For no reason I can think of, this afternoon I recalled a song I used to really like called The Train by The Roches. I had their first record, on vinyl of course. There was something about their harmonies and their quirky lyrics that captured my imagination. I have no idea where I first heard Maggie, Terre and Suzzy Roche except that at the time I was living in an old hardware store on Ossington Ave. It was in the mid-80s. I converted the hardware store into a live-in studio. It had peg-board walls, perfect for a painter.

There were two studios actually. I had the storefront studio in front. There was another in the back and the two were divided by a shared kitchen. We shared a basement too. That’s where the bathroom was. We built a little deck out back, and there was even a couple parking spots back there, with access from a lane-way. At one point, a friend from University named Rob lived in the back. He had a dog named Giotto who we both cared for. Giotto was a great dog. He wasn’t supposed to go on the beds but every day I would come home to find Giotto sleeping on my bed. He would guiltily slither off and when he realized I wasn’t really all that upset with him, he would wag his tail and greet me. I started putting stuff on the bed to discourage him – an old guitar, a chair, a box. Even though it couldn’t have been comfortable, Giotto would find a spot on there among the obstacles.

I was working part time, a job I thought would be a temporary condition until my painting sales took off (hardy-har-har). I worked something like 7:00 until midnight. I’d get home and paint in the dead of night then wake up at the crack of 11:00. I’d put the coffee on, throw on some clothes and walk a few doors up the street to a little Portuguese bakery for a little something-something to go with my coffee. Then, back to painting. I exhibited twice right in that old studio. I loved it there in many ways and those were good days.

A few of the paintings I made back then still stand out to me. One is owned by my friends Scott and Jill and hangs today in Jill’s office at her workplace. I don’t recall the title of that painting now, but I remember painting it like it was yesterday. When I think of that painting, I think of a quote from the British painter, Frances Bacon, who said something like it’s always the job of the artist to deepen the mystery. There was another painting too that is exceptionally memorable to me, called The Listening Machine.

I was really fond of that painting. In a way it defined the painting I was doing at the time. A friend kindly offered to store that one for me. Unfortunately, somehow or another it was damaged beyond repair in storage. I don’t know what happened exactly, but the paint – it was oil paint, built up in many layers of impasto – delaminated. It may have had to do with the fact that I was using exceptionally cheap oil paint.

Have a listen to Maggie, Terre and Suzzy Roche singing The Train. Hearing this song after many many years brought back a flood of memories for me.