acter. A full hour of sketching passed before a familiar vehicle rumbled up the alley—this was the harbinger of doom for all refuse cans. As a result my subject was unceremoniously devoided of its con- tents. At all events, time and I were at an equal pace so I was not the loser. Strange as it may seem, these preced- ing incidents, when compared to my actual street experiences are dull and colourless. For there could be nothing, in my opinion, more interesting and educational to the artist than street sketching. Vancouver, being a cosmopolitan city, in every way, has much to offer the artist or layman. Her people and her buildings tell the naked story of her birth, her development and her tempestuous struggle for national esteem. One needs but to venture along her main street to feel the full impact of this inspiring truth, for here we have the past, present and future in paradoxical con- trast. Thus was I lured to Hastings street, a highway of expressive constructions and versatile humanity. Aware of the electric atmosphere of this section of town, I determined to record it permanently with paint and canvas. Un- fortunately my ‘crowd callosity’’ must have weakened because it was only after a series of unsuccessful attempts that I fanally mustered up sufficient courage to begin my problem. Yes, I became as a “swimmer nearing the shore’’ with con- scious fear (subconscious false pride) in my heart; and after the first sensation of cold- ness, plunged unafraid into the turbulent waters, at last to emerge confident. As traffic would be a severe handicap to my aesthetic aim, I chose a particular Sunday to begin what I though to prove a significant canvas. Luck was with me. The street was practically free of pedes- trians and vehicles, so every building could be clearly defined and all doorways seen. Gradually, as time wore on, I be- came aware of the growing crowds of Sunday strollers. However, their interest temporarily amounted only to furtive looks, curious glances and allusive conversations, until one brave soul summoned enough for- titude to attempt a feeble conversation with me. This act immediately roused latent curi- osity traits which illustrated themselves in amazing ways. Men became noticeably concerned about the styles and prices of women's footwear. Women, in turn, exhi- bited a surprising interest in hardware, hunting equipment, garden tools, men's shoes and a multitude of unfeminine arti- cles. If I'm not being too confident this sudden phenomenon was due to the pres- ence of an unfamiliar person of artistic tendencies. Consequently, I myself was almost tempted, several times, to abandon this architectural drawing for more vital subjects. Groups of gaily clad people paraded by, talking and laughing in rising crescendo, leaving me in a very restless state of mind. This was the moment for an abrupt change of scene so I departed quickly from a harassing climate to one of peace and quiet, leaving my facade for another day. This “other day” fell on a Monday the following days to weeks, until my sketching was satisfactorily completed. These weeks of drawing for my compo- sition held similar experiences, so I think the ensuing paragraph will be adequate for what I have to say. During this adventure, I not only sketch- ed buildings, but again had the opportun- ity to study the psychology of the crowds. I became enlightened as to the various gestures and expressions accompanying any emotional feeling or reaction, a con- trast of reactions to my presence and to themselves in general. I can recall vividly a strikingly well-dressed man, apparently of the business world, who ap- proached, obviously concerned for my welfare. His first question, ‘‘What are you up to?” drew my whole attention to him. Even when he received my simple explan- ation, this overbearing gent insisted that I was employed by some advertising firm. Again I assured him that I was only an art student sketching for a composition which had nothing. to do with an adver- tisement. At this repeated fact, he ques- tioned me about my past education and future ambitions. Angry by now, I answer- ed him vaguely and then lapsed into sil- ence, turning all of my attention to my sketching. As a final conclusion, he in- formed me that as a student I should de- finitely “seek higher levels because this end of town couldn't possibly hold any interest to any artist, or anyone’ which tempted me to ask him what he was doing there. However, controlling my mounting anger, I offered no argument but remain- ed tolerant and wordless. Consequently, discouraged by this awkward silence, he left, to my extreme relief. I drew for a considerable length of time before I was aware of something behind me. In a short period, sly attempts at conversation were made until after a num- ber of very inexpedient remarks, I knew I must see who my interrogator was. Out of sheer curiosity, I glanced around, to | see a husky, red-faced youth. This offici- ous boy demanded to know why I was wasting my precious hours drawing the old building when I could easily photo- graph it, thus eliminating unnecessary trouble. Having no reasonable elucida- tions for him, I made some trivial remark that appeared to satisfy his inquisitiveness. Strangely enough, he at once assumed I was thirsty, hence in dire need of refresh- ing liquids. It was not difficult to see that this chap was the persistent sort so I decided to leave this scene and postpone my work till another date. This other day proved to be most bene- ficial in both artistic accomplishments and social intercourses. By this time, I had finished my facade sketch of the less fa- mous section of the block and was wel- coming my final completion of it. I was astonished to discover how a few feet of pavement can alter the entire social atmos- phere to one of a commercial quality. Here was a scene of business enterprise; food stands displayed varieties of luscious fruits and vegetables. An adjoining bakery sent the sweet aroma of fresh bread and pastry to the neighboring vicinity. Bar- gains were made and friendly convers- ations resulted. Thus was I immersed in the market place, the hive of buzzing ac- tivity. So, isolating myself in a dark doorway, I commenced drawing as quickly as possible, soon completing the ultimate building for my facade composition, re- gardless of the many intrusions of inquir- ing shoppers. Happily, a large number of these people were courteous and sympath- etic, encouraging me with their well-in- tentioned remarks. Occasionally, a heavily bundled housewife would give abundant information, regarding other art institutions and the success story of a former obscure artist. Several of these inquiries have left an indelible impression on my memory. A small stout man, obviously possess- ing a costly wardrobe, was the first im- pressing interviewer. In his hand he car- tied a folded newspaper, which he glanced repeatedly at between words. Oddly enough, he considered my rough sketch worthy of serious comment which would no doubt aid me considerably. Hence he was critical but his censure was indeed helpful, until he suggested the ad- dition of many unimportant details. How- ever, he was one of the minority who realized that the pencil sketch was only a tool for further reference, ultimately con- summating itself in oils. The second per- son a middle-aged laborer, was intensely enthusiastic, showering me with extrava- gant praises. At intervals he would refer to many. old masters, such as Rembrandt and Vermeer, which led me to suspect his Dutch ancestry. When he left, I was work- ing fervently, not wholly because of his inspiring words but as I was anxious to complete sketching and begin my canvas. However, my exit was delayed for a few minutes when a cheerful housewife accost- ed me. Evidently her husband's brother's uncle was a noted landscape painter. Then, following a brief historical account of her family and offering generous advice to young female artists, she departed. Be- fore leaving this mortal scene of constant activity, I lingered by in quiet observa- tion, fascinated by bustling humanity. ~~). acter. A full hour of sketching passed before a familiar vehicle rumbled up the alley—this was the harbinger of doom for all refuse cans. As a result my subject was unceremoniously devolded of its con- fonts. At all events, time and I were at ‘an equal pace so I was not the loser. Strange as it may seem, these precod- ing incidents, when compared to my actual street experiences are dull and colourless. For there could be nothing, in my opinion, ‘more interesting and educational to the artist than streot sketching. Vancouver, being a cosmopolitan city, in every way, hhas much to offer the artist or layman. Her people and her buildings tell the naked story of her bitth, her development and her tempestuous struggle for national esteem. One needs but to venture along hher main streot to feo! the full impact of this inspiring truth, for here we have tho past, present and future in paradoxical con- trast. Thus was I lured to Hastings street, a highway of expressive constructions and versatile humanity. ‘Aware of the electric atmosphere of this section of town, I determined to record it permanently with paint and canvas. Un- fortunately my “crowd callosity” must hhave woakened because it was only after a series of unsuccessful attempts that I fanally mustered up sufficient courage to begin my problem. Yes, I became as a “swimmer nearing the shore” with con scious fear (subconscious false pride) in my heart; and after the first sensation of cold- ness, plunged unafraid into the turbulent waters, at last to emerge confident As traffic would be a severe handicap to my aesthetic aim, I chose a particular Sunday to begin what I though to prove a significant canvas. Luck was with me. The stroot was practically free of podes- trlans and vehicles, so every building could be clearly defined and all doorways seen. Gradually, as time wore on, I bo- came aware of the growing crowds of Sunday strollers. However, their interest temporarily amounted only to furtive looks, curious glances and allusive conversations, ‘until one brave soul summoned enough for- ‘itude to attempt a feeble conversation with zo. This act immediately roused latent curi- ‘osity traits which illustrated themselves in amazing ways. Men became noticeably concerned about the styles and prices of ‘women’s footwear. Women, in turn, oxhi- bited a surprising interest in hardware, hhunting equipment, garden tools, men's shoes and a multitude of unfeminine arti cles. If Y'm not being too confident this sudden phenomenon was due to the pres- fence of an unfamiliar person of artistic tendencies. Consequenlly, I myself was almost tompled, several times, to abandon this architectural drawing for more vital subjects. Groups of gaily clad people paraded by, talking and laughing in rising crescendo, leaving me in a very restless stato of mind. This was the moment for an abrupt change of scene so I departed quickly from a harassing climate to one of peace and quist, leaving my facade for another day. This “other day” fell on a Monday the following days to weeks, until my sketching was satisfactorily completed. These weeks of drawing for my compo- sition held similar experionces, so I think the ensuing paragraph will be adequate for what I have to say. During this adventure, I not only sketch- ed buildings, but again had the opportun- ity to study the psychology of the crowds. I became enlightoned as to the various gestures and expressions accompanying any emotional feeling or reaction, a con: trast of reactions to my presence and to themselves in general. I can recall vividly a strikingly well-dressed man, apparently of the business world, who ap- proached, obviously concemed for my ‘welfare. His first question, “‘What are you up to?" drew my whole attention to him, Even when he received my simple explan- ation, this overbearing gent insisted that I was employed by some advertising firm. Again I assured him that I was only an art student sketching for a composition which had nothing to do with an adver. tisement, At this repeated fact, lie ques: tioned me about my past education and future ambitions. Angry by now, I answer- ed him vaguely and then lapsed into sil fence, turning all of my attention to my sketching. As a final conclusion, he in- formed mo that as a student I should de. finitely “seek higher levels because this ‘end of town couldn't possibly hold any Interest to any arlist, or anyone” which tempted me to ask him what he was doing there. However, controlling my mounting anger, I offered no argument but remain- ed tolerant and wordless. Consequently, discouraged by this awkward silence, he loft, to my extreme relief. I drew for a considerable length of time before I was aware of something behind me. In a short period, sly attempts at conversation were made until after a num: ber of very inexpedient remarks, 1 knew I must see who my interrogator was. Out of sheer curiosity, I glanced around, to , see a husky, red-faced youth. This offici- ‘ous boy demanded to know why I was ‘wasting my precious hours drawing the old building when I could easily photo. graph it, thus eliminating unnecessary trouble, Having no reasonable elucida- tions for him, I made some trivial remark that appeared to satisfy his inquisitiveness. Strangely enough, he at once assumed I ‘was thirsty, hence in dire need of refresh- ing liquids. It was not difficult to see that this chap was the persistent sort so I decided to leave this scene and postpone my work till another date. This other day proved to be most bene. ficlal in both artistic accomplishments and social intercourses. By this time, I had finished my facade sketch of the less fa- mous section of the block and was wel coming my final completion of it, I was astonished to discover how a few fect of pavement can alter the entire social atmos- phere to one of a commercial quality. Here was a scene of business enterprise: food stands displayed varieties of luscious fruits and vegetables. An adjoining bakery sent the sweet aroma of fresh bread and pastry to the neighboring vicinity. Bar. gains were made and friendly convers- ations resulted. Thus was I immersed in the market place, the hive of buzzing ac- tivity. So, isolating myself in a dark doorway, I commenced drawing as quickly ‘as possible, soon completing the ultimate building for my facade composition, re- gardless of the many intrusions of inquir. ing shoppers. Happily, a large number of these people were courteous and sympath- etic, encouraging me with their wellin- tentioned remarks. Occasionally, a heavily bundled housewife would give abundant information, regarding other art institutions ‘and the success story of a former obscure artist, Several of these inquiries have left an indelible impression on my memory. ‘A small stout man, obviously possess: ing a costly wardrobe, was the first im- pressing interviewer. In his hand he car- red a folded newspaper, which he glanced repeatedly at between words. Oddly enough, he considered my rough ‘sketch worthy of serious comiment which would no doubt aid me considerably. Hence he was critical but his censure was indeed helpful, until he suggested the ad- dition of many unimportant details. How- ever, he was one of the minority who realized that the pencil sketch was only a tool for further reference, ultimately con: summating itself in oils, The second per- son a middle-aged laborer, was intensoly enthusiastic, showering me with oxtravé gant praises. At intervals he would refer to many old masters, such as Rembrandt and Vermeer, which led me to suspect his Dutch ancestry. When he left, I was work ing fervently, not wholly because of his inspiring words but as 1 was anxious to complete sketching and bogin my canvas. However, my exit was delayed for a few minutes when a cheorful housewife accost- ed me. Evidently her husband's brother’ uncle was a noted landscape painter. Thon, following a brief historical account of her family and offering generous advice to young female artists, she departed. Bo: fore leaving this mortal scene of constant activity, I lingered by in quiet observe: tion, fascinated by bustling humanity.