. During that time, I became happily reacquainted with an old associate Bill Acres. Some years earlier Bill and I had gotten together as jurors for a jury show in Guelph. Bill was a wonderfully eccentric artist who generously gave me 13 grueling days as van driver, cook, campsite finder, and procurer of fine whiskey. He did that looking after five teenagers and myself during close to a thousand miles (on secondary roads) cycling to Ottawa (and most significantly back!) Bill was an unusual sort of source of inspiration for me, and I often came away from a chat with Bill (whether he was sober or not) with a shift in the way I saw things. I had an exhibition in Bill's Kurtzville Country Gallery. For close to two years Bill had volunteered to come into my classes to spread the word of 'Abstract Expressionism'. Not long after the cycling trip Bill and his youngest son Michael died in a tragic house fire. Bill and I had some great discussions or arguments or 'philosophical' conversations, sometimes verging on absurdity but a lot of fun. Michael Ondaatje dedicated his book 'In the Skin of a Lion' in part to Bill and Michael. When I gave a eulogy at Bill's funeral, I forgot that Bill's wife Betty Ann asked me to say, "Bill painted life with a full brush". I hope this makes up for that in a small way Betty Ann. Another loyal friend I met in early days at Norwell and still see from time to time is the historian Bob McEachern. He was often someone I relied on for advice.

The 1980s

Early in the 1980's I was doing quite a bit of painting in an attic studio in our house in Palmerston. At a couple of art teacher's conferences, I was fortunate to strike up a kind of friendship with Ken Danby. I had met him while at the University of Guelph years earlier when he had welcomed me to visit his country studio. He generously spent a couple of afternoons with me discussing his own work and the drawings I brought with me. I was impressed with his craftsmanship. Later I found myself defending him against an onslaught of condemnation from Post Modernists when he criticized contemporary trends in Art and in education.

In those years I also did quite a bit of developing and printing of black and white photographs in a well-equipped darkroom I established in the high school in Palmerston. I enjoyed teaching and in 1985 was honored by winning the Award of Merit among the 500 teachers in Wellington county. Earlier in this decade I reconnected with a sculptor friend Armand Buzzbuzzian from our University of Guelph days. He came to my school to conduct an 'Artist in the Schools' course in sculpture. We had a great couple of months team teaching and after classes discussing his problems with motivation. We took his class to his family foundry in Guelph and watched the casting process of the students work. I knew he was a troubled soul, but it was a shock to his students and myself when he took his own life the day before he was to give his last class. Not long after another friend, a skilled photographer and school audio visual 'tech' Henry Derkson, died suddenly. For over two years Henry and I had many pleasant hours making music, playing hockey and exploring dark room techniques. For those years Henry and I had a lot of discussions about photographic art and darkroom techniques. Henry was also very knowledgeable about one of my favorite subjects in two-dimensional work- composition. When he died it seemed to me that I had lost more than my share of influential friends.

While still teaching in Palmerston my wife, son Shawn and I moved to a country place near Harriston called Minto Glen. In an old but solid barn I built two all season studios- one for my wife Ruth's Pottery and one for myself. Those were years of great times at Thanksgiving when old friends would visit, and we would paint outdoors as we did decades before. During the 1980's I ran in some 10 Km races and did a lot of medium to long distance road cycling sketching trips to the 'Near North' from which a few landscape paintings resulted. In 1985 Joan Chandler invited me to have a one man show at a recently opened gallery called the Blyth Festival Theater Gallery. There is only one surviving record of that show. Around 1986 I met Tony Lucciani, one of the most skillful and creative artists I have known. Each time I saw Tony's new work I felt the thrill of beholding something that came from a deep place of concepts and incredible technical skill. Tony always graciously invited me in on unannounced visits and his work remains an inspiration. Late in the 1980's I developed severe tinnitus, and something called hyperacusis which is a sensitivity to certain frequencies of sound. Tinnitus is, in my case, a distracting screeching in both ears that accompanies hearing loss. I had to start to wear hearing aids and the classroom environment became intolerable, so I was forced to go on disability for 18 months. Fortunately, I developed a tolerance for the distracting sounds, but still have to avoid sudden loud sounds of a certain frequencies. I returned to teaching, but I did very little painting in that period.

In 1987 I invited Bob Race, a classmate from two decades earlier, to come to Palmerston to teach with me. Bob and I had kept in close touch during the decades after Art College. For two years Bob and fellow teacher Greg Paget and I had what we called a philosophical discussion group. Among other interests we were all dark room photographers who enjoyed discussing each other’s work. I was a bit of a hack piano player. Greg was a decent singer and Bob was learning to play the steel guitar. We laughed about the fun it would be to make a band. During the short time Bob was teaching with me we were both painting almost daily. Bob and Greg died in car accidents just a month or so apart at the end of the school year 1989. Preparing another eulogy, I began to wonder if I were a jinx. I mention here the loss of all these young men because in the years I knew them, our relationships were not just as friends but as valuable critics of each other’s work. Those relationships were integral to my work. Ever since Art College days I had come to find discussions of my work with friends, or anyone who was open about their opinions, worthwhile in terms of generating ideas for experimenting in composition and technique. We also shared our feelings and ideas about finding inspiration and motivation. We gave and took advice freely but probably never really acted on it. It seemed to me that we were as immune to criticism as were to praise and just wanted to excel in our craft or develop our ideas. Most of the time our talks were about Greg's philosophical interests and the formal stuff of composition in photography and what was going on in the larger Art World. Although we recognized the 'spirit' of each other’s work we only rarely talked about our work or our chosen subject matter in very personal terms.

Bob and Greg accepted my statement that my work was always about my subject- never about me. Bob called me a 'subject painter' and was a factor in my realization that some of my work that tended to be 'illustrative' had to have something more than just the surface appearance of things. I felt my work was based on what the subject had to say for itself but realized that the aesthetic object- that is the painting has to be interesting as an 'object' in and of itself. My claim that my work was only about my subject, never about me had caused heated debates years earlier with a few members of the University of Guelph Psychology Department. Its Grad students had offices in the same building (Zavit's Hall) as the Print Shop where I worked. Some of them as Freudians, were never convinced that I wasn't trying to "express myself". They even seemed disappointed and upset when I claimed that the works were not about me and I wasn't trying to 'say anything' but hoped the treatment of my subjects spoke to the viewer. It remains 'for me', that the 'work itself' is the thing- not who did it or why. I speculated that if they saw nothing in the works without knowing the artist's intention, it was because they had little in their own inner resources that an aesthetic experience could draw out or resonate with. In retrospect that may have been rather mean spirited of me. After a lot of courses studying the history of Art and Artists I had come to enjoy the work of all genres and styles and experimented with a few things that were about 'self-expression' and came to understand that 'for me' there was just no motivation to 'express myself ', at least at a conscious level. I hasten to say I appreciate the work of others for whom expression of their ideas and feelings is their motivation. When art becomes only decorative, didactic or propaganda-like it can become tiresome but generally I find all art forms interesting and am intrigued by present day productions that exploit the wonders of contemporary digital technology. Perhaps some find it curious that someone who paints as I have in a representational manner can actually really enjoy the art of the abstract painter, the 'conceptual' artist, the multi-media artist, the videographer/film maker and the installation artist. For me it is the creativity, imagination, intelligence and often skill displayed that makes a good work regardless of the medium. The eye-popping visual dynamism of some intelligent contemporary art is pushing the limits of all media. Digital technology is sure to expand what can be done and I look forward to seeing what the future holds- maybe even the art of A.I.

I started this thinking I would just trace the years of study and exhibitions. I did not expect to mention so many names- especially those old friends now gone. Writing has often lead me to where I did not expect. Now it seems reasonable to have done so since those friends were so influential to my work. I owe them more than a mere mention here can give. With the loss of each of these young fellow artists I felt a break with contacts that were rich with ideas ranging from current art developments, to spiritual matters, to music, to literature and poetry, to painting techniques and inspiration. There were also feelings of guilt that lingered, especially for the death of Bob Race since I had invited him to teach with me. Since they were all more talented than I, I cannot help but wonder where their talents would have taken them. I know that loss of good friends seemingly so close together, has given me an appreciation of friends I still have, and gratitude for the time I have been given.

The 1990s

In 1991 I received an Ontario Arts Council Grant, thanks to George Maier and a new fellow art teacher at Norwell- Monika Lassner from whom I learned a lot about Art teaching in ways that I hadn't thought of. In some ways Monika provided me with some of the same sort of contact I had with my friends now gone. Those years were the continuation of my 'missing' Bob and Greg and the beginning of some health problems. I regret that I wasn't a better colleague for Monika but she kindly didn't seem to hold my intolerance and impatience against me. From her I was reacquainted with what creativity can look like in a variety of media. The grant mentioned was for an exhibition in the Durham Art Gallery where I showed some of the drawings done from the area around where I grew up. There were also some figurative sculptures based on the characters of my childhood. During this time, I was still taking sketching trips to places like Algoma, north of Lake Superior and Algonquin Park. In the summer of 1992, my wife and I went to Ireland- the land of our paternal ancestors. From that trip I did a few drawings. After a trip to Newfoundland in 1995 I did a few landscape studies as well as some drawings of a few unique Newfoundland vehicles and one small iceberg painting. A trip to Mexico in the March break in this decade was relaxing and although I took a few photographs and did one drawing nothing came from that experience art-wise. Before my father's death in November 1992 I finished a large three-part canvas portrait of him. It has since been reduced to a two-part portrait.

During the 90s autumn and sometimes Thanksgiving visits from old colleagues Mike, Dave, Al, Roman and sometimes Peter continued, and we painted in all weather in the pleine aire manner the landscape around Minto Glen. I began to think that October was the ideal month for painting outside. Thanks to Mona Istrati-Mulhern who was very cooperative, I had an exhibition of paintings and drawings at the Serrenwood Gallery in Goderich. We called that exhibition: "Mostly Ashfield". An alternative title was "The Edge of the Lake". I mention it here because I returned to doing work from the area of my original home at this time. The Goderich exhibition featured paintings of the township of Ashfield in Huron County which was established in 1842. My great grandfather Maurice Dalton who immigrated to Huron County from Ireland in 1841 became the first Reeve of Ashfield township. An uncle- the old soldier Chaplain major Mike Dalton surprised me by being at the opening and buying two works. The paintings were mostly around the lake where I grew up and the Goderich harbor from which my father set sail into Lake Huron as a Great Lakes seaman in 1953. Goderich was also the town where my father was born in 1907 and where I came into being 40 years later and where I went to high school. In the language of the 1960's high school was quite a 'trip'. High school friendships can be intense but fleeting. Two of the good friends I still retain from those years are Ric McGratten and Dave Murphy. It was in Goderich that Elizabeth of Elizabeth's Art Gallery became a valued resource as a fellow artist and for over a decade made many dozens of well-crafted prints of my work. That continues to this day. In the mid 90's I was invited to put work in the theater lobby in Wingham and later had an exhibition in the newly opened Glendenning Gallery in Arthur. In 1998 my friend Al Holley had the brilliant idea for the two of us to mount an exhibition in the Harriston Library Gallery. Al has a terrific sense of humor and our first idea was to do something light-hearted together. Al came up with the name of the show: "Two Old Boars Like Us". Al's poster still makes me smile, but time slipped away on us. Al put up some fine work, but my contribution was mostly work that was previously done.

In this decade I had my first experience doing something that could be called a 'hobby'. My son Dennis had made a couple of Cedar strip canoes and I thought a nice paddle would be good to go with them. Dennis was the first to do a painting on a paddle and I followed his example. For about over three years I worked on unfinished wooden canoe paddles- silk screening, air brushing, painting and varnishing (the slowest step). My subjects were mostly wildlife, some with poetry. Over those years I produced and sold over 700 paddles. The biggest order one year was from the Owen Sound Fishing Derby which used them as prizes. Since I wasn't doing much painting around then, this production of useful and aesthetically pleasing 'things' seemed to be satisfying enough- at least for a while. Eventually it became repetitive and tiresome and I sold all my images and screens.

The 2000s

After I took retirement as early as possible in 2003, Ruth and I moved to a place that was within walking distance to Lake Huron and not far from where I grew up. I did a lot of drawings and photography there on the beach in all seasons. Although we were only there for about a year and a half, I still have many sketches that I thought I'd like to work from someday. That may still happen. In that short time, I enjoyed the same sort of contact with the lake and the beach that I experienced as a child. For my first 18 years of my life the lake was often the first thing I saw when I awoke and the last thing I saw in the evening, and even heard on stormy days. It was the place I found refuge from childhood stress and anxiety. I grew up as a child of the Lake, the beach, the creeks, rivers, fields and bush lots in the area. After the exhibition in Goderich with paintings of the region, someone asked me if I ever considered myself a 'Regionalist Artist'. That could have been true but I'm not a fan of defining terms. 

We moved to the village of Ripley in 2004. Ruth had started an almost a decade long pottery business selling her pottery and giving classes, so it was easier to live in the village. She also did a lot of local craft sales. In the same building as her pottery workshop we set up a painting studio where I gave drawing and painting classes and had an art gallery. Ruth and I had some of our most productive 10.    years while there. A trip to the Baron Canyon in Algonquin Park was a highlight of my sketching trips. On one memorable trip I spent a few days with a new friend Arnold Clifford and his friend Alex. We traveled to a unique geological feature- the Palisades of the Pijitawabik region near Lake Nipigon. Arnold was familiar with the area but only while driving his long-haul truck. The Palisades consists of cliffs as high as 500 feet and I managed a couple of decent paintings from that trip. Arnold is a creative guy who has proven himself to be resourceful and of strong character. Living in Ripley I spent a lot of time on images of the beach, the lake and a plant with a poor reputation- namely the Hollyhock. Those were the years when I first had giclee prints made from my paintings. Sometime in those years Jodi Jerome wrote a generous critique in a published article describing my work. I am grateful to her for that. In Ripley we sold enough pottery, prints, and paintings to have had a successful little business.

The 2010s

In 2013 while in Ripley I was invited to be the first artist to exhibit in the newly opened Minto Arts Gallery in Harriston. I appreciated the opportunity given to me by familiar Harriston people and have Wesley Bates to thank for hanging the show. Wesley also contributed to a video of that exhibition made by Tall Tale Media. The video can be seen at: briandaltonartist on vimeo. In Ripley I completed a 'Graphic Novelette' for the Royal Ontario Museum. Forty thousand copies were printed and sent to schools. Unfortunately, my remuneration was only a one-time fee. Inspired by that work I began research for an illustrated version of my Uncle Mike's War Diary. In 2013 we moved to Owen sound. Ruth continues to have a good pottery shop, and I had a full apartment style granny flat studio to work in. From early in 2012 until late 2016 I did almost nothing but work on 200 black and white illustrations for 350 of my uncle's diary entries. In 2016 my granddaughter Jasmin set up a crowd funding site on Kickstarter and thanks to her and donations from friends and relatives we made more than enough money to print a run of 500 books. By good luck the book came out just before Remembrance Day and it was featured on November 11th on the covers of the London Free Press, the Windsor Star, the Catholic Digest, the Owen Sound Sun Times and the Goderich Signal Star. A video review on a CKCO Kitchener television newscast by Scott Miller helped and we quickly sold out. After sales via email orders and in books stores and museums1200 books have now been printed. 

Making the War Diary illustrations was the most demanding but intriguing project I have ever undertaken. The work involved in image research to make the illustrations authentic was time consuming and demanding. There were often times of emotional overload while reading and rereading about the suffering soldiers went through. It seemed that in those years suicides in the military and men suffering from PTSD were often in the news. I was glad when my uncle would bring his sense of humor to bear on otherwise unbearable situations. Meeting a few PTSD suffering soldier veterans at bookstore readings and in the hospital left me exhausted. However, feed-back from close to two hundred people through emails or letters, who bought books and knew my uncle or who had relatives in his Regiment- the Essex Scottish, left me feeling that it was worth it. Two of my sister Frances' daughters my nieces Kathleen and Maria were great helpers in the book project. Kathleen did the final editing and wrote a thoughtful review and Maria helped distribute the book in her area near Windsor. Tim Wellstead a bookstore owner and a military medals expert, wrote the introduction to the Diary and was essential to my research. I will always be grateful to him for his advice on military matters- and other things.

Before I got very far into the illustrations for the Diary, I felt I'd like to get an opinion about my work from Wesley Bates. He was someone I knew to be a skilled craftsman and a talented designer. Wesley is a gifted wood engraver and I asked him for his advice about what I was doing. That was one of the smarter things I did because his observations helped me to focus on the importance of sound drawing and to look as objectively as I could at what I was doing. I later attended Wesley's interesting and informative workshop on the skills and methods of wood engraving. This was conducted at The Grey Gallery in Owen Sound and gave me an insight into just how skilled wood engravers are.

When we left Ripley, I left some artwork in Ruth's previous shop where Susan Nichol took over successfully with her unique hand-made pottery. Susan is ending her stay in Ripley as of Feb. 2020. Her studio there had become a destination and I wish her well in her home studio. After we moved to Owen Sound in 2013 an acrylic painting of an attic was deemed the people's choice in an Owen Sound Artist's Co Op exhibition, and I was given a show in the 'Artist of the Month' category. After speaking of the War Diary in schools, the Owen Sound Library, the Kingsbridge Community center, bookstores and the Billy Bishop Museum, and the marketing of the book was completed I felt energy return. In 2018 I started a series of paintings of waterfalls and oak trees. In September of 2019 I spent a pleasant few days with my old friend from Art College days Peter Mah. That was just before finishing the waterfalls paintings and was just what I needed for the final push to finish the series. Peter's wife Julia, an intelligent painter and writer has been a good critic of both my painting and attempts at writing. I appreciate her honest observations and thoughtful encouragement very much. There is one other person I want to mention here as an interesting, often inspiring character. In 2017 Bill Kelly introduced himself to me. He overheard me telling someone about the closing of the church in Kingsbridge. He spoke in ways not heard by me since taking a course on mysticism fifty years earlier. Bill defines himself as a Medium. In our conversations he has given me a lot of food for thought. It is not only his 'esoteric' spiritual ideas I find interesting; it is the way he has a practical approach to living while being aware there is more to life than meets the eye. Although he defines me as a non-believer, I find his enthusiasm for helping others admirable and I think Bill Kelly Spirit Messages is worth checking out.

Early in 2018 I walked into the Grey Gallery on 3rd Ave. East in Owen Sound and was delighted   to meet a couple who were establishing a new commercial gallery in town. Anne Dondertman and John Laughlin are the gallery owners. John had been a student at the Art College in the years just after I graduated so we had quite a bit in common. John works with the figure in his art and he and Anne have a very impressive book collection. After some discussion we arranged for an exhibition of my work to be shown in November 2019. From 2013 to 2018 I had been going on sketching trips to the local waterfalls in all seasons. As well I had made many trips to the historic Leith Cemetery- the last resting place (it is assumed) of Tom Thomson- the artist who inspired The Group of Seven. I completed some of the studies I started of the large white oak at the entrance to the Cemetery. In November the gallery show 'Local Landmarks' opened with paintings of waterfalls, oak trees and a display of the War Diary drawings. As well as selling a few things, including some War Diary books, it was gratifying to see familiar faces and some new ones. Anne and John are contributing to the visual arts culture of the area and thanks to them I have met some of Owen Sound's painters, poets, writers and musicians.

I have never written to this extent about the history of my art endeavors before this and I can think of no reason why I would ever do this again so I have been thinking as I go along, that I might as well make this as complete as is reasonable. Some may think that my expressions of gratitude for meeting people who became significant and my including their names here could be an overstatement of their importance to me. It is not so. It has begun to seem to me that because this is likely to be a 'one-time thing' I should include the inspiration and help I have received from others as well. I have come to realize that my personal relationships have been perhaps more meaningful than anything else in my life. In my first draft of this, as I considered what I had been doing in decades past I couldn't help but think of the people mentioned here that I knew at those times. It is especially the works and words of the young artists I knew that are still strong in my memory. The understanding of the significance of others in one's life- that is one's relationships, may already be realized in the minds of those legions of wiser-than-I folks, but this exercise has caused me to see that significance more clearly.

My wife and best friend Ruth has been everything I have needed for more than half a century. For that I will always be grateful. From the earliest years of seeing the raw creativity of my young children Dennis and Shawn, and then their children- Jasmin and Lauren, and the generation younger - Chloe, Clara and Michael, to seeing my wife become an expert potter and later in life a competent fiddler, I know I have been lucky to have had them all in my life. Those first young children have become creative adult explorers - Dennis in photography and painting and Shawn as a talented musician. Shawn may well be the only Toronto police officer with a degree from York University in Fine Art/Music. As a teenager Shawn made a meteoric rise to becoming a skilled guitar playing and later a piano player. It was fun to watch as he and his high school band spent a couple of years performing. Thinking of my sons causes me to realize that their spouses also complete the theme of people I have known who are involved in creative endeavors. Dennis' wife Mary Jane is an artisan who makes and sells her own hand made soap, and Shawn's wife Sheila is a self-employed Graphic Artist.  

 It would be thoughtless of me not to mention the support of my immediate and extended family- aunts and uncles and cousins, many of whom have given me money for a little paint on a piece of canvas stretched over a wooden frame. My sister Alice was an early supporter as were my other siblings. Alice has been generous in her continuing support of not just of me but of younger family members as well. She seems to have inherited the generous nature of our father and come to think of it so have my other siblings- Frances, Maurice and Maria. Cousin Pat O'Connor who is 99 years young at the time of this writing, was a faithful companion via the telephone while I labored on the War Diary. She was at the train station in Toronto when our Uncle Mike returned from the war. She provided me with a sense of both the pre and post war eras. Her brother Denis was an early enthusiastic supporter of the War Diary as well. Another cousin among many I appreciate is Dr. Dan Dalton who has been very generous in his support over the years. My brother in law Gord Hardcastle has purchased more of my drawings than anyone. Maria, my little sister holds the record for most Diary books sold on my behalf. It seems this gratitude I feel for the support I have been given from so many should not end without a thank you to the many other people who have purchased my work- too many to mention here. An early sale of a sort- a surprise bartering exchange, happened when I was16 and Sandy MacDonald of Kintail General Store and Gas Station took as trade my drawing of a horse for a tank of gas for my 1947 Dodge. In1963 gas was 30 cents a gallon. I cannot remember if my gas tank was near empty or not, but it was fun to think I could realize some monetary value from one little drawing.

When I mention family members as inspiring, I have to include and thank my mother Irene. She was a hard-working, poetry loving gardener and quilt maker who wouldn't let me quit piano lessons. Every day on the piano bench I thank her for that. I should mention it was the $50.00 that old soldier uncle Mike gave my family to buy a piano that made it affordable. It might have been because I saw my mother making thousands of stitches, that I wasn't impressed when people said to me that there were a lot of brush strokes in my paintings. Thanks to her and my father, also named Dennis, in my middle years of high school I was given a correspondence (mail-in) course in art. Without that I am certain I never would have passed the practical drawing test that was required for admission to the Art College. Every two weeks for two years I would send a drawing 'test' in the mail to 'Art Instruction Schools' in Minneapolis Minnesota where artists like Charles Schultz, who worked there for a time, would make corrections and send the drawings back to me. Maybe now that I am 72 and have no reason not to, I can finally disclose something I heretofore thought might cause people to see my work in a diminished way (silly me - silly them). It has not exactly been a secret but my application to the Ontario College of Art was initially turned down. I was told not to give up hope because I was high on a waiting list. I have almost no memory of the daze I was in for the few weeks that passed until I was informed that I was enrolled to start in September 1966. This is the point where a real writer might draw a conclusion that is profoundly wise, but I will leave that up to the reader. All I can conclude is that I later found myself sympathetic to all my students regardless of their academic or artistic status and tried to help them believe that their dreams are as good as anyone's and can be achieved in spite of obstacles along the way.

The 2020s

Now in early 2020 the work of the past two years is completed, and it feels like another one of those times in my life when I need to 'feed' myself psychologically and replenish my energy. In the past that often happened through being in touch with the creations of others in music, art and literature, including that Great artist Mother Nature. As usually happens for me, after that there comes a period of almost isolation and the beginning of new work when I start to crave solitude. There are many different subjects and themes I'd still like to explore and there are no flies on me yet. I am hoping that my Muses will help me decide what is most worth doing.

If you have read this far and are involved in creative endeavors - not all of which I classified as 'artistic', you might enjoy the words of John Green whose philosophy seems to parallel my own. He wrote:

" Don't make 'stuff' because you want to make money - it will never make you enough money. And don't make 'stuff' because you want to get famous - because you will never feel famous enough."

As I said at the start of this, the world does not need to see what I have done. Years-ago, in spite of showing my work, I was accused of "hiding my light under a bushel". I did not think of things that way, I was just more interested in the 'doing' than the marketing. Now, with this Web Site, that silly accusation has been put to rest. I find I am still compelled to do what I do, just for the satisfaction of making stuff and I hope that 'stuff' holds some interest and possibly even brings pleasure to whoever sees it.