...Tom Thomson

Even though we live in a lovely part of Ontario, we don't often take the time to enjoy the sights and places that attract all of the crowds and attention. 

Last week, when the family was here, we spent the evening in Huntsville. It's where I do my weekly grocery shop, and run most of my errands, but I've become rather oblivious our complacent about the beauty of the town and its surroundings.

Huntsville is considered the gateway to Algonquin Park, which lies some 60km to the east. It's a beautiful town, nestled at the confluence of Lake Vernon, Mary Lake and Fairy Lake. In the summer, it is heaving with tourists, drawn to its picturesque main street, filled with boutiques, outfitting stores, restaurants and ice cream parlours. 

The town was established in 1869 : it's a mere baby in the scope of world history. But Huntsville quickly became a commercial and recreational hub of the Muskoka region. It's worth mentioning that it is also has a rich cultural pedigree as well as a vibrant arts community. 

Indeed, Central-Northern Ontario, and particularly the Algonquin region, became the domain of the Group of Seven, an arts community whose renown spread worldwide; it is a school of art that is truly, uniquely Canadian, both in subject matter and style.

One of the group members - perhaps the most notorious and iconic of them all - was Tom Thomson. He had particularly deep ties with Huntsville, and the town celebrates him and the rest of the Group of Seven with multiple murals replicating their works, done by contemporary, local artists.

This larger-than-life sculpture of Thomson sits in the centre of town, and the detail is delightful. I've passed it many a time and largely ignored it, but last week, playing tourist, I stopped and enjoyed.

Thomson was found dead, presumed drowned in Canoe Lake, Algonquin Park, on July 8, 1917, just before his 40th birthday. The circumstances of his death are steeped in mystery and speculation, as he was an expert paddler. In consequence, he has become a legend of sorts, through his art and his (abbreviated) life.

When I was teaching French at the university, one of my favourite courses was the third-year writing class. By that time, I knew most if not all of the students in my class, having taught them in various other courses for at least two years. As well, the class was generally smaller than the first and second year language courses were, so we were availed of the intimacy of being able to communicate effectively as a group, rather than them listening to me lecture at them. One module of this course dealt with art criticism, and I would invariably drag the group over to the art museum on campus, which virtually none of them knew existed, and we'd listen to a talk from the docent before I set the kids loose to choose a painting that spoke to them, and formulate a critique. It was a thrill and a joy to see them discover art in this way, and to listen to all of the different reactions and points of view.

It was at this very museum that I experienced my own watershed moment. While I was circulating among the clusters of students, I found myself face to face with a tiny, framed 8x10 by Thomson. I was - the only word that comes to mind is mesmerized. In this, one of the tiniest, most understated paintings in the gallery, I could see every brush stroke, where Thomson had laid down paint. As well, even though the painting was far from realist or traditional, it distilled the very essence of the northern landscape I had recently tasted (we'd bought our house up here by then, and I was spending part of the year there, when school was not in session). Looking back, though I did not realize it at the time, gazing at that painting helped to put in motion the path that would lead me away from teaching, and toward a rediscovery of the inner artist.

Fast forward to 5 or so years later, and my teaching career is a distant memory. I live up here in the North full-time now, and I pick up a pencil, pastel or paintbrush almost daily. 

One pleasant surprise in moving up here and embracing art is that the community in the larger sense, and the arts community in particular, has been nothing short of welcoming and encouraging. Muskoka has the (somewhat merited) reputation for being the bailiwick of snooty multimillionaire cottagers, but scratch below the esoterica and you find ''good people''. 

One of these ''good people'' is an artist and mentor called Janine Marson. She works at North Art Supplies, in downtown Huntsville, and she's incredibly generous with advice and expertise, as are all of the people who work there; they are artists with a passion, and they really do inspire and encourage.

Janine is a great admirer of Thomson, and her style reflects that. She has set herself an ambitious and remarkable goal of painting 100 plein air pieces, travelling to spots where Thomson frequented and painted, replicating his views and his works. She is halfway along in her project, and she's aiming to have it all done in time to commemorate the 100th anniversary of Thomson's death, next July. Following her Facebook feed has been, and continues to be, a real inspiration; she paints in all kinds of weather and just rolls with it, including painting from a canoe. If you're interested in following along, here's her info.

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