Barbara Cole

12 08 2015

Everything began early and abruptly for Cole. And everything that happened to her contributed a good deal to the artist she was to become. She was modeling, for example, when she was still a teenager. And although she dropped out of high school in grade twelve, she found herself, virtually overnight, transported from a temporary job as a secretary to—remarkably—the position of fashion editor for the Toronto Sun. This was in 1972. The position became an intense, hectic, protracted, hands-on photography course for a woman who, at this time, was still only nineteen years old.

“I came to be an artist simply by taking pictures”, Cole told me recently, and indeed what better way is there? Newspaper staff photographers apparently dislike doing fashion shoots, Cole assured me (it seems you couldn’t win awards that way), and so, in the Toronto Sun’s then non-unionized shop, Cole undertook them herself, learning as she went. The staff photographers seemed happy enough to teach her darkroom techniques, and within a couple of years she was creating fashion layouts for the paper, writing articles, and, more importantly, travelling the globe, taking runway photos in Paris, New York and everywhere else the momentary urgencies of fashion beckoned.





Art Venti

12 08 2015

Tissues are as humble and fragile as human lives, and living those lives crumples each into a unique form. Through death and tragedy, people clutch at tissues in a futile attempt to hold back a river of tears. Working as an artist is my strongest defense of our fragile existence. As I endeavor to leave my mark in the world around me, I am reminded that mortality is a powerful adversary to be counteracted with beauty.

So says artist Art Venti. Of course it is not just tears that tissues are used for. Venti may be the first artist to have his work referred to as ‘snot art’. Bad puns aside I am quite taken with the photographs of his tissues. It looks like science fiction. Multi-dimensional.

I used to be obsessed with patterns when I was younger. I think it has something to do with pattern recognition. Or maybe bi-polarism. I used to drop drops of ink on a paper and then blow them around using a straw. After they’d dried I would look for faces. You wouldn’t (or you would) believe how many comic facial features arise. Great if you’re a cartoonist.





Street Art 5

12 08 2015

Street art 5by David Halliday





Electric Loneliness

12 08 2015

Elvis was so lonely. He felt like he was just someone made up in his momma’s dreams. And when she died. He had no place to rest his head. And sleep.

Electric Loneliness





The Farmer

12 08 2015

After working all day in the field, he returned to his home. Everything was gone. Meaning. Her.

The Farmer