Jane Siberry: Bound for Glory

IT IS A LONG climb up two flights of stairs, past a wall of hanging hats, into Jane Siberry's private world. In many ways, her third-floor apartment in Toronto's west end is a typical artist's garret: small, bright and sparsely furnished. And like her songs, which offer unexpected views of daily life, Siberry's living quarters reveal an assortment of striking snapshot images: a sundrenched guitar leaning against a wall, an unused painting easel standing in a corner, a solitary oak table sitting in the front room.