My computer died a slow and painful death yesterday because of course it did. My roommate is currently in the process of retrieving everything from the hard drive. Allll my references for my next couple of paintings are on it and all my music. This is like watching a really intense psychological thriller.
Those who say graffiti doesn’t accomplish much haven’t seen the work of Skid Robot, an anonymous street artist in Los Angeles who uses his medium to draw attention to the homeless — a population he laments is so often overlooked.
Love is sacrificing your own personal comfort and style in favour of wearing an uncomfortably hot, oversized surgical gown so to visit your partner who’s stuck in quarantine and is actively losing her shit.
Just because I’m sick doesn’t mean I have to stop wearing urban outfitters. I’m too vain for this shit.
I recently started working with an art collective. It’s main focus is accessibility so it was really surprising that they chose a location that was no where near easily accessible transit. The first assignment we were given was to document our journey to the venue, either through notes, drawings, photos, or collecting things from our travels. I chose to write about my experience:
I get to the lights. I could turn right, probably save time, but there are driveways that dip into the street and its harder to move. So when the light turns I cross. I could keep going straight for a block then turn right, straight towards the station but there’s a subtle incline that is just enough to leave me breathless. So when I cross the lights I turn right and make my way to the subway climbing the city streets like a staircase on a map.
I get to the corner of the main intersection, across the street from the subway station. I usually cross and head south to the accessible entrance but I’ve been approached by the same man twice and the second time got physical so now I avoid that corner as much as possible. Instead I stay on the east side and make my way south, crossing the street at the bottom of the hill, directly across from the subway. Directly in front of a Starbucks.
I stop and get tokens. I should have one left but coming home I used two tokens to try and gain access to the station but neither worked. The gate which had the iconic blue symbol on it would not open. I looked in the booth for a TTC employee but there wasn’t one. Instead a stranger as perplexed as I was, looked for a gate that was unlocked and when he found one I looked up at him and said thank you as I headed north.
Yesterday I consulted with my partner, another wheelchair user, who’s a far better navigator, about how to get there.
They suggested getting off at Bloor, wheel down to Wellesley, take a transfer from Yonge, show it to the collector at Wellesley, explain that you had to wheel there in hopes you don’t have to pay twice. From there, get on the 94 Wellesley going westbound. Ride it to Ossington Station and transfer onto the 63 Ossington. Get off at Dundas West and Ossington. Turn left and go 3 blocks to Shaw, turn right down Shaw and go about 2 blocks.
I have no sense of direction. Or a sense of how long that would take. It’s overwhelming and I’d likely get lost so I say I’ll probably get off at Osgoode and head west along Queen. This is something I’ve done before, more than once. They suggest getting off at Bathurst and wheeling south because it’s down hill. Either way it’s 30- 45 minutes of wheeling across the city streets but this is my only option to get to where I need to be.
Mostly because Wheeltrans is a joke and the joke always ends up on me.
By the time I got there I was pretty miserable, considering I spent 45 minutes wheeling in the rain so I immediately brought up the location issue with the coordinator. I was told I had an opportunity to disclose my concerns when they sent an email out about the possible venues but it honestly didn’t even occur to me to verify that the venues were all in an accessible location. I guess I took for granted that accessibility would be a priority given the art collective is all about accessibility. I was told that I was thought about when they were choosing a location. I’m not sure how that’s suppose to make it any better considering their final decision. I later found out my friend and fellow participant brought up the issue with them when the email was sent, but I guess they didn’t take her complaint seriously because she isn’t a wheelchair user. The whole situation is so frustrating.
Beers and queers
I just got woken up by a call from CCAC, asking me how wide my wheelchair is so that when they kick me off their services, do to the fact that I’m “wheelchair bound but can leave the house” they want to make sure I can fit into the doors of the clinic they’re sending me to once a week. I guess the clinic isn’t very wheelchair accessible.
Am I the only one that sees the irony in this?
Don’t you just hate it when you pop a tire?
Pin Up Illustration
8” x 10”
Digital Colour (top)
Original Sketch (bottom)
Because I’ve been a little on the self-conscious side lately (the usual pointless reasoning), so I drew this to feel better. Might do some more sexy disability pin ups in the future.