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Tom Thomson
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Follow the Journal of My Last Spring on nostr. Tweeting in real-time from 1917

1914 Pine Island @TheAGH #tt1914

If it was a rainy day, I would stay in camp, clean my pipes and read the Compleat Angler by Izaak Walton.

Opening the front door, going outside, wishing all of the neighbours a Happy New Year.

Someone is playing the bagpipes outside.

Happy New Year 1917!

Outside, we all break into same chorus

A Happy New Year.

Happy New Year everyone!

1917 Northern Lights. #tt1917

Some days I felt like a clumsy imitator overdoing my part.

1916 Northern Lights @mbamtl #tt1916

Making our way by sleigh back to the Harkness Household.

1915 Northern Lights #tt1915

1916 The Enchanted Stream, Midnight #tt1916

Look at my art, you should feel that I am still around.

1916 Petawawa Gorges, Night #tt1916

1916 Lumber Camp at Night #tt1916

Dec 31, 1916 First quarter moon tonight

In June 1915, Jackson enlisted as a private in the Sixtieth Battalion

Artists were accused of the moral degneracy that led to the War.

We're all having enough of this sad and ghastly war

There is more promise to be an author-figher nowadays than being an artist-woodsman.

No theory can take the place of experience.

Every man alone is sincere.

The front page on Christmas Day, 1916

In a large gathering I have nothing to say, but in the company of friends I am a different man

At times I am moody, temperamental and deeply discouraged.

1913 Northern Lake, Spring 1913 #tt1913

Ever since the raids on London, Zeppelins are popping up everywhere

As if war in Europe is not enough, I can't fathom that people are talking about civil war in Canada.

Swamps, beaver dams and logging chutes: the subjects are endless.

Avoid entering a canoe with anyone who displays evangelical fervour.

A moment is a hard thing to capture.

Surprise your darling with a leopard skin. Only $450 at Simpson's Dept Store. Open until 10pm tonight.

Alone in a studio, one learns next to nothing about painting and nothing about life.

Hello Christmas!

I mind my own business and I expect others to mind theirs.

Art lives in its mistakes.

1916 Snow Shadows #tt1916