Exploring Toronto

From the archives–an interview with Toronto architect Eberhard Zeidler about the nature trails of the neighbourhood he calls home.

Eberhard Zeidler and The Nature Trails of Rosedale

By Ian Daffern

When downtown becomes overwhelming, and you need a quick escape, try heading to Rosedale. If you find the right path, you’ll plunge into deep valleys and ravines that follow woodland creeks. The noise of condominiums and car parks melts away, replaced by a chorus of stream, wind and birdsong. And if you’re fortunate, you might catch one of Toronto’s most inspired architects out for a run.

Eberhard Zeidler is spry for a man who celebrated his eightieth birthday this year, keeping up not just a daily jog, but regular working hours at his partnership at Queen and John. You might be surprised that the man who designed such dramatic Toronto landmarks like the Eaton Centre and Ontario Place would chose such a quiet, almost pastoral place to call home.

“Life is something of opposites”, said Zeidler, “You know, because we want on one hand the dense urban life, and on the other hand we want a bit of privacy and quietness and so on. And this really gives it to you…Every morning I run in the ravine, and there are hundreds of people down in the ravine walking and running and doing all kinds of things. And it’s wonderful to have that.”

Zeidler makes his home in an almost concealed concrete and stone bunker set right into the side of the ravine valley. He’s lived in this same building, now modified, with his family since the early sixties, after migrating from Germany. At that time Rosedale was an affordable places for young families wanting to be close to downtown. Now we know it as one of our city’s toniest districts; evidenced by the frequency of Porsches, Lexuses and Filipinas leading white children indoors while carrying groceries.

Zeidler’s favourite walk encompasses Rosedale, following a “U” through the ravines on the west which run roughly parallel to Yonge street, curve around north of Bloor, and then go up through the Don Valley on the East. For the adventurous he suggests completing the loop through Mount Pleasant cemetery on the top.

In the early seventies, Zeidler declared his love for the ravines in an essay he wrote for Exploring Toronto, a walking tour guidebook to the city. His ravines are a place of romance and an almost magical connection to the city that surrounds them. “There are vistas through trees—imposing arches of bridges—running brooklets and wild life”, he wrote, “Only occasionally does an apartment tower appear like a distant castle above the trees to remind you that you have not totally escaped.”

You can tell by reading Zeidler’s walking-tour that it’s not just the trails that worked magic on him. Again, it’s about opposites. “Like the moats of a castle, the ravines define clearly the territory of Rosedale.” He wrote, “Yet, the complexity and maybe oddity of the houses is the true charm of the district.”

That remains true to this day. On every street, each house is different from the last. Looming stone juggernauts sit next to shiny-metal boxes, more closely resembling avant-garde museums than homes.

While the esteemed architect has grown to like the mansions, he also pays respect to Rosedale’s more economical modes of living, giving high marks to townhouse schemes like those on Ancroft place.

“They couldn’t be better done today” says Zeidler, “And but there’s no reason you couldn’t build such townhouse schemes that wouldn’t give you the same benefit. And I think we have to build them because we have to live denser. And we have to prevent the deforestation or the destruction of the green acres when there are these houses built on masse in these things.”

During our conversation, Zeidler speaks of “the fight”: accomplishments won for Toronto, the halting of the Spadina expressway; and the greening of the Don Valley Parkway. But there’s still plenty of room for improvement: “Hydro poles all over the place! I mean that was the first thing that struck me here, because in Europe, you don’t see hydro poles. You put the wires underground.”

“At the moment, architecture is being suppressed,” said Zeidler, “With the exception of the splendiferous buildings that we do and where we spent all the money. But they are the focus point that has to sit in an environment that fits them. And if they sit in a garbage can, you know, so what? What we need is to clean up the environment and make areas that respond to the big pieces.”

Even in his beloved Rosedale ravines, the fight’s not over. Every morning, Zeidler’s reminded of this as he runs past unsightly fences around the mouths of each creek.

“The ravines are still there, they’ve been luckily still there”, said Zeidler, “I think what I’ve been complaining about are little things. Authorities get crazy ideas like they have to protect people by putting up things like chain-link fences, which are totally crazy. When we built Ontario Place, they came along and said we have to put a chain link fence around the shoreline so that nobody could fall in the lake. Finally I succeeded to convince them that it was crazy. I mean could you imagine Ontario place with chain-link fences all around?”

Writer vs Artist

the eternal dilemna

I Been Trapped Inside for, uh, About a Week.

Just finished reading Heart Shaped Box by Joe Hill.

Recommended by Mark Askwith who heard about it from Neil Gaiman. This book. It’s cracking. Maybe you’re wondering, hey, when was the last time I read a horror novel, in the sense of an un-put-down-able page turner that made me want to hang on for the ride cause I have to find out what happens next. Cause you enjoy books and that’s how you first got sucked into them when you were a teenager—those books lying around the house that you weren’t supposed to read. Maybe it was Misery. Maybe it was Eyes of the Dragon.

Well this is like that. It’s got that momentum. And while it’s not exactly scary, I was more terrified reading something like House of Leaves, it certainly left it up in the air what the final fate of it’s protagonists would be. Story follows a fictional rocker, sort of an Alice Cooper type figure who buys a ghost on ebay, that comes in a dead man’s suit, that ends up haunting the bejeezus out of him and his goth groupie girlfriend.

Simple really. Escapist, sure.

Only about, what, less than a dozen characters in the whole book, and focuses on mainly just the couple and the ghost. Real tight. Driving. Like a locked room.

Maybe it’s the thing for you?

More on the go. Still Reading Jim Thompson books– got a massive omnibus given to me by Slates.

Also read the Ruins, which was an even more interesting experiment in horror. Shame though, that when you talk to anyone about it who’s remotely heard of it they say, “is that the movie with the plants?” Yes!   But… so much more than that!

Genuinely horrible stuff going on in it, that’s entirely driven by character. It’s another locked room, except that the tourist protagonists happened to be pinned out on a hill in a Mexican jungle rather than trapped in a farmhouse in the American midwest. but the principles the same. And all that happens, it’s entirely and horribly their fault.  Makes it really painful to read in many places, as strengths become weaknesses when exposed to the stark and the strange. Much to think about.

So much horror so little time…

Open Bar 2

A test of ze emergenzy pozting syztem.

Seems to be a bit squished or cropped a bit.

Can’t entirely tell. No black bars on the top or bottom though.

Which is nice.

Life of Y?

Just file it under, can you fuckin’ believe this guy?

The novel will be “an allegory—this time about the Holocaust—involving animals,” the follow-up to Martel’s surprise bestseller and Booker Prize-winning, ‘Life of Pi.’ The article explores Martel’s career, including frank comments from the author about Holocaust writing and his agent about the shifting publishing landscape. GalleyCat has reported on Martel’s one-man book club and possible adaptations of “Pi.”

Here’s more from the article: “Mr. Martel also declined to discuss his advance, but said, ‘Frankly, with all the years it took to write this book, if you amortize it out, it’s not as much as one would like it to be.’”

So, let’s see the math. Story about animals + overtread guaranteed Oscar bait. Hmmn. Easy. Where did we hear that before? Way to exploit a market man. “One” seems to have pretty high fuckin’ standards. Good luck with that. I hear genius takes time.

Notes on Visual Style

First year film class at U of T; one of the concepts they discussed with us was something called “invisible style”. All films have style my professor explained, all shooting has style; different choices of where you’re putting the light; where you are putting the camera; how often you cut; what type of music you use, even how your actors look. All these are stylistic choices. There’s no one version of these choices which is without style.

However there are certain sets of choices you make which are closer to what we as viewers are most comfortable with; which are less jarring; which either as something do with our natural way of interpreting the world as a series of cuts or just as we’re used to as a rhythm we’ve become familiar with over the years through a lifetime of received visual storytelling. And it is this, ’style with no style’ which fades into the background; and allows a viewer to immerse themselves in an experience; that allows a director or storyteller to calm, to coax, to lull their viewers into their vision, their fantasy.

Now. This can be done to create a seamless effect of immersion; or for subversion; a sense of a calm before the storm, before something more shocking, jarring, or powerful both narratively or stylistically. Does such a thing exist in comics?

Maybe it does… the simple box… the panel grid… Brubaker and Cameron Stewart et al use it to some effect with a ‘tv’ style frame throughout their Catwoman run, which is busted open by the dramatic fight sequences; blowout layouts, shatter panels; blast through pages. But if there are more stylistic pages done throughout; more unusual layouts; more ‘visible style’; there is less a sense of the unease. The breakup on the breakout. Do you see what I mean?

In terms of video or film, this is one of the appealing virtues of the mockumentary form; as documentaries have a set of conventions; then the subversion of it is all contained to the subject matter within the shooting style and format. Which is funny. It’s set up, you know the conventions of your picture; it’s the actual content contained within the box, whether its Spinal Tap or David Brent that becomes so shocking so unconventional.

So if you want to make something work through style, you got to be ready to play and subvert it. Everything is style. Even when it’s invisible.

Songs of the New

Well well we’re back again. Too much time I think spent by ourselves, but that’s what you get when you work as a freelancer.

So what’s going on? Discovered Platform by Michel Houellebecq.  That’s some hard writing. Damn.

I’d read his book on HP Lovecraft and found it really convincing. The subtitle was “Against the world, Against Life”, the philosophy within could be those who enjoy reading do so as an alternative to participating in life or society, or well pretty much at the exclusion of anything else. The life of imagination, being antithetical to the world outside, which is pretty much the conclusion by the end of the book.

Anyway, Platform. Never knew that such a risible contempt for pretty much everything could be so entertaining.

Kind of like Fight Club, but replacing fighting with fucking, and instead of taking on America, it’s taking on the whole world through the lens of global tourism and sexual politics.

If you can imagine that. Seriously good writing. Powerful ideas. Frightening conclusions. And some hot fucking.

And they say there’s no good sex in literature these days. And this guy won the IMPAC!

Dark & Long (Revised Edition)

Beyond just not having to be up; I’m actually up; no point in that now.

Cool dark of 6:00 in the morning. Make some instant coffee; inspired by reading some comics last night.  Catwoman wakes up her tough-guy P.I. by breaking into his apartment and making him coffee at 4 in the morning. Who would say no to that?

The collection I’m reading is some Ed Brubaker stuff, drawn by Cameron Stewart et al  from way back in 2002 when they just did the redesign on her costume. It’s weird, the costume is almost practical, with big heavy boots, cats eyes goggles hiding her eyes; with a slinky Emma Peel thing going on too. Less the ‘I’m a big sexy cat’ just jumping around the sky in skintight purple, more hey, I’m going to put on some leather and rob some houses. Maybe kick a dude in the face too.

Anyhow the new look fits the plot, which is pure noir crime all the way;  all about crooked cops and the drug trade lifted right from The Wire. And I mean that in a good way, there’s a bent cop named McNaulty (sic) for Pete’s sake. Anyhow,  Brubaker knows how to roll out a story; and feels less like a superheroine adventure than an actual crime story that happens to have Catwoman in it. Kinda like a Ms. Tree. Let’s hear it for tough dames!

Also reading: Ladies and Gentlemen: The Bible! by Johnathan Goldstein. And it is fabulous. Back copy sayz poetic and poignant, and something about being funny. I knew he was funny. What I didn’t know was that he could write stories that would actually move me. This puts him in a whole other league of funnymen. Highly Highly Recommend this joint.

After Dark: An Appetizer

From the secret stash here at Balfour Books picked up After Dark by Haruki Murakami. The Japanese novelist read in translation, so it makes me wonder how it will work.  I’ve heard that he is an influence on David Mitchell’s stuff, so I was definitely intrigued, and we certainly  move enough of them on the fiction shelf here so there must be something going on.

And After Dark best of all looked, short, enough to get a read on whether this author’s worth pursuing. That’s part of the question I guess when choosing a book. When there’s so many writers going back even in the last hundred years, do keep moving through them sampling them all the diverse range, or do you find the ones that ping with you, that resonate and explore their depths.   Depends on the writer I guess, and I suppose the way you read. I read like a comic-book geek; a teenage sci-fi freak, scouring the aisles of your public libraries for every for every last one, a completist. At least that urge is within me, which is why now as an adult, a seeker of more mature tastes I try to seek out new writers new finds that expand my knowledge my own experience and comfort zones. Which brings me to Murakami.

After Dark plots the path of a group of characters drifting through Tokyo in the after hours, caught in the space between midnight and dusk, when the rest of the world sleeps. It’s about people who are operating during these times because one way or another, they’ve each fallen through the cracks. And somehow, in tracing their encounters and emanations a narrative emerges of what it means to live in this displaced time and person.

Time flows weird and strange in the book, and Murakami’s prose captures this well, with delicacy and insight. This same precision is applied to the characters who reveal their secrets to one another. I was impressed by how much he was able to really draw out of his fictional people, their problems, their realities seemed so nuanced, so real. The details of who they were and why, and how they went about their lives in the off hours, intrigued.  And by the end of the story I was really rooting for them and wanting them to be whole.   There was also this nice mythic subplot of a sleeping beauty/snow white caught in an eternal sleep, and sometimes the glass box of a television screen. That was handled quite well as well, a quiet counterpart to the dialogue driven encounters.  Not bad at all.

So yes to Murakami. Good to try new things. The book was short, like really short, big type, supiciously wide margins. But size isn’t everything. This was the perfect sushi snack to whet my appetite for more.

How Do You Write Like AA Gill?

He might be one of the best writers I’ve ever read. Pyrotechnics? Nah. Fuck that. It’s complete control. He’s composing symphonies tracing thoughts so delicately then dropping scorn like timpanis. I don’t know if it’s classical or if it’s punk rock, cause it’s so intelligent, so free-ranging; then so bitingly fierce, so jack-knife savage. Wit! Wildean wit! Armed like a sniper to pick off his subjects, illuminating the familiar making them new and strange; delineating the weird so you’ll never see it short of his way again. Is it simply the exaggeration that makes his criticism so scouring? And if so, why do all his observations sound like their right on the money? Gill’s giant brain’s brings a storm of knowledge to his subjects, and this depth of analysis and allusion makes you as a reader feel worldly, and complicit in his conspiracy. So funny, so poignant, so mean, did I mention he’s Scottish? A.A. Gill might be my new hero.