The Byward Market at night

I started on this painting at 7 PM. It was a beautiful day and the night was equal. There were many people walking around. I painted for many hours. As the night settled. There was a young street kid. He was about 19 or so. The night was dark he fell asleep in front of a shop door (next to Sugar Mountain). He used his skateboard as a pillow. For a little duration of time I wanted to go wake him up. Not disrupt his sleep, but wake him up, kick me in the ass. But the way I looked at it was if life has not kicked him hard enough in the ass than nothing is going to wake him up. Perhaps he has been kicked too hard, and needs compassion, understanding and encouragement. But to be blunt and honest I am too selfish and would rather paint the above painting rather than focus on an individual living sleeping in front of a closed shop.

So it was time to paint. Time to focus. It was Tuesday night or Wednesday morning.

At 4:15 am the flood lights on the top of the pub turned off. At this time the light on the top of the pole cast a dramatic unexpected shadow on the pavement. I used my head lamp (from Mountain Equipment CO - OP) to help me see my palette and canvas.

At about 4:45 am the sun started to rise. So this painting is a portrait of the Market between 4:15 - 4:45 am. Once the sun surfaced the sea gulls started to cry out for food. I would say sing but it was more a barking noise. I kept painting and finished off the little pieces of the painting. The city was starting to move. Skate board pillow boy was deep asleep. I had finished the painting, packed up my equipment, and biked home - towards the sun.

I showered, had something to eat. And went to sleep at 6:46 am. I slept for a few hours. And started a new day with breakfast with Erika and Isabelle at 9:30 am. I was just so wire and alive.

The below poem was written about when I lived (1998) in a communal living space with three heroin addicts and a guy living with aids on skid row.

Titled: another blank canvas

needles on the floor
cockroaches crawling on the stove

heroin addicts having conversations
about methadone and bones that itch

standing in a fool line
outside the Salvation Army

people waiting for
Welfare Wednesday

living behind the Needle Exchange
below the Lucky Lodge Hotel

this heart refuses to stop
beating beating dreaming

every morning
between 7-8 am I start

time to work on another
blank canvas.

Written Dec 23rd 2004