The CBC is right; Canadian hospitals are dirty.

Blood smeared toilet, St. Joe's hospital, London, ON. St. Joe's rated A+ by CBC.

According to the CBC, dirty hospital rooms are a top concern for Canadians. It seems the fifth estate conducted an online survey looking into, among other things, the perceived cleanliness of Canadian hospitals.

"Nearly a third of respondents, who included patients, health care workers and relatives and friends of patients, said hospital rooms and bathrooms were not kept clean."

I'm a big booster of the Canadian health care system. My family and I have benefited greatly from the system but that doesn't mean the system is above criticism. As much as I consider myself lucky to be living in Canada, I must confess that there is a rundown feel to many of our hospitals.

When my youngest daughter gave birth, the room was immaculate and all went smoothing. The doctors and nurses were wonderful, very professional. That said, it is lucky she never had to use the birthing room washroom. It was soiled with blood, both on the floor and the toilet seat. A nurse was informed but nothing was ever done. Without protective gloves, I wasn't eager to clean the room. It was left blood smeared.

Last spring when my wife had to visit the same hospital to receive the results of some medical tests, I went to use the public restroom and found smeared blood on the toilet and the room generally soiled with mystery gunk. I told a nurse about the filthy condition of the restroom but there was no indication anything would be done any time soon.

According to a World Health Organization report, Clean Care is Safer Care, the prevalence of health care-associated infection in Canada is 11.6 percent. I'm sure American Obamacare foes will quickly blame "Canada's socialized health care" for the problem — even though Canada does not have socialized health care. Canada has a single payer system. France, which does have a socialized system, has a rate that is only 38 percent of Canada's — 4.4 percent.

And a country doesn't have to be rich to have a better rate than Canada: Slovenia has a 4.6 percent rate. Heck, the rate in Mongolia is less than half that of Canada's. Mongolia comes in at 5.4 percent.

The rate of health care-associated infection (HCAI) in Canada is one of the highest among high income-countries. The figures used are from 1995 through 2010.

HCAI is an expensive drain on health care systems. According to a report from the ECDC, these infections account for approximately €7 billion per year in direct costs. The story is somewhat similar in the U.S. where $6 billion was expended in 2004. The cost in lost trust in the health care system may be as serious as financial cost.

Champions of the free market may be uncomfortable with one of the CBC findings: privatization of housekeeping may be behind some of the decline in hospital cleanliness. The CBC is not alone in advancing this theory. The Tyee in British Columbia agrees.

"Since the privatization of cleaning services in B.C.'s hospitals, health care workers say they've seen a sharp increase in "health care-associated infections" -- diseases contracted by patients and staff within the hospitals themselves.

"The infections are serious: Methicillin-resistant Staph aureus (MRSA). Norovirus. Vancomycin-resistant Enterococcus (VRE). Clostridium difficile. Once established in a hospital, they're tough to get rid of. Established in a patient, they can be fatal."

The hospital where I have encountered the most filth was one of the London, Ontario, facilities that was involved in the handing out $4.1 million in payouts and perks to hospital executives in the five year period from 2007 to 2012. According to The London Free Press, even Ontario Health Minister Deb Mathers was offended by these payments.

"I'm outraged . . . How much health care could we have bought for that money?"

 . . . and now much cleaning?

Despite the filth I found there, St. Joe's in London, ON, rated A+ by CBC.

I got a shock when I checked the grades received by the Canadian hospitals which were part of the Rate My Hospital CBC survey. The hospital leading the pack was St. Joseph's Health Care London. This is the hospital where I found blood in a birthing room washroom and some months later in a public restroom.

Shot at St. Joe's in London: A+ facility.

This apparent anomaly agrees with one of the claims made by hospital administrators: Dirty hallways, stairwells, and other public areas does not mean surfaces that patients commonly come in contact with are also dirty. The claim is that hospitals, short of funds, put their money and their cleaning where it does the most good.

There may be some truth to the claim.

Children: Artists not craftsmen

Search for the Real: Hans Hofmann

I love my granddaughter's art. And make no mistake, it is art. It is pure art. Craft is beyond her reach. Art, as the term is used here, is creativity, while craft refers to skill.

Think of Hans Hofmann, the well respected artist and teacher who wrote a small but important book on art: The Search for the Real, or think of R.G. Collingwood, the British philosopher who wrote The Principles of Art — click the links and buy the books.

Hofmann is a quick read. Collingwood is a struggle. Clearly, go with Hofmann first.

At the age of ten I took my first art class at what was then the Willistead Art Gallery in Windsor. The classes were held in the coach house of a former estate designed by Albert Kahn, the famous Detroit, Michigan, architect.

The place had great atmosphere. Art and craft were melded together in the amazing home commissioned by the second son of whisky baron Hiram Walker.

As a student, I was far more craftsman than artist. I had good control for a young boy but I prostituted my skill. I used my skill to make quick sketches of Mickey Mouse to sell for a nickle to other students.

Drawing Mickey is easy. Just think circles. I would have taught the other kids how to draw good Mickeys but the art instructor shut down my budding business. Drawing Mickey was not art, at least he was not my art. I was told to leave Mickey to Walt Disney and his cartoon-making factory.

At that time I understood that drawing Mickey was not art. What I failed to understand was that drawing a real mouse was also not art. As long as I was a slave to reality, I was not an artist but a craftsman.

Hans Hofmann tells us: 

• "Nature’s purpose in relation to the visual arts is to provide stimulus – not imitation. . . . "
• "The creative process lies not in imitating . . . "

The camera has removed the tyranny of imitation from art but not the pressures of reality. Ink on a page is real. If you question this statement, try and wash the inks stains from a kid's clothing.

When a child puts crayon to paper, the result is real. No one should look at a child's work and say dismissively, "It's all scribbles."

Truth be told, a child's scribbles are more "real" than some very popular "art." I'm thinking here of the work of Thomas Kinkade. Although I admit Kinkade was both artist and craftsman, I think of him more as an entertainer than artist, more magician than painter.

The Treachery of Images: This is not a pipe.

Rene Magrite painted a pipe and declared, "Ceci n'est pas une pipe": This is not a pipe. No, it's not; It's a painting of a pipe. No one can take a child's art and declare, "This is not a scribble."

Fiona, 3, dips her largest brush into a pot of purple paint and declares, "This is a large colour. It needs a large space." I watch in amazement as she proceeds to dominate the white paper with broad, wavy strokes of purple.

When she puts a dab of green at the bottom, I ask her why that colour and why there. She tells me her painting needs something right there and a small green circle is "perstick." Fiona's way of saying "perfect."

Scribbles? Yes — thoughtful scribbles. These are real scribbles not like, I must confess, my scribbles. I only paint imitation scribbles. My scribbles are not honest scribbles like those done by little children.

C'est un griffonnage. Vraiment: It is a scribble. Really. And art.

Why is this important? Does any of this having any bearing on the everyday world? As a matter of fact it does.

Recalls Clement Greenberg and the David Smith's sculptures.

I stumbled on a post on the usually excellent blog Couturier Mommy. The author worked out a method of commandeering her children's art and corrupting it with her own preference for straight-edge design. She sticks masking tape to her children's work surfaces before they begin. When they are finished, she peels away the tape and peels away some of their work. "My kids make Real Art!!" she exclaims.

Yes, they do. And mom destroys it. Ceci n'est pas un griffonnage. (The blogger behind Couturier Mommy has commented on my criticism. I've pasted her polite remarks in the comments area below this post.)

"Picasso, Braque, Mondrian, Miro, Kandinsky, Brancusi, even Klee, Matisse and Cézanne derive their chief inspiration from the medium they work in. The excitement of their art seems to lie most of all in its pure preoccupation with the invention and arrangement of spaces, surfaces, shapes, colors, etc. . . . "

— Clement Greenberg

If you must have realism, there are still lots of artists working in the realistic vein, although few artists are slaves to realism today. As Fiona told me, and I am sure Hans Hofmann would have agreed, strawberries may be red in the field but they can be purple in a painting.

Grampa Bill hams it up for Fiona.

For realism, why not get an inexpensive digital camera. Satisfy your craving for realism by making your own art. I'm sure there's lots of stuff to be found in the world to excite your artistic sense.

And don't be too frightened to let a child use your point and shoot. Teach them to keep the camera strap wrapped around a wrist or arm for a little insurance against dropping, and you'll be amazed at their photography. Fiona, 3, regularly borrows my small camera.

I've encouraged a friend, who loves both realism in art and orchids, to blend his two loves and shoot pictures of his beautiful flowers. Doing this is a great way to learn to appreciate colour, form and perspective on a flat surface. It may even open one's eyes to the wonders of abstract art.

Scavenger hunt sweetens Easter

Fiona has found another paper Easter egg clue.

Andrea is a fine aunt. She knows how to entertain her niece. She pulls out all the stops when it comes to three-year-old Fiona. Sunday Andrea staged an Easter egg scavenger hunt that kept the little girl, forgive me, hopping.

Another egg clue: This one under the fish bowl.

The big problem with the more traditional Easter egg hunts are the eggs: All chocolate, sugar and fat. Watching excited children find the treats is fun but watching them munching through that mountain of chocolate, sugar and fat is a horror show.

Andrea had a solution: A scavenger hunt. All the excitement without all the junk food.

Andrea hid a dozen or so brightly coloured, egg-shaped pieces of paper around the home. She placed one on the fireplace mantle and hid another in the guest bedroom, Fiona's when she sleeps over.

Each paper egg carried a clue as to the location of the next paper egg. One egg had a picture of a barbecue pasted to it. One look and Fiona was off to the patio barbecue. Finding an image of a fish had Fiona inspecting the bowl holding Phoebe her pet Guppy.

Finding the paper egg clues takes time and thinking. The scavenger hunt delivers lots of fun and creates wonderful memories to savour in the future. The Easter basket found at the end of the hunt can be a rich mix of stuff and not overly heavy on the chocolate eggs.

It wasn't a room where I'd have hidden a clue but it worked. Glad the egg is paper.

Life never stops giving

"We seem to have reached the age where life stops giving us things and starts taking them away."

- Jim Broadbent as Dean Charles Stanforth in Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.

I'm not a fan of almost any film that is connected to Steven Spielsberg. I didn't catch the Raiders series with Indiana Jones when it was in the theatres. Today a couple of the films were on cable and I watched one. When I heard the quote that is the lede for this post, I shook my head.

Life is always giving. It is also always taking but I want to focus on the giving with this post.

I have lost my mother, my father, both sets of grandparents, all my aunts and all my uncles. Yet, I am not alone. And new faces keep arriving on the scene.

Eloise loves visiting her grandparents and all her grandparents love seeing her.

My two granddaughters with another on the way are, for me, life's way of saying the giving never stops, nor do the smiles stop coming.

;-)

The art of kids is inspirational: Grab a crayon

Sunshine after a rainfall: water colour on heavy paper by Fiona, abstract artist.

I like her work. I think she's a fair artist. But, I don't know how long she can continue cranking out work of this high calibre. She is, after all, only 3-years-old. She may outgrow her love of the abstract.

Floating: water colour on heavy paper by Fiona, abstract artist

The California hard edge painter Karl Benjamin was an elementary school teacher before he was a famous artist. Required to teach one period of art each week, he told his class to take crayon to paper and "Fill up the space with pretty colours . . ."

Inspired by the work done by the young kids, within a couple of years he was deep into his own experiments with paint and colour. Despite his art world success, Benjamin continued to teach elementary school for 30 years before becoming an art professor in the '80s.

I think I know how Benjamin felt. The work of young kids really is inspirational. Go on, grab some paint or settle for simple crayons: Crayola makes 'em in an absolutely amazing array of colours.

Flower on fridge: A work featuring mixed technique.

Blackfriars Bridge: Hasn't it earned its retirement?

When I moved to London in the '70s, Blackfriars Bridge had a 5 tonnes rating.

Read about London oldest bridge and decide whether or not you agree: Retire the aging structure. Remove it from its present location. Restore it to its original beauty. And re-purpose it as a pedestrian and cyclist only bridge.

Click the link to read the complete story on London Daily Photo.

Globe & Mail apology over Kaetlyn Osmond photo is unacceptable

Globe and Mail front page. Offended?

As a former staff photographer at a daily paper in Ontario, I am not surprised at the kerfuffle over The Globe and Mail front page photo.

The reaction of some readers was to be expected but what is surprising is the oh-so-wimpy collapse of The Globe. They made no attempt what-so-ever to defend their choice of front page picture.

Sylvia Stead, The Globes' public editor, wrote: "The readers and I both thought the photo could be embarrassing to anyone . . . " That's just creepy.

When 17-year-old figure skater Kaetlyn Osmond initially saw the photo large on The Globe front page she tweeted "I really like that picture : p."

Reading this, some reported that the teen tweeted that she liked the shot but others were confused by the emoticon; The "p" represents her tongue hanging out suggesting sarcasm. (Think "Blaaa!")

A few hours later Osmond clarified her take on the image and its play. She tweeted:

O.K. It is now clear. Kaetlyn Osmond may be only 17 but she is an adult. Sadly, the public editor at The Globe and Mail is not.

As a former newspaper photographer, I learned to watch for images that would inflame certain readers but it was impossible to catch all. And I never ceased to be amazed at what some people found offensive. One of the more common approaches taken by these all-too-common attacks was posted as a comment after The Globe apology.

An offended reader wrote: "I just think the use of the picture was calculated and they thought they wud (sic) sell more papers with a picture like that instead of well written and researched stories. That's what bothers me."

I literally cannot tell you how many times I got letters expressing just that sentiment. The first time I got a letter accusing me of picking a picture to "sell more papers", I thought the writer was just a nut. Over the years, and after many letters, I realized a large segment of the population saw all newspapers in the same sad, warped way.

Once, I shot a picture of two girls lying on a large, round, concrete structure catching some late spring sun. They were still in school, this was clear from their uniforms, and they were trying to get a bit of an early start at a suntan. They had their shirt sleeves up and skirts pulled up just above their knees. Their arms and legs touched the arc of the circular concrete form.

I found a vantage point that allowed me to shoot almost straight down. The composition reminded me of the famous Vitruvian Man drawing by Leonardo da Vinci.

I loved the picture of the two girls. It ran on one of the section fronts. Clearly the page editor liked it too. It brought praise from many folk who recognized my inspiration in my image.

It also brought me a very long and nasty letter from a local psychologist, angered by the publication of a picture rich with sexual imagery. The inclusion of the school uniforms clinched the matter in the mind of the good doctor.

I made sure that letter never appeared in the paper. That psychologist took a simple, lovely moment, a celebration of the approach of summer, and made the moment dirty. I kept that letter out of the paper; I did not want to sully the pleasure those kids were enjoying from being featured in the paper.

I wonder if Sylvia Stead is embarrassed. I confess I felt her public reaction to an innocent photo could be embarrassing to anyone . . . "