Dennis Mantin was born in Toronto in 1958. However, he grew up in rural Nova Scotia and Cape Breton, where he was introduced to painting and literature.

Mantin left the east coast for Alberta in 1980 and landed a job as a nude model at the Banff School of Fine Arts with acclaimed American Painter and Sculpter Eric Fischl. Meeting Fischl opened his feelings and eyes to really seeing color and tone; even in the most unexpected places.

In 1992, after having returned to Toronto, Mantin dedicated himself to painting and had the good fortune to meet the extraordinary Canadian poetic Painter Paul Fournier, which ignited a lifelong creative friendship. With Fournier’s mentoring, Dennis mounted his first solo exhibition in an antique store in The Beaches neighborhood of Toronto.

After a decade of painting and exhibitions, raising a family and life circumstances forced Mantin to give his attention elsewhere.

In May of 2014, Mantin renewed his relationship with painting and was invited to share Paul Fournier’s studio, which culminated in a solo exhibition at the Abbozzo Gallery at 401 Richmond Street. The exhibition was called The Meditation and alluded to Mantin’s recent interest and dedication to the practice and study of mindfulness Meditation.

While working on The Meditation, Mantin was encouraged to reexamine his writings, which stimulated a revision of a short screenplay from 20 years earlier.

The short film, a 15-minute drama entitled The Meditation, was written, directed, and produced by Mantin in 2017 and featured world renowned actor Jonathan Hyde of the Royal Shakespearen Academy. Jonathan won best supporting actor at the Top Shorts Online Film Festival, and Dennis received an honorable mention for narrative at the same festival. The film received the Award of Excellence from the Canada Shorts Film Festival in 2017.

Dennis started his WordPress blog in 2013 and has over 2000 posts in the decade that followed.

In the autumn of 2023, Dennis will publish his first novel, ‘LOOK THEM IN THE EYES’ with Canadian publisher Friesen Press.

Dennis is a single father, currently living in Toronto with his 12 years old daughter Zylia and their cat Ned.

Dennis Mantin

There’s a sandbar that stretches 12 miles into a Great Lake, and if you walk far enough down that sandbar, approximately 8 miles, is where you will find a nude beach. It’s a paradise of nature…
I have seen the sky here filled with Monarchs by the thousands, for here is a migration point for things that fly, like monarchs and ladybugs and many types of birds. However, the migrations are later in the year, in September, and this story was under a much hotter sky.
I took a woman who never experienced this and was curious and after what could only be described as a perfect day of sun and nature, it was time to walk back into the real world where people wear clothes.
She was happy and beautiful and relaxed and free, and I even saw humor in her inability to stop staring at the other nude bodies. The sun began to set on a perfect day, and I suggested we go back.
There’s a sign in the sand that leaves no doubt that beyond this point lies civilization and where I put on my shorts.
A mile on and several strong suggestions to the point that it MIGHT be time to put some clothes back on went ignored. Several people gave glances her way and returned their eyes to the sand.
By the time we reached the parking lot, I had reached a boiling point, and this is where that relationship ended.
On the drive home, I ranted and pined.
“What the fuck were you thinking about!?”
“How do you find it necessary to turn a perfect day into me yelling and wondering if it’s safe for me to take you anywhere, because I don’t know what the fuck you’re going to do!?”

Later in therapy in an attempt to understand my rage, and her behavior my therapist said.
“You may owe her an apology… your anger is understandable however I suspect she didn’t want, what you described as a perfect day, to end.”
Dennis Mantin

Zylia said, “Mom can’t read a room.”

I thought to myself, ‘How can you read a room when you never shut up?”

When Zylia laughed, I realized I had said that out loud.

The passion of Kevin Clark was apparent and written in charcoal black letters at his sidewalk home at Adelaide and Bay in Toronto in 1999.
“You’re standing on my home.” Kevin said to me as I waited for the light to change with the others.
“How would I know it’s your home?” I asked.
“Because my name is written right there.” He pointed to the letters written on the sidewalk.
N.I.G.G.E.R.
Kevin smiled as he watched the look of shame that crossed my face…

Rising from some ancient conscience.

He said, “What nigger means to me is probably different than what it means to you.”
“What does it mean to you?”
“Never is God giving evil respect.”

Dennis Mantin

Jack was a career criminal at a time when him and his associates lived by rules and codes…

He was north of 60 when I met him and he swore he wasn’t going back inside.

Jack told me, “Everybody thinks they can go through life and not live by any rules. I’m here to tell you that you’re going to have to live by at least 2 rules.

Everybody knows knows rule # 1; however, very few know rule # 2; and… Rule # 2 is never shit in your own nest.”

It’s been 40 years since I’ve seen Jack and I like to think he managed to stay true to his rules.

I learned to meditate in prison from an old convict named Jack Miller. When I could melt the bars away, he taught me the rules of life. He said.

” Everybody goes through life thinking they don’t have to live by any rules…
“I’m here ta tell ya, yur gonna have ta live by 2 rules.
“Everyone knows rule number 1. However, very few people know rule number 2.
“Rule # number 2 is never shit in your own nest. ”
“What’s rule number 1?” I asked.
” I’m glad you asked.” He answered.

“It depends on what you are. If you’re a criminal like me, then it’s never get caught. If you’re a civilian, then it’s some version of do no harm to others.”
I confessed. “I think I’m a civilian. ”
Jack smiled, ” For you, my friend, I think that would be wise.”
Neither one of us ever went back. I was 20, and Jack was 60.

Dennis Mantin

It’s hard to explain. How time flies.

Felt an older pain of some sad  goodbyes.

That couldn’t push away. You know I tries.

Memories fade faster than no dry eyes.

I was wrong. You were/are the best.

To know you, I was so blessed.

Thanks again, and now I confessed.

Letting go now is off my chest.

A rich man drives a taxi.

A poor man drives a Ford.

But my old man

Goes down the street

With four wheels on a board.

MARGARET MANTIN

I have a rule at home that goes something like this. I don’t care what you tell them out there in the world, but here at home; you tell me the truth.

If I find out that I’ve been lied to, then I usually react in a frothy emotional outburst.

I have noticed that my reactions have neither slowed down the rate of the lies or changed anything.

Therefore, I am beginning to believe that truth is a myth we tell ourselves. Clearly, I don’t know the answers for certain. However, since I used to be physically beaten as a child in an attempt to stop me from not telling the truth; I see this development as steps in the right direction.

Hence, the frothy emotional outbursts have ceased…