My Imaginary Wood Lot

 Buses, Cars, people on foot and on bikes, street cars and trucks pass by and through this location in down town Toronto everyday barely noticing it's beauty. I have looked at for 30 years or more and only with Covid restrictions preventing me from getting out of the urban (not) jungle it became a spot to go to and drawn nature.

 looking east towards the Don Valley Parkway Dec 3, 2020 3:45 pm

looking to the north noticing details

November 29 2020 3:15 pm

nature can deal with humans if left to its own devices  November 2020 3:00 pm 

a view north through Riverdale Park from the north side of where River Street goes down to Bayview Dec 6 2020 2:45 pm

January 25 2021 2:45 pm

the opposite view of the first drawing so looking west from the Eastside of my imaginary wood lot

as it nears the end of February i went out again 

February 24, 2021 4pm under cloudy skies

 

The Story of A Fried Egg. 1990 performance script

Title Card/ slide used in the second performance at Artspace in 1993

The Story of a Fried Egg is a story about the excitement. caution and joy of my 7 year old self cooking a fried egg secretly and for the first before my parents got up. I had seen both my mother and father at the stove, had watched them like a hawk so had enough chutzpah at 7 to try. I combined that story with my then (1990) current HIV+ reality of having to take 5 different pills a day some on an empty stomach some with food.along with constantly having blood work.

It  was written as a monologue and preformed at Artspace in Peterborough Ontario and the end of a two months Artist Residency called "The Nancy Ward" in July and August 1990. Artspace was then located in what became the Market Hall Performing Arts Centre If you follow the Market hall link and see what it looks like now, that is not the configuration of the space as it was in 1990. Back then it was a space divided in two with a performance space with a bank of tiered risers with chairs for seating in the south end and large open gallery space in the north. In other words it was a giant playpen for me to play in and invite the public in to mill about or join in. 

poster for The Nancy Ward: Joe Lewis in residence Jul2 2 -August 30 1990

If you want to perform this monologue yourself here are the stage directions. notes on set costume props and images for slides. since it begins with you sauntering in to the spotlight carrying a Aida or shopping bag and singing the 1953 song "Young At Heart" a ballad with music by Johnny Richards and lyrics by Carolyn Leigh.  that Frank Sinatra had a mega hit with,  you need to learn it



now that the song is in your head we'll proceed.
 
Production needs:

sketch for a set idea 1990

Set:an ironing board.  and a chair in front of a slide screen (projections are optional but the projected text is integral to the meaning of the performance but not the story)

 costume:pants, a baggy T shirt tucked into pants, a watch with alarm vintage Adidas Bag or large shoulder bag or  plastic shopping bag 

props: large bag with bottle of water and plastic cups and 20 to 30 pill bottles ( please note performance may be done wet or dry)

sound track: (optional) radio playing low and an alarm clock being set off by stage manager at regular intervals of three minutes 

screen shot from documentation of first performance at Artspace, August 29, 1990

Action: story teller enters from audience carrying all props in bag with them, singing strains of "Young at Heart" stands at ironing board and opens the bag, takes out the water bottle and glass, and begins to tell the STORY OF THE FRIED EGG.

procedure with stage manager and alarm clock:

When the alarm is sounded the story teller must stop and preform the following tasks. open the bottle of water and pour an inch of it into the glass, set both down, then reach into the bag and bring out a pill bottle, stand up, pull open the front of the underskirt and drop the pill bottle into the shirt and pour the water out of cup onto a closed mouth ,wipe the mouth sit down and continue with the story. this action must be repeated every time the alarm is heard.

procedure without stage manager and alarm clock:

The performer will stop the story at several intervals look at their watch announce a progression of times from seven thirty five AM onward until eight thirty am and upon announcing a time, perform the task with the pill bottles as described above.

When the story is finished being told (cue line Woody Wood Pecker is over now)_(the alarm should be left to ring while) the performer pulls up the front of the underskirt and wipes their face and neck while the pill bottles fall with a crash to the floor. end of action freeze to the beat of 10. Then lift a cupped hand to the ear a speak last two lines in a slight whisper (alarm off radio up )

second slide

Text with text from optional slides indicating the break in story for task performance.

Be aware that text as written here is only the basic story, the story changes and expands with improvisation as it is preformed

THE STORY OF A FRIED EGG

This is the story of a fried egg and a story about all the independence that came to the seven year old who learned to create such an object. Imagine, not that you have to. 

Imagine its Sunday morning 7:00 am, Imagine that your parents are still in bed, asleep and that you are hungry, 

Cereal is easy but cereal is boring, and besides that its Sunday morning. 

Slide 3

So, being the brave little soul that you are you look into the cupboard under the kitchen sink and find the tiniest, teeniest  little frying pan that there is and, it weighs a ton, you pull it out, BANG, dam oops hope Mom and dad didn't hear that. 

Slide 4

That's step one, now step two, go into the dining room and look for an empty chair that's laundry, that's coats, that ones Leah's, better not touch that or she'll have a fit, that one, no not that one this one this is the chair. 

slide 5

 

Now what makes more noise pushing or pulling, both but you have come this far your not going to let that stop you it doesn't matter. 

So now the chair is in front of the stove you climb up on it and there.

OH you forgot the eggs and the frying pan, get down. 

slide 6 

 

Now for the fridge, its easily open, but then what the eggs are at the top of the door, you could just reach up there, but you might drop them. 

Now consider what's worse the noise the chair will make as you drag it over here or the mess dropping all the eggs on the floor would make.

 Climb. Open the door as far as it will go, stand on your tippy toes and oh. 

There's a box of eggs on the bottom shelf well that was easier than you thought. 

You smile to yourself. 

slide 7

 

Now what, you've got eggs, frying pan, the chair makes you high enough so you can see into the frying pan when your kneeling down, you don't want to fall of the chair. 

Now butter you've seen Mom do this a million times butter is easy, now what. 

Slide 8

 

Nothing you've got every thing now you just have to do it, yeah do it that's it, o.k. turn the stove on, wait, what if there's no fire and you gas the hole family and go to jail, or maybe you might start a fire. Its almost eight, on Sunday Mom doesn't get up until after woody woodpecker and your really really hungry and besides Mom never gassed the family or started a fire, but she's big, well so are you, didn't she say that the first day she made you go to that stupid school full of those stupid nuns, she said " your a big boy now act like one" 

slide 9

FINE, O.K. turn the knob, poof fire good, now turn it down real small, now the butter, plop you dropped it on the floor, scrape it up that's right now pick the cat hairs out of it and back up on the chair and there, 

oh look its bubbling,

now the egg, 

well you can pick the shells out later.

slide 10 

Now you've seen mom flip a million things a million times, now all you have to do is flip one thing. here's the flipper,  you  start to get down, wait the fire you better turn that off, now where is the flipper, oh yeah a plate back to the dinning room, oh yeah toast, that's easy, you do that all the time, push it down,

now you sit on the chair and think about mom and this egg frying business its hard and she does more then just fry eggs, you sit there looking at the knees of your p.j.s, they're really dirty, 

This house is a real dump, i like it, but your a real little sissy neat thing you even make your bed on Saturday and now your learning to cook. 

slide 11

The toast is up, the eggs are cooked and you didn't even need to flip them and look mom and dad aren't even out of bed yet and look at Scampy with his nose sticking out the hole in the screen and ignoring you. 

All is safe on the western front, you sit down and enjoy the first breakfast that you ever cooked for yourself.

Slide12

Enjoy. but remember, if you don't hurry up and clean up and put everything away its 8:30 now woody wood pecker is over and. 

(drop pills now)

Did you hear that.

The telephone didn't just ring did it? 

                           ---------------------------------The End----------------------------------- 

The Story of a Fried Egg had a second performance at Artspace in 1993 as part of an evening of performance works by  Meita Winkler and myself. Both performances were documented on video neither is spectacular.    

THE STORY OF A FRIED EGG 

 by Joe Lewis © 1990

This is the story of a fried egg and a story about all the

independence that came to the seven year old who learned to

create such an object. Imagine, not that you have to. imagine its

Sunday morning 7:00 am, Imagine that your parents are still in

bed, asleep and that you are hungry, cereal is easy but cereal is

boring, and besides that its Sunday morning.

So, being the brave little soul that you are you look into the

cupboard under the kitchen sink and find the tiniest, teeniest

little frying pan that there is and, it weighs a ton, you pull it

out, BANG, dam oops hope mom and dad didn't hear that.

That's step one, now step two, go into the dining room and look

for an empty chair that's laundry, that's coats, that ones

Leah's, better not touch that or she'll have a fit, that one, no

not that one this one this is the chair.

Now what makes more noise pushing or pulling, both but you have

come this far your not going to let that stop you it doesn't

matter. So now the chair is in front of the stove you climb up on

it and there. OH you forgot the eggs and the frying pan, get down.

Now for the fridge, its easily open, but then what the eggs are

at the top of the door, you could just reach up there, but you

might drop them. Now consider what's worse the noise the chair

will make as you drag it over here or the mess dropping all the

eggs on the floor would make. Climb. Open the door as far as it

will go, stand on your tiptoes and oh. There's a box of eggs

on the bottom shelf well that was easier than you thought. You

smile to yourself.

Now what, you've got eggs, frying pan, the chair makes you high

enough so you can see into the frying pan when your kneeling

down, you don't want to fall of the chair. Now butter you've seen

mom do this a million times butter is easy, now what.

Nothing you've got every thing now you just have to do it, yeah

do it that's it, OK. turn the stove on, wait, what if there's no

fire and you gas the hole family and go to jail, or maybe you

might start a fire. Its almost eight, on Sunday mom doesn't get

up until after woody woodpecker and your really really hungry and

besides mom never gassed the family or started a fire, but she's

big, well so are you, didn't she say that the first day she made

you go to that stupid school full of those stupid nuns, she said

" your a big boy now act like one"

FINE, O.K. turn the knob, poof fire good, now turn it down real

small, now the butter, plop you dropped it on the floor, scrape

it up that's right now pick the cat hairs out of it and back up

on the chair and there, oh look its bubbling, now the egg, well

you can pick the shells out later.

Now you've seen mom flip a million things a million times, now

all you have to do is flip one thing. here's the flipper, you

start to get down, wait the fire you better turn that off, now

where is the flipper,oh yeah a plate back to the dinning room, oh

yeah toast, that's easy, you do that all the time, push it down,

now you sit on the chair and think about mom and this egg frying

business its hard and she does more then just fry eggs, you sit

there looking at the knees of your p.j.s, they're really dirty,

this house is a real dump, i like it, but your a real little

sissy neat thing you even make your bed on Saturday and now your

learning to cook.

The toast is up, the eggs are cooked and you didn't even need to

flip them and look mom and dad aren't even out of bed yet and

look at Scampy (the basset hound)with his nose sticking out the hole in the screen

and ignoring you. All is safe on the western front, you sit down

and enjoy the first breakfast that you ever cooked for yourself.

Enjoy. but remember, if you don't hurry up and clean up and put

everything away its 8:30 now woody wood pecker is over and.

Did you hear that.

The telephone didn't just ring did it?

A Dolphin and a Mountain Coloured Blue. This is not a Christmas Story ( and there is no hockey)

Let me tell you a story, possibly a Christmas story since involves buying a Christmas present, but not just any Christmas present. Now before you from your esteemed position of age and education dismiss the concept of nick-knacks imagine yourself an eight-year-old with an allowance of 25 ¢ a week and the magic of shiny objects. Now I don't expect you to see Rembrandt and Blue Mountain Pottery as objects of equal value but then you are not an eight-year-old with an allowance of 25 ¢ a week and no the difference between Pictures in books and a glorious green dolphin in a store window.

Nick knack patty wack give a dog a bone? What does that actually mean?

It's the Saturday before Christmas and... let's call him Joe, who has been saving 5 ¢ a week for what seems forever has counted his money and put it in his purple velvet marble bag and has his older brother's last years winter coat on because his doesn't fit anymore. But that's just the same old story, not this one. It's winter but not that cold but I guess you already guested this since I said it was a story about a Christmas present. Now its Saturday and Joe has saved 52 nickles and knew that was how much he needed but didn't really about taxes other then that they were extra, he hopes a dime a nickel and three pennies was enough extra.

The trick about keeping a secret in a house full of people but if if you can save 52 nickles in your marble bag (under the marbles) you can do most things. For example fry and egg for breakfast and clean up after before anybody else was out of bed. Stores don't open until 9 o clock and its only 7:30, Eight-year-olds know how to tell time, save nickels fry eggs and. That what he did while waiting to leave for the store. He cut the middle button off his new hand me down winter coat and sewed it back on an inch away from where it had been. There is a tape measure in his mother's sewing box and he knew how to measure things and sew. This wasn't bragging and boasting ( that was a sin or he least he thought it was in the bible so must be) it was just telling it like it was.

Have you seen Flipper on TV, if so you know what a dolphin is, but do you know what a Blue Mountain is? He didn't he just knew that dolphin was beautiful and he knew his mother would like it. It would have to be dusted but since he did the dusting he didn't mind. Last year he and his sister bought a cut glass butter dish, it took some convincing since he knew if you broke glass you could be cut so the idea of buying broken glass seemed stupid, but he got to pick the prettiest. Yes, seven-year-old boys did know pretty and eight-year-old boys knew beautiful. Don't even think it, sissy is just a pointless word and you know what they say about Sticks and Stones and I am rubber you are glue. Enough about that.

Now Joe like going into Stewart's to look a the cut glass, figurines and silverware and since he was “Well behaved” the people that worked there talked to him about the different things in the store like he was a grown-up. He stood slack-jawed in front of the dolphin when he saw it. The lady showing it to him smiled and he remembered his manners and said: “thank you”. He saw the price and quietly counted the money in his pocket rattled the coins in his pocket. He hated math but knew his Five Times Table and Christmas was last year so the next one was a long time away. He asked the woman who was showing it to him how much he should pay her to keep it for him. ( he had heard grown-ups say that so he thought he might as well give it a try)   

In response to that, she walked over to the counter and brought out a small note and said “ I have to ask you a few questions, how much is your allowance?” “Twenty-five cents a week, That's a dollar a month,” “ Thank you” then she wrote something down, the asked “How much money do you have now” Joe reached in his pocket and brought out one quarter, one nickel and four pennies (the pennies he had found down behind a pillow on the couch) She counted out the nickel and for pennies and wrote something down then showed Joe the paper. And told him he would have to save a nickel a week and he could bring it in the week before Christmas. Then she took a sticker and wrote “On Hold” on it and walked back to the window where the dolphin was on display and picked it up. She put the sticker on the bottom and placed it back in the window. She smiled and said that way other people could still see it, but it would not be sold.

Canada was going to be One Hundred years old the next year and many of Joe's friends were talking about EXPO, which sounded exciting but not as exciting as Joe thought Christmas was going to be. It was the Saturday before Christmas and it was now time to go pick up the dolphin. He had made his own wrapping paper at school the week before and it was folded it up in his coat pocket. It was getting late and nobody was up yet. He knew he wasn't to go downtown without some older, a brother, a sister but he didn't want them to know about the dolphin and he knew if he walked along the tracks (something else he knew he wasn't supposed to do but did all the time) he could take the short cut and be downtown fast enough to be at Stewart's when it opened, faster if there was ice on the hill. So he set off with his wrapping paper in one pocket and his purple velvet marble bag (minus the marbles, they were in a sock) under his pillow) in the other.

I was still kind of dark and the street lights were still on. There are no street lights along the tracks or on the back road, but the sun was coming up so that was OK. Moving the button on his coat made it fit funny but made it warmer and with scarf mitts ( still on a string through his sleeves) and toque on he went out the backdoor. Scamppy and Clancy (dog and cat) just looked at him without getting out of the basket. (they knew better then to go out in the snow if they didn't have to) it was cold and the snow crunched as he walked around the house to the street. Its beginning to look a lot like Christmas was running through his head, then Frosty the Snowman, then Adeste Fideles which he was singing out loud and didn't realize it, He knew all the words in whatever language it was in. He knew lots of songs from being in the church choir in languages he didn't know he just liked singing them.

A car slowed down and honked, the window rolled down and Mrs. MacDonald asked if I, I mean he wanted a ride. He said “No Thanks, but maybe on the way home” He knew they were going to the A and P because that's what they did every Saturday morning, “Does your mother know where you are going?” “Yes,” he lied. A white lie he could confess next Friday. He turned the corner the car continued going straight. This was a complication he would deal with later. Now since he had walked this way he was going to have to stop on the bridge and wait for the 8:20 train to come under the bridge because it was that time and that's what you did “Good King Went sis loss looked down on the feast of Steven” and here it comes. Years later looking back he was amazed he had spent a fifth of his annual income on a gift for his mother and income she provided. He also realized the woman in the store must have made up the difference, but now all that was on Joe's mind was when he should spit so it would land on the porch of the caboose. That's what you did when you stood on the bridge watching trains go under it.

Onward down the hill and it was ice, sliding down on your back was always the safest way to slide down any hill and nobody ever shoveled their sidewalks on the hill simply because they had kids and every kid in town went there to slide. But that's... You buy your dad a tie, you buy your mom a butter dish, salt and pepper shakers, handkerchiefs or some ghastly Eau de toilette. When your five or six and your dad took you shopping for a gift for your mom and vice versa. But when you are seven you should take responsibility for buying your mom a gift. That is what Joe was doing did.  

While some may consider Blue Mountain Pottery a joke many thought it not One-Fifth of a kid's yearly income would not be spent on a joke. A kid might buy sea monkeys, X-ray Specs yes but for themselves. Itching and sneezing powder and Mexican jumping beans, even a Venus Fly Trap for a pet, but not for their mothers. As the Open sign was being turned at Stewart's a proudly grinning Joe was standing in the doorway. They greeted him with Good Mornings and welcome, Joe turned to the window and with surprise saw a bowl where the dolphin had been. Hearing “We have your package here” brought a wave of relief preventing the water rising to his eyes from spilling over. With dignity, he went to the counter seeing open box. Inside it was tissue paper on top of the glistening green running into black dolphin lay on its side he stroked its cool smoothness. He smiled. He reached into one pocket bringing out the purple velvet marble bag and gently set it on the counter. Then he reached in his pocket and brought out a dime nickel and three pennies, then opened the bag and began to count the fifty-two nickles into stacks of five ( ten might fall over and break the glass countertop.)

The paper from last year was brought out and the cash was counted again and the box closed. “That is right, this is how much we wrote down You have been very prompt” As she started to put the box in a bag Joe brought out the wrapping paper and said “I made this” “Oh would you like me to wrap the box?” “yes please” within minutes it was wrapped and she asked if I wanted a ribbon it comes with the purchase” “Yes Please” the smile in his voice growing. At that moment. the door opened and Mrs. MacDonald stepped in. She smiled and asked if Joe if he was ready. This was a bit too much of a coincident for an eight-year-old to figure out, he was just happy he didn't have to walk home. It was alright sliding down the high hill, but walking up the long hill took days. Well an hour at least so a ride in the MacDonald's Studebaker was always useful and something that he got to do every Sunday after church. While they were driving up the hill Mrs MacDonald asked Joe if he would like her to keep the dolphin at their house until Christmas eve?

You could have knocked him over with a feather. She noticed his surprise and went on to say “I thought I would buy it but Barbara said you were buying it on time for your mother. We were watching for you this morning I didn't want you catching a cold this close to Christmas.” The MacDonald's had taken a liking to Joe when he joined the church choir and took it upon themselves to drive him to or from Church and always had “a treat” for him on Sundays, usually a box full of finger sandwiches enough for the family for lunch (or Joe's lunches for a week. Ham, chicken. Tuna and egg salad sandwiches, some times in the shape of the different suits in a deck of cards Hearts, Diamond, Club and Spades and sometimes with different coloured bread. Strange but delicious and seldom appreciated lunch was often grilled cheese. But that is not what this story was about

the end … to be continued.  

Other People's Clothes (Stories Not often told) Joe Lewis 2019

Shirt: Black Ice Apparel “Your personal brand“ - 6XT 100% cotton
,Pants; haggar 56 60% polyester 40% cotton

Other People's Clothes

I have been dealing with other people's clothes most of my life. First it was hand me downs simply because of the size of my family and the rate of growth of my older siblings. At the age of 7 I put my spiritual life at risk and joined the Cub Scouts. I was Catholic and the meetings were in the Protestant church, and it didn't fall down around my ears as one nun from school suggested. She was my music teacher and choir master and did not want me distracted from singing. I really joined so I could hang out with my best friend who went to a different school but we sat with each other on the school bus. One day he was on his bike and got run over by a transport truck.

This tree was planted to commemorate the short life of my friend after he was run over by a transport truck on his bike,

Craig Bennett 1959 - 1970

“ Great green gobs of greasy, grimy, gopher guts, mutilated monkey meat, toasted ...” as one of my brothers sang while another described the imagined clean up, neither being aware of our friendship and simply doing it because they were boys and nothing like that had happened in our lifetime. A few months later his mother gave me his Cub Scout uniform because my mother assumed she knew we couldn't afford one, I think she gave it to me as a memento-mori. I wore it once and was told to take off the badges I hadn't earned. I never wore it again except in a parade a few months later badges and all. I left it intact because that seemed the right thing to do.

Great green gobs…as a teenager I made an income buying and selling vintage clothes some very posh suits I recognized as belonging to older gentlemen of the parish who were snappy dressers. You can't find suits like that at Value Village nowadays. When my father passed away I was given / took his newest shoes, a pair of classic brown brogues, one in perfect condition the other showing wear. My father had a wooden leg. I painted the perfect one gold and they were more often a display item, like bronze baby shoes, than worn. Both the Cub Scout shirt and the shoes were with me until I was robbed in 1987.

On the 5th of May 2018 my brother died, he had been born on 5th of May 1955 giving his passing an awkward kind of symmetry. A few months later his daughter in law got in touch with me his wife and his two daughters and proposed that some kind of family quilts could be made from his clothing. Each family member could have one and we could all work on them. She had gotten the idea from an episode of The Queer Eye. I was included in this conversation for the obvious reason that I am a textile artist. As arranged I picked up the clothes, 4 shirts and two pairs of pants and proceeded to dismantle them and cut the cloth into 4 ½ inch squares. At this point the story/ quilts remain stacks of 4 ½ inch squares. Almost and not quite.

Shirt: Black Ice Apparel “Your personal brand“ - 6XT 100% cotton,
Pants; haggar 56 60% polyester 40% cotton
Buttons from Jane Holden Kelley 1928- 2018 mother of my partner Thomas Michael Kelley February 10, 1961-December 29, 1987
Design of the embroidered letters taken from Bruce's and my mother's Betty Jean Lewis (1930 and still going) Grade 8 sketchbook

When it came to cutting up my brother’s clothes I was struck by the thought of doing so methodically and documenting the process, which I did with one shirt and one pair of pants. I cut out panels one at a time then lay them flat and photographed them: the shirt on grass and the pants on cobblestones. It seemed the right thing to

Gone But Not A/P on engineering paper 2019 and
9-Patch quilt square embellished 2019

Great green globs of greasy, grimy gopher guts,
Mutilated monkey meat.
French fried flamingo feet.
French fried eyeballs swimming in a pool of blood
And me without my spoon.[4]

The Text, 9-Patch quilt square and print were created to be in a community installation and catalogue project called "Worn Worlds" May 30- June 7 2019. It was part of Canadian weaver/ artist Line Dufour's 2018 -2019 John Willard Residency at the Art Gallery of Burlington, Burlington Ontario  

Art Gallery of Burlington 

Line Dufour