Borenstein seems to have had heightened senses.

He marvelled at the shapes formed by clouds, at the menacing atmosphere preceding a summer storm, at the power and choreography of the winter wind. He marvelled at the dry burning heat of the August sun, at the cacophony of squawk- ing chickens, at the intoxicating fragrance of wildflowers. It was as though all his perceptions, sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell were tuned to a heightened level.

In Montreal West in Winter, Borenstein pictures an infinity of colours in snow. It makes me think of the Inuit who have at least twenty-five words to describe snow when I look at the millions of colours in this winter scene.

It is a thought Borenstein had a sixth- sense or x-ray vision.

In Montreal West in Winter he makes vis- ible the life force in trees, the heat emanat- ing from them, the sap running through them, and he paints an aura or halo of red around them.

The blowing wind in the trees, is captured in this painting through motion-blur and through the multiplying of the branches. I’m reminded of the Lascaux cave drawings where the running bison is depicted through a multiplication of its legs in all their positions.

For Borenstein, painting was more than his profession, it was his calling, his solace, his meditation. When he painted, he made the subject his, he became one with the subject.

Borenstein saw and expressed the sacredness of life, and its mysterious and awesome beauty.

I see his paintings as ‘Odes to Life.’ To this day, the odour of oil paint for me, is a fragrance rather than an odour. It is a nostalgic and enchanting aroma, that brings me back to my childhood, when I was the daughter of the artist.

Joyce Borenstein
From Lawren Harris & Canadian Masters, Alan Klinkhoff Gallery, 2017