Published on Mondays, with columns by Artists and Writers
Published since 2002, an Ocean and Pounds publication
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by Fiona Smyth


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by Kai Chan

Study #2 pencil on paper

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Swan House
166 photographs by Lee Ka-sing

Published by OCEAN POUNDS
8x10 in, 20×25 cm, 348 pages
available in paperback and ebook version

Swan House has been the home for Toronto artist, educator and art critic Gary Michael Dault and his wife Malgorzata for nearly ten years. It is situated in the town of Napanee, Eastern Ontario, about two and a half hours drive from Toronto. Gary calls his home Swan House, for the gorgeous Victorian detached house was built in 1860, and elegantly bedecked with stained-glass swans. In the winter of 2019, Lee Ka-sing and Holly Lee visited Swan House for two days.

In the correspondence Gary wrote to Ka-sing and Holly after seeing the book, he said, “The photographs, soft as cat fur or the pearly backs of the rock-doves in the garden, generate an endless mystery: they seem to live both in the documentary present and equally (more so, actually) in the soft archival past… as well as a glorious nonstop beauty!”

Read this ebook online in full-screen at Reading Room


More books

Caffeine Reveries
by Shelley Savor



Forest Sanctuary

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The Photograph
coordinated by Kamelia Pezeshki



From Entanglement Series by Gordon Hawkins

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Poem a Week
by Gary Michael Dault


The Anvil

the moon opens wide
the night shuts tight
the parks are rolled up

cars lie in pieces
on both sides
of the absorbent streets

my apartment building
has turned pink
and turreted
like a conch shell
I have to move

there's a big black
office building
a mile from here
shaped like an anvil

I'll go there
and keep
my head down




by Holly Lee



Brian Rea talks at CreativeMornings Los Angeles, June 2017. Brian Rea is an internationally exhibited artist and the illustrator of the New York Times column "Modern Love."
(video 20 mins.)



Robert Wilson: Stage stills from The Tempest





by Cem Turgay


From the Notebooks (2010-2021)
by Gary Michael Dault


From the Notebooks, 2010-2022.
Number 128: Vlad the Impaler (March 8, 2022).



Travelling Palm Snapshots
by Tamara Chatterjee


India (December, 2016) – Almost two decades after my first experience in Varanasi, I returned with new excitement. My first experience, namely consisted of a warm clean bed, bed toast and tea for several days as a result of consuming questionable samosa's in a rather desperate act due a 12 hour delay at a train station. My second time around was much more adventurous, though the most appealing part was the calm moments taking in the culture, the architecture and floating atop the Ganges.

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Taking Notes
by Jeff Jackson

“ Chinese Vessel “, Asian Arts, The Ringling Museum of Art, Sarasota, 2020.



Digital Collage
by Louis Fishauf



Leaving Taichung Station
by Bob Black


“We are made of time. We are its feet and its voice.”—Eduardo Galeano

So, how do I begin to tell this particular story,

It began with the knotted sound of a bell wrong in a temple, the flutter of a golden silk robe and the line on an old woman’s hand who once spoke that I would live as long as a bird at sea.

The lacuna steeped inside.

And the years slip like breath along the edges of our skin, an abundance and a reckoning, the firmament spreads wide, like a gap-toothed space, dark and unending. Pitch and Pale above, all that which twined and coursed through you, comes forth like small accumulations. And then.

Words, like small billows under hull, tiller the jib of my meandering thoughts. Pictures, like wisps of exhalation, rudder the carriage of my body’s hinting. I have always worked both, rhyme and flap, to set my life’s navigation right—Ballast of Boom and Keel—the steerage from which I have tried to helm my way home. A halyard in its pulling.

Let the tilt of tide shuttle inside and out. The vanquished.

that voice and this then.
The Light awakens in a room. A small ache stirs—A child’s tooth,

Because of you, caught in the accordion flaps of filament, aperture and click. We begin and began and then came the switching. And then, shortly then, it was there, along the edges of photographs and along the lining of the life carved from a weary body and a drought-dry mouth. Words. Sight. You. We.
And then began, alas, a verb slipped before the comma’s opening.

The Oxen rid of their sun ranging in the shade of the trees, the hills, the dark and then a light brush, a shadow before it has been forestalled, this swaying.
Calves, children, boys, four brothers swaying in the sun

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Since 2008, INDEXG B&B have served curators, artists, art-admirers, collectors and professionals from different cities visiting and working in Toronto.

48 Gladstone Ave, Toronto


ISSN 1918-6991
Published on Mondays, with columns by Artists and Writers
Published since 2002, an Ocean and Pounds publication


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