Wednesday, December 6, 1916
The truth to painting is that it can be thankless, frustrating and downright degrading. On the other hand, it can be illuminating, exuberant and uplifting. But it is never anywhere in between. If it was, painting would be no more meaningful than painting the side of a wall, only to hide the stains of smoke and wood fire.
I was both sides on the end today but I did finish my painting with the pointer boats. At the start of the day I had the feeling of utter failure, but by the end I was exuberant. It has turned out to be a fine canvas.
After dusk, I walked down Rosedale Ravine to get a good view of the Bloor Street Viaduct under construction. It looks like two mechanical behemoths reaching to touch each across the Valley. I can see the men working up there, the night crew. It’s a sight to behold. Soon the Danforth will be joined to Bloor, a constant march of progress. But I overheard the other day some folks in Rosedale are worried about rats coming across the bridge to infest the neighbourhood. I wanted to interject and say that rats were already in Rosedale. But I decided to stay silent on the matter. Rosedale folks need to keep their beliefs intact, especially during the War.