David Bowie is is a simple, yet fitting title. At its core, the Art Gallery of Ontario’s big ticket exhibition is about definition and identity – and for David Bowie is, identity is a fluid and complex thing.
David Bowie is an artist. David Bowie is a visual artist. David Bowie is a musician. David Bowie is pop musician. David Bowie is rock musician. David Bowie is a folk musician. David Bowie is an entertainer. David Bowie is an actor. David Bowie is a shape shifter. David Bowie is a mask-wearer. David Bowie is Ziggy Stardust. David Bowie is The Thin While Duke. David Bowie is a style icon. David Bowie is a creator. David Bowie is a provoker. David Bowie is an icon.
The vital first room superbly introduces the visitor into the complexities of a Mr. Davie Jones. From here, David Bowie has proven his ability throughout his career to draw from multiple influences whether it was 1984 or the American space missions or Andy Warhol or the Dadaist art movement or Kabuki theatre. He is a multidisciplinary artist who did not place parametres on what or who David Bowie is or could be. A paraphrased quote that stuck out in my mind was Bowie’s assertion that he wanted to do more than write pop songs. There was so much more to the imagination.
No photos allowed in the exhibition, but a promotional poster outside was worthy of a snap. He is forever.
The ‘ping’ moment for me came on the fifth floor while watching a performance of “Boys Keep Swinging” and reading about Bowie’s tendency to dress in drag. It was amazing to see the hand written lyrics to “Rebel Rebel”. ‘She’s not sure if you’re a boy or girl’ sums it well; David Bowie tested his audiences to figure out what exactly he was. Whether he was dressing in drag or appearing as half-man, half-dog, David Bowie could not be simply defined.
The audio guide was not your typical audio guide. Like Bowie himself, it was very innovative. In the large ‘live performances’ room, one can read a sentiment of Bowie’s that asserts his desire to generate visuals based on how his music sounded. This need to create a full experience is echoed with the area triggered sounds of the guide and the imagery of the exhibition that perhaps, for me, only became overwhelming when having to process text with the headset on.
All in all, David Bowie is is an extraordinary exploration into a great figure in popular culture. Even with the hour and fifteen minutes spent, I was not able to take in everything as wanted. But this only speaks to the richness of the exhibition. Bravo AGO.
I have never stepped inside Sam the Record Man, and I shamefully admit my memories of walking by the famous neon signs at Yonge and Gould are vague at best. My experience is limited to exploring my father’s record collection which he purchased at the store in the 80s, and sifting through what would be become new favourites like Bowie’s Let’s Dance and the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack. With this said, personal memory and collective memory are separate yet connected ideas, and while my own past does not directly intersect with the life and times of Sam the Record Man, I feel part of a collective whose past indeed does – even if those memories aren’t mine.
The issue to me is not losing the store itself. Business is a tricky endeavour, and recent high-profile examples unfortunately show that even the most profitable and high profile enterprises can fold. There are many that would like to see it in existence, and I am not diminishing those sentiments. But since it is gone, we are faced with a ‘now what?’ situation.
Well, the ‘now what?’ is what do we do with the giant neon signs. The signs are the most tangible remnants of that store, along with perhaps the records purchased from the record shop that still exist in the collections of its former patrons and the auctioned memorabilia distributed in the store’s final days. The issue is commemorating, through the signs, the importance of Sam’s and its owner Sam Sniderman in the narrative of our music and cultural history.
Many assign Ryerson University – a rapidly expanding institution and the current owners of the former site of the store – as the villains in this saga. Many lament the loss of the Yonge Street Entertainment Strip (located between Queen and Gerrard Streets), of which Sam’s was a big part of, and dismiss its current incarnation as a soulless commercial and educational strip filled with an upcoming Ryerson student buildings and a mix of big and small name shopping destinations.
A&A, Steeles Tavern, & Sam The Record Man ca. 1971 City of Toronto Archives Series 1465, File 312, Item 51
For me, times change and there should be no qualms about new epochs coming into fashion. That’s fine. The fascinating thing about Toronto is its layered history. Different occupants, one after another (or sometimes at the same time), move into an area, set up their establishments, and in doing so they transform the character of their locale. This is perhaps no better manifested than in Kensington Market.
As these transformational processes take place and time, the altered urban landscapes have the power to reveal and conceal the layered history of their use. From the 1960s to about the 1990s, The Yonge Street Strip was for the most part a music and entertainment epicentre in Toronto. The sites which have contributed to this characterization have largely disappeared. Some buildings currently employ different uses (like Friars Taven at Dundas), others have been demolished completely (like the Colonial Tavern at 203 Yonge St). The loss of Sam’s and the Empress Hotel (which has quite the history itself) were the latest in this episode. The only visible reminder is Zanzibar’s, although even that has shifted identities from a music club to a purely adult entertainment establishment. Take this further and one hundred years ago the history of the Yonge Street Strip comes a bit full circle with how we might see it today. In 1912, for example, Sam’s was Curtis-Wilson Furniture Co. and Byers Albert Jefferies, Ltd., furries. 349 Yonge – Steeles Tavern, which Sam Sniderman eventually took over – was Hele’s Ceramic Art. Co. A&A at 351 Yonge was owned by Walker Frank, a man in the clothing business. In other words, this was a retail strip in its own right.
Today, the site of Sam is occupied and owned by Ryerson Univeraity – a booming educational institution that has seen tremendous growth since its days as a polytechnic. One has to guess that growing levels of enrollment within existing programs and the addition of new programs has necessitated its spatial growth, so as much as we might curse the ‘takeover’, perhaps we cannot fault that from occurring.
So the question remains: where do the signs end up? They are doing no favours to anyone stored in a North Toronto trailer.
The original plan was to have them mounted within the new student centre as a part of the deal struck by the Ryerson-Sniderman deal. Much fuss has been made about a broken promise on Ryerson’s president who has said that signs would clash with the modernist style of the new building.
Recently renewed talk has called for the need of a Toronto Museum. Whether we have the site and leadership to finally execute such a needed endeavour is another story. It does remain, however, that the neon signs would be ideal artefacts within such as a space. This would help in telling the musical and cultural narrative of Toronto as well as the role of Yonge Street.
Ideally, I’d like to see them back a part of the street, which also was the proposal put forward by Councillor Wong-Tam and supported by Mayor Rob Ford. The signs are best preserved and presented in context. Sam’s was an important part of a certain era of Yonge Street, and its signs should be displayed at its historic intersection. In doing so, in the end, we are putting them in a museum – albeit one that lacks physical plant and invites the components of the urban landscape to be the artifacts themselves.
Urban landscapes as museums are not a new idea. The Textile Museum’s mobile app TXTile City turns the city of Toronto into a museum whose artifacts are the sites – the built forms and their related oral histories — themselves. A recent TedTalk promoted the idea of the built and natural forms of Indianapolis – the city itself – as a science museum. A Toronto Star column has outlined the importance of Yonge Street. This is our Saint Laurent Boulevard of Montreal fame. Like The Main, Yonge Street, our spine, bisects the city, connects neighbourhoods, serves as cultural and commercial epicentre, and has a very layered past. In other words, it is important in the historical, geographic, cultural, natural, economic, sociological development of Toronto.
Fortunately, we already have something like what I’ve been proposing already underway. Youryongestreet is an online crowdsourcing initiative, launched by the Toronto Public Library, aimed at celebrating the history of Yonge Street. The potential age range of participants (and backgrounds in general) allows for exactly what I’ve been talking about: the presentation of the diversity of Yonge Street. The exhibits collection features a range of images, videos, audio accounts, and written tales about Yonge Street.
Youryongestreet and the urban landscape museum I have presented are two parts in an grander museum that showcases Yonge Street’s past. No doubt the Sam the Record sign should be an artefect in that museum, too.
The Scarborough Town Centre and Scarborough Civic Centre are located in the geographic heart of Scarborough. The former also makes up the main commercial and transportation heart, and, the latter and its adjoined public square hold the administrative, political and cultural heart of the borough.
I exit the Scarborough RT and descend first upon Albert Campbell Square. The area is akin to the space in front of Toronto City Hall. Like its downtown counterpart, the forum fronts a modernist (former) city hall with an open space and stage. It is also named after a famous mayor, who, in fact, was Scarborough’s first in 1967. The square hosts and has hosted many activities such as a farmers’ market, cultural celebrations, and, in my own history, elementary school folk dancing.
The 1973 Civic Centre itself – one of a number of Raymond Moriyama creations in Toronto – is the political nexus for Scarborough. Of course, when I call it that, I note that this was more the case during pre-amalgamation Scarborough. But the Civic Centre continues as an administration centre for many city departments.
As with other Moriyama designs (North York Central Library, Toronto Reference Library), there are layers of floors.
After walking through the Civic Centre, I exit the other side. Crossing the street, I come to a field and an interesting piece of public art. The Hand of God is a hand perched atop a talk pole, propping up a man. Completed in 1973 by Carl Milles, it is symbolic of Mr. Campbell’s worldview (as expressed in the accompanying plaque).
There is construction around the south side of the Civic Centre, presumably for new condominiums. This is perhaps the latest identifying caveat – as demonstrated by the towers around Albert Campbell Square – it might also be a residential heart in Scarborough.
Update 02/07/2015:
That construction was not a condo, but the Toronto Public Library’s newly opened 100th branch, the Scarborough Civic Centre Library!
Walking inside, a new library smell greets me. I’m immediately struck by the abundance of light, wooden beams, and high ceilings. It’s actually a smaller space than I anticipated, but an amazing one nonetheless. As many have said, it’s a great addition to Scarborough and the Toronto Public Library system.
I sit down at one of the long communal tables to do some work, smiling as I periodically hear a parent ‘shhh’ing her children who are having an enthusiastic time at the KidsStop Centre. Library sounds.
When I make my exit, I ponder the fenced off construction zone adjacent to the library. Curious about it, I circle back into the library and inquire about it with a staff member at the circulation desk. She graciously tells me there’s some landscaping happening and hopefully there’ll be a parkette-type thing by the end of the summer. That’s reason enough to return!
Rounding the library, I find myself back at the civic square where an information map stump thing catches my eye. I can’t help but think that it’s in an odd location. One has to stand in dirt to read it.
I admittedly study it more than one should. It’s clearly an outdated thing because Simpson’s, Eaton’s, and The Bay (in its original 1979 spot which Walmart now occupies) are still on the map!
The old Scott Farm House – Baton Rouge, as it’s now known – is looking pretty lonely in its spot north of the mall.
I’m taking a stab that this thing dates from the mid- to late-1980s. Reasons? The Scarborough RT opens in 1985 and Simpson’s ceases to exist in 1991 when The Bay bought it out. Incidentally, this precipitated a game of retail musical chairs where The Bay moved into Simpson’s, Sears moved into The Bay, Sears moved into Eaton’s when Sears bought it out, and finally, Walmart moved into Sears. (Of course, now Sears is in trouble.)
I’m also going to guess that the wayfinding relic stump was moved here because the ‘You Are Here’ dot is not where I actually am.
For a look at the Scarborough Civic Centre and Scarborough Town Centre dated some time between 1973 and 1979, here’s a vintage image (original source unknown, although credit to HiMY SyED’s Flickr for the amazing find):
There is also a great blown up aerial shot of the area in the 1960s near the lower level food court in the hallway leading to the restrooms.
Hearing about a couple of old abandoned structures in the middle of a ravine, I explored the Duncan Mill Ruins while on my walk of the adjacent Betty Sutherland Trail. I entered from an unmarked yet paved path on the east end of the bridge on Duncan Mill Road.
I could’ve followed the path until I reached the front of the first derelict building, but in my infinite wisdom I traveled through a thick field of tall grass and logs (and bugs!). This took me to the back where I then walked around and examined it.
The building had the surrounding plant life growing through it, was defaced with graffiti, and was missing part of its roof. It also consists of two ‘rooms’, the main one having an industrial tank of some sort. I found a suitcase nearby which makes me wonder if someone actually camped (camps?) out there (I suggest and hope not).
West of this building (I nearly missed it) is another building. This one is smaller and more in tact. It’s certainly got a roof anyways. A look inside produces a space full of debris and garbage.
As for the speculation on the uses of these buildings, they are clearly industrial. Beyond that, I have none. The North York Historical Society looked into them in 2011 and offered some intriguing explanations, but the status of this report is unknown. A blogger from that same year, whose post I consulted while looking for info on the Betty Sutherland Trail (and indeed first informed me of the Duncan Mill Ruins), did a bit of digging on some of the machinery in the large structure.
I would be very intrigued to know if the NYHS does any more work, but for now, this was an intriguing find.
Update (December 3, 2015): Through some investigative work, Jason Ramsay-Brown of Toronto’s Ravines And Urban Forests speculates that they were a pumping house for Henry Rupert Bain’s Graydon House estate, located east of Don Mills Road!
The slogan on every Toronto Parks & Recreation sign is ‘A City Within A Park’. And indeed many of the city’s parks and trails involve the interplay of natural and urban environments.
The Betty Sutherland Trail in North York is a part of Toronto network of ravines, and follows the eastern branch of the Don River from Duncan Mill Road just west of Don Mills Road to Sheppard Avenue and Leslie Street. I enter from Duncan Mill Road, noting the existence of the nearby Duncan Mill Ruins.
At the bottom of the tiny slope is a plaque dedicated to the park’s namesake, Mrs Betty Sutherland, who championed parks during her political career within the former municipality of North York. I begin my exploration by going off the trail and looking out into the river.
The trail itself is rather winding at times falling right beside the river while crossing it a few times. It is also well used, especially the section closer to Duncan Mill with a quite a few walkers, runners, and cyclists.
The trail also has rest points in various locations. Stopping at a picnic bench, I take out my copy of Amy Lavender Harris’ Imagining Toronto (@ImaginingTO). I pre-marked a specific section ‘Ravine City’ in her book which examines the portrayal of Toronto’s ravines in fiction, which I thought was very fitting considering my location. Every so often I’d stop to consider the details, such as the sometimes dark associations Toronto fiction and, by extension, Toronto writers and residents have had with these particular geological features. Before I can finish the section, I opt to continue my walk as mosquitoes begin their feast on me.
It was very odd experience burrowing deeper into this trail which speaks to this “City Within A Park” motto. On the one hand the riparian corridor and the quiet sounds of creek itself allow for a very serene time within this natural environment. On the other hand, if I care to listen, I can also hear the faint yet unmistakable sound of speeding traffic coming from the nearby 401. This is the strange cross section between Toronto’s natural heritage (or, at least, natural features) and the built heritage or environ around or, in this case, on top of the natural.
Speaking of, I pass under the highway half-way into the trail. Or at least, I deem it halfway if only because it acts as the southern border to Henry Farm neighbourhood. A short while past the highway I encounter a fork in the path: one would lead up into the residential neighbourhood and the other continuing as I was. I opt to venture the streets out of the foreknowledge of the nearby Oriole Lodge, the estate house built by George S Henry, as well as the Henry Mulholland Cairn dedicated to his great-relatives.
Source: Wikimedia Commons.
After that detour, I get back to the trail, where I encounter several fruit trees and tributaries to the river. I’m also able to see, poking through the trees, the far off ‘H’ of North York General Hospital. I exit at the intersection of Leslie and Sheppard, where across the street at the northwest corner I see another trail begins. For next time.
After climbing off the 83 bus at Queen Street, I walk back to the north end of Leslie Grove Park and start exploring from there. I’m immediately greeted by a series of trees lining the east side of the park (located at Jones and Queen in Leslieville) which I learn later on relate to the site’s history and founder.
Moving past the baseball diamond, I am led to a splash pad with chalk designs. Beside that, a playground and a clubhouse beyond that. Like most parks, this is a very family-friendly environment.
At corner of Jones and Queen, I come across a flowery path and commemorative plaque by Heritage Toronto. Its subject: the park’s namesake, Mr. George Leslie, and his tree nurseries which were once hosted by this site. Across the street is the much photographed mural of the neighbourhood also named for him. Highlighted within it is another local hero, Alexander Muir.
On the way out, I take a final closeup of the trees towering over the park, which is the apt location for an annual tree festival organized by LEAF, Toronto Parks, and the local City Councillor Paula Fletcher.
Scenes From Toronto
Explorations into the history and geography of Toronto
