Todd Stewart reveals the everyday activities that bring him joy and purpose

CBC

24-02-2025

3 Reflections of a Montreal Winter is an original personal essay by Todd Stewart. It is part of Mirrors, a special series of new, original writing featuring work by the English-language winners of the 2024 Governor General's Literary Awards, presented in partnership with the Canada Council for the Arts.
"I will write a diary entry-type narrative. Three separate — not necessarily connected — reflections, in which one entry reflects on creative practice, skating outdoors and the infinity room at a museum.
"I'm writing less specifically about connecting with the children's book world and more about the activities that have me feeling a more profound connection to myself and the world around me (as noted in the first sentence of my text). So, I bring a little more reflection of how reading children's books is part of this," Stewart told CBC Books.
CBC's Radio One will host an episode featuring participants from this original series.
Stewart won the 2024 Governor General's Literary Award for young people's literature — illustrated books for Skating Wild on an Inland Sea, written by Jean E. Pendziwol and illustrated by Stewart.
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3 Reflections of a Montreal Winter
Finding meaning in my life is a dance between connecting with my own self and with the people in the world around me — family, close friends, colleagues, neighbours and strangers.
I keep a list of certain activities that, if done regularly, boost my ability to get through life and function properly. When I'm down, I check the list. Am I sleeping enough? Am I exercising enough? Am I engaging with art? Drawing? And am I reading children's books?
Skating as ritual
In Montreal winters, as soon as the temperature drops below zero, I regularly monitor the ice conditions at my local outdoor rink. My vigilance borders on obsession; our winters are much warmer than in previous years, and good ice days are the exception. I just love to skate. As the years go by, I've realized that it has become a ritual for me, one that brings me joy. If the ice is good, I'm a happier person.
I keep a list of certain activities that, if done regularly, boost my ability to get through life and function properly. When I'm down, I check the list. Am I sleeping enough? Am I exercising enough? Am I engaging with art? Drawing? And am I reading children's books?
I always skate with a stick and puck. I grew up in the Prairies playing hockey. If there's a net, I'll shoot at it. I like the snapshot. I love backwards crossovers. I always play if I'm asked. "Es-tu game?" You bet. But mostly, I search for the best time when I can be alone on the ice: mid-morning after it has been flooded overnight. I shoot at the net; I am weightless and focused. An hour goes by in a second, my eyelashes are glued together, and clouds of steam rise out of my collar. In these solitary moments, I feel I've done something for, and with, my body, in a moment of reprieve from the world around me.
Bodies, multiplied
My family steps into an Infinity Room at the Broad Museum. We get one minute, and the three of us go in together. I remember feeling distracted, somehow not present. I grab my phone and take photos of our dark, distorted shapes surrounded by coloured lights. Our bodies are multiplied and reflected into a murky distance that somehow isn't horrifying but instead is comforting.
I take this all in through the screen of my phone. Emily breaks my trance by speaking to me, pointing my attention towards the bottom right corner. I forget about taking photos, about the outside world, and stare into infinity, away from my reflection. For just a few seconds, I feel similarly to the moments after I've gone skating, that somehow I've done myself some good. This time, I am conscious of having shared this moment with the two other people in the room, then with the artist herself, and even the rest of the people in the Museum.
Shifting streaks of blue
Over the last several years, I have cultivated a regular swimming practice. I try to swim regularly because it, too, has become a sacred activity for me, a marker of my happiness. I am one of the neighbourhood artists in Our Lady of Mile End, taking advantage of open swim times at their local Y to use the showers and steam room. And swim.
I dip under the water. Shifting streaks of blue blend together; I'm inside the pages of When You Can Swim. It's the best kind of mirror, the kind where you don't look at yourself, but you can still listen. I pay attention to my body and breathing, which parts move differently today, and how I receive and pass through the water. The dark, distorted shapes of other swimmers pass quickly beside me. It's a solitary activity, but I'm acutely aware of the other swimmers; we are all different versions of each other, passing through space and time.
It's the best kind of mirror, the kind where you don't look at yourself, but you can still listen.
Whether it be moving my body or experiencing a piece of art, in these moments, I'm somehow connecting with the other versions of myself past and future — performing the same activity. In doing things that may seem solitary on the surface — such as reading a good picture book — I'm not only communicating with my other reading selves but with the community of people around me who have made this moment possible. In these moments, I now feel more connected with the book's creators and publishers, those who fund libraries, teach literature in schools and celebrate a good read — and, of course, other children reading the same stories. And this brings me joy.
About Todd Stewart
Todd Stewart is a Montreal-based illustrator and printmaker. His picture book The Wind in the Trees (Quand le vent souffle), was a nominated for the TD Canadian Children's Literature Award and the Governor General's Literary Award for young people's literature — illustrated books.
The English-language books that won the 2024 Governor General's Literary Awards demonstrate how stories help us reflect on our lives, understand ourselves more deeply and see the world in new ways.
CBC Books asked the winners to further explore the power of reflection in original works. The special series, themed around the theme of mirrors, challenges how we see ourselves and our society — unearthing hidden truths, exploring alternative identities and blurring the lines between reality and fantasy.