Entries tagged with "neighbourhood"
Friday 11 January 2008
Historic signs on Queen Street
(It’s been a whole month since I last posted, and what a month. Lots of things are up in the air, but in general it’s been going well. There are promising job leads, I’ve had time to reorganize the studio at last, and resume work on some projects, both musical and electronic - more about those soon. Meanwhile…)
The other day, while Sean and I were out for a bite to eat, we noticed a store sign across the street proudly announcing “Claremont Confectionery - Smoke and Gifts - Complete Line of Guns & Fishing Tackle” in handsome hand-painted lettering… might have been forty or fifty years old, by the look of it. The building is now a restaurant, but the owners had apparently liked the sign enough to keep it around. It’s not the only such “historic” sign on Queen Street, either.
I like this sort of nod to the past. I’ve heard it criticized as pretentious and empty - like “façadism” in architecture, where the front of a historic building is kept, and attached to a brand new, usually much larger building. You’re appropriating a cultural artifact that has its own layered history, the argument goes, presumably hoping that some of its essence carries over into your new enterprise.
But nah… it’s pretty neat that elements like this are being kept, however superficial they might be. If it’s done with a bit of reverence and respect, they can help connect us with our surroundings, and remind us that we’re all part of this vast stretch of history.
I once designed a logo for a friend, which was eventually made into a sign that hung over her storefront on Queen West. I’d designed logos before, and web sites and business cards, but this felt different - the first time seeing something I’d created become such a visible part of her shop’s public face, physical and permanent.
Well, not that permanent, of course. It’s been gone for years now. Dozens of signs appear on and vanish from that block alone every year, only slightly more permanent than the cards, posters and other ephemera that flutter through it. It’s cool that every once in a while one survives.
(Next: decay, ruins, and aesthetics.)
Wednesday 1 November 2006
This summer we moved to a house just north of the Danforth, near Chester station. It’s a cozy neighbourhood, an old “streetcar suburb” from the early years of the 20th century, fairly well off, mostly single-family homes on snug little lots. And holy geez do they do Hallowe’en. It was a lovely mild night last night, and the sidewalks were absolutely crammed with parents and kids. Every other house seemed to have elaborate decorations. It really felt like a celebration, a time for neighbours to mingle, chat, try to outdo one another, and generally have fun. As a non-parent, I was very much an outsider, but it was still cool to see.
I really love it when the sound of people drowns out the sound of traffic, especially on a warm night. I strolled down Baldwin early this past summer, on the first “patio” weekend, as the sound of clinking glasses and cutlery and soft conversation drifted across the road. Between that and the lights on the trees (for some reason I love the sight of artificial light filtering through tree branches at night) it was really magical.
In other news, we looked at a great new potential office space today, near Queen and Broadview. Many cool possibilities. The hot water’s already partly solar heated, and there’s talk of a green roof, solar and wind power, and other initiatives; we’d have a lot of freedom to shape the space; they’re planning to rent out other parts of the building to other like-minded initiatives (architects, artists, and ‘green’ companies). It would be really cool to work on building a community of little workplaces there, both socially and physically, in the built/landscaped environment.
So I’ve been raving about Christopher Alexander‘s A Pattern Language, which talks about the sort of ‘building’ I mean. It’s an approach quite at odds with modern development practices, one that seeks to create spaces that have a real, genuine life, that instill a sense of wholeness, wellness, humanness, and do so at all scales, from regions to streets to rooms to windowsills. We can only do this, Alexander has argued, by allowing people to shape their own spaces in a real and direct way. I can barely do it justice in a short entry. Go read his books - they completely deserve the term “classic”.
Speaking of books, I ordered a copy of Worldchanging, the book for the office, and it arrived today. It’s a hefty little compendium of ideas and resources for making human civilization more sustainable, filed under Stuff, Shelter, Cities, Community, Business, Politics and Planet. I’ve heard it compared to the venerable Whole Earth Catalog series, and it’s not a bad comparison - page after page of useful and inspiring stuff from all over, aimed at bettering the world. Go buy it now.
(And it just so happened that when I opened it at random, the first page I came upon was the one about “Place-Making” - complete with a discussion of A Pattern Language...)
Tuesday 3 October 2006
Municipal elections are on 13 November. I suppose it goes without saying who I’m voting for mayor - he ain’t perfect, but I trust him to do right, a hell of a lot more than Jane Pitfield… But what about locally?
A couple more candidates added to the register in our ward (29: Toronto-Danforth, North), according to the big candidates list at Who Runs This Town?
Case Ootes, of course, is the incumbent - an able enough deputy during Mel’s tenure as mayor, but among other things, he’s Mister No Bike Lanes In My Ward (he’s continuing to press for the removal of the new lanes on Cosburn). “People won’t get out of their cars,” he told the Town Crier. “It doesn’t happen. This isn’t that kind of city.”
Tammy Thorne of Spacing Votes asks: “What kind of city is it then? Perhaps the better question is: What kind of city will it become if we continue to let people who think this way run it?”
At the other end of the spectrum, stalwart cycling advocate Hamish Wilson is now on the ballot as well. But the challenger with the best chance would seem to be Diane Alexopoulos - at least, she’s got the nod from Jack Layton and Peter Tabuns (MP and MPP respectively), and is positioning herself as a supporter of David Miller’s. This is one to watch, as they say.
Which leaves us with a dilemma. As new arrivals on our street, do we dare get a sign and risk alienating our possibly Ootes-lovin’ neighbours? Hmmm…
Wednesday 26 May 2004
It was a rainy long weekend, but it let up on Monday evening, long enough for the Victoria day fireworks. Last year we saw them from the rooftop of our old loft building with pitchers of margaritas. This year, we got to experience them Beaches-style, watching them from the shore of the lake.
As we walked down the darkened streets to the water, we could hear firecrackers going off in every direction - little pops and whistles and bangs filtering through the trees. Not dozens of them, but enough to tell us that pyrotechnics are more than a spectator sport here. And after the (quite impressive) ‘official’ show, a good stretch of the beach lit up with sparklers and fountains and Roman candles. I imagine every pyromaniac dad in the east end was there setting them off.
And just as cool were the natural fireworks earlier in the weekend… the thunderstorms here are tremendous, and there’s something lovely about listening to the thunder from inside a house.
Saturday 16 August 2003
“The computer’s beeping at me!” said my roommate as I came up the back walkway. It wasn’t our computer, of course, but the UPS it was plugged into, in death-throes mode. But before I’d walked the fifteen feet into the office, it conked. Poor M had no idea we even had a UPS.
We found a radio and a pile of batteries, and tuned in, the dial eerily blank except for about five music stations, CHUM (rebroadcasting CP24) and the CBC.
J arrived a little later after an hour-and-a-half trudge home from work. And then Sean arrived, hauling a small hibachi and a bag of charcoal he’d bought. Dinner was veggie burgers and chili, and a whole lot of ice cream. We sat up on the deck for the first time, surrounded by tea lights in jars.
Afterward, we wandered down to the lake. Our neighbours seemed to go for more elaborate candlelit dinners. Some of them were watering their lawns… so much for conserving water. There was a great clinking of forks and knives from the bistro on the corner, who had stayed open thanks to a gas stove and plenty of candles.
The beach was a lot more deserted than I expected. A lopsided orange moon was rising, and Mars - which I’d given up hope of seeing during its close approach - was spectacular. It was clear enough to see satellites, and some brilliant shooting stars. And quiet. Off in the distance, there was a dim glow from the dark silhouette of the CN Tower, and a red glitter of emergency aircraft-warning lights, but that was about it.
Grinning with the sheer wonder of it all, we headed back home for tea.
We were fortunate, of course. A co-worker of J’s had to help move dozens of boxes out of a friend’s sewage-flooded basement apartment. And we have power again this morning - a lot of the province is still dark.
The whole episode has really spurred us to look into solar power - it might not be that viable for a rented house, but it’s been in the back of our minds - and set a good example when it comes to energy conservation. Oh yeah, and get a windup radio.
Monday 14 July 2003
Our current building on King Street had a façade that was painted turquoise. It was garish but distinctive, and made it a good landmark for pointing out for visiting friends, cab drivers and whatnot.
About a week ago we found out we’d landed a new place out in the Beaches, practically at the eastern end of Queen Street. The very same day, our old building turned white - as if the colour and uniqueness had drained out of it.
It’s been good to us, though, and we’ll miss it.
I will not miss the Indy, which we had to put up with this past weekend; it’s probably a half-mile away, but the droning of engines all day made it sound like we were living next to some bizarre nest of motorized bees. And the crowds that packed the Bathurst streetcar back from the Ex were… a little different, shall we say.
The house itself is in a neighbourhood known as the Beach (or the Beaches), on Neville Park, the easternmost stop on the entire streetcar network. If we lean far enough out the window, we’re probably in Scarborough.
J wrote to the rest of the house:
i think we should call the house, by virtue of its distance from the city
land’s end
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