condovo
Senior Member
Toronto's out-of-bounds attractions
Despite the triumph of Doors Open, there are important spaces that are off limits in Toronto – architecture created for the public that is, unfathomably, locked up tight
Aug 09, 2009 04:30 AM
Comments on this story (38)
Christopher Hume
The Sunnyside Bathing Pavilion says as much about the Toronto of today as of yesterday.
Built in the early 1920s, this once-marvellous lakeshore structure speaks of a time when swimming in public still entailed some modesty, not to mention formality. With its fortress-like walls and neo-classical architecture, it evokes a sense of grandeur; swimming here was not simply fun, it was ennobling.
Keep in mind that this was the place where men and women went to change into their bathing costumes, not where they went to swim. It was also a place to enjoy the scenery, read a newspaper and meet friends.
Today, it is a shadow of its former self. Semi-renovated, half-closed, it remains clearly popular. But there's a tackiness to the pavilion now that belies its builders' intentions. On a sunny evening, the café is full of Torontonians enjoying hotdogs and beer. Beach volleyballers fill the space between the building and Lake Ontario.
Look a little more closely, however, and the pavilion reveals itself as a warren of locked doors, chained gates, closed stairwells and unused spaces. Worst of all, what might be the most attractive feature of the complex, the raised balcony level that wraps around the complex, is closed. The bartender at the café explains that it can be rented for weddings, etc., but is not open to the public.
No one's sure why exactly; that's just the way it is. Indeed, that's the way it is in Toronto. Many of the city's most appealing locations are out of bounds, most notably the observation deck at City Hall and the observatory at Commerce Court North (formerly the Canadian Bank of Commerce).
The latter, which opened in 1931, ensured the exuberant Art Deco bank tower was one of Toronto's most beloved pieces of architecture. In addition to being the Tallest Building in the British Empire, it gave visitors views of the city that had never been seen before. The deck, a relatively small, four-sided space, is embellished with 16 enormous carved heads, guardian deities facing north, south, east and west. Visitors would walk through openings cut into these figures.
Needless to say, the deck has been off limits for decades. According to Commerce Court marketing and communications manager, Mary Gowan, safety is the reason.
"The deck has been closed since the '60s," she explains. "It's a safety issue at this point. We are unable to make certain alterations. It would have to be enclosed. It just wouldn't fly today."
The reason these alterations can't be made, Gowan says, lies in the fact the tower is a designated historical building.
However, that's not entirely correct. Though Commerce Court North was designated by City Council in 1991, the rules allow changes as long as they don't damage or detract visually from the building.
It's hard to believe that in the 21st century there aren't ways to bring the deck up to modern safety standards – whatever they may be – without defacing or destroying it.
The case of the New City Hall observation deck is even more irksome; after all, this is the heart of Toronto, the seat of civic democracy, a building that belongs to all of us and where we should all feel a sense of belonging.
With the deck closed, the message is clear; you're welcome here if you want to pay your taxes, get a dog licence, secure a building permit and so on. But to go to experience the building, the great architectural expression of who we are, is no longer possible.
"It's been closed for more than 20 years," says city spokesperson Cindy Bromley, "for health and safety issues. The criteria around that has changed a little since the building was built. You access the deck by going to the 25th floor and then walking up two flights of stairs. So that's an issue just for accessibility, and then when you're there there are several open areas that would also be health and safety issues if the general public was up there."
No wonder we so often feel strangers in our own hometown, or as if we're incapable of being trusted even to the extent of visiting an observation deck.
By comparison, the 1931 Empire State Building in New York has two observatories, both of which remain open. Indeed, they are said to have received 110 million visitors over the decades, making the building one of that city's most popular tourist attractions.
In Toronto, the overwhelming success of Doors Open, which drew 250,000 people one weekend last May, shows just how hungry we are for things architectural.
The safety tyrants have held sway in this and other cities for decades, however, and their efforts, no matter how excessive, are enshrined in law and practice. And so it's easier at this point just to close the door and hope everyone forgets what they're missing.
But the cumulative effect of these decisions is a critical mass of indifference that has come to characterize urban life. We move through a city that is slowly becoming an alien landscape, a place we live in but aren't allowed to inhabit fully – for our own good. We'll never know how many accidents have been avoided over the decades, of course; there's no point in asking
Do not seek, and ye shall not find.
http://www.thestar.com/news/insight/article/678433
Despite the triumph of Doors Open, there are important spaces that are off limits in Toronto – architecture created for the public that is, unfathomably, locked up tight
Aug 09, 2009 04:30 AM
Comments on this story (38)
Christopher Hume
The Sunnyside Bathing Pavilion says as much about the Toronto of today as of yesterday.
Built in the early 1920s, this once-marvellous lakeshore structure speaks of a time when swimming in public still entailed some modesty, not to mention formality. With its fortress-like walls and neo-classical architecture, it evokes a sense of grandeur; swimming here was not simply fun, it was ennobling.
Keep in mind that this was the place where men and women went to change into their bathing costumes, not where they went to swim. It was also a place to enjoy the scenery, read a newspaper and meet friends.
Today, it is a shadow of its former self. Semi-renovated, half-closed, it remains clearly popular. But there's a tackiness to the pavilion now that belies its builders' intentions. On a sunny evening, the café is full of Torontonians enjoying hotdogs and beer. Beach volleyballers fill the space between the building and Lake Ontario.
Look a little more closely, however, and the pavilion reveals itself as a warren of locked doors, chained gates, closed stairwells and unused spaces. Worst of all, what might be the most attractive feature of the complex, the raised balcony level that wraps around the complex, is closed. The bartender at the café explains that it can be rented for weddings, etc., but is not open to the public.
No one's sure why exactly; that's just the way it is. Indeed, that's the way it is in Toronto. Many of the city's most appealing locations are out of bounds, most notably the observation deck at City Hall and the observatory at Commerce Court North (formerly the Canadian Bank of Commerce).
The latter, which opened in 1931, ensured the exuberant Art Deco bank tower was one of Toronto's most beloved pieces of architecture. In addition to being the Tallest Building in the British Empire, it gave visitors views of the city that had never been seen before. The deck, a relatively small, four-sided space, is embellished with 16 enormous carved heads, guardian deities facing north, south, east and west. Visitors would walk through openings cut into these figures.
Needless to say, the deck has been off limits for decades. According to Commerce Court marketing and communications manager, Mary Gowan, safety is the reason.
"The deck has been closed since the '60s," she explains. "It's a safety issue at this point. We are unable to make certain alterations. It would have to be enclosed. It just wouldn't fly today."
The reason these alterations can't be made, Gowan says, lies in the fact the tower is a designated historical building.
However, that's not entirely correct. Though Commerce Court North was designated by City Council in 1991, the rules allow changes as long as they don't damage or detract visually from the building.
It's hard to believe that in the 21st century there aren't ways to bring the deck up to modern safety standards – whatever they may be – without defacing or destroying it.
The case of the New City Hall observation deck is even more irksome; after all, this is the heart of Toronto, the seat of civic democracy, a building that belongs to all of us and where we should all feel a sense of belonging.
With the deck closed, the message is clear; you're welcome here if you want to pay your taxes, get a dog licence, secure a building permit and so on. But to go to experience the building, the great architectural expression of who we are, is no longer possible.
"It's been closed for more than 20 years," says city spokesperson Cindy Bromley, "for health and safety issues. The criteria around that has changed a little since the building was built. You access the deck by going to the 25th floor and then walking up two flights of stairs. So that's an issue just for accessibility, and then when you're there there are several open areas that would also be health and safety issues if the general public was up there."
No wonder we so often feel strangers in our own hometown, or as if we're incapable of being trusted even to the extent of visiting an observation deck.
By comparison, the 1931 Empire State Building in New York has two observatories, both of which remain open. Indeed, they are said to have received 110 million visitors over the decades, making the building one of that city's most popular tourist attractions.
In Toronto, the overwhelming success of Doors Open, which drew 250,000 people one weekend last May, shows just how hungry we are for things architectural.
The safety tyrants have held sway in this and other cities for decades, however, and their efforts, no matter how excessive, are enshrined in law and practice. And so it's easier at this point just to close the door and hope everyone forgets what they're missing.
But the cumulative effect of these decisions is a critical mass of indifference that has come to characterize urban life. We move through a city that is slowly becoming an alien landscape, a place we live in but aren't allowed to inhabit fully – for our own good. We'll never know how many accidents have been avoided over the decades, of course; there's no point in asking
Do not seek, and ye shall not find.
http://www.thestar.com/news/insight/article/678433
