Despite my generalised crankiness about Superbuild (wacks of provinicial dough handed over to Toronto's biggest cultural institutions to hire architects and make some buildings), Will Alsop's art-school-in-the-sky has won me over. I'm slow to take to trends, and the Cindy Lauper-look revival intially struck me as a bad idea. Today, however, it's looking fine. You'd never guess it from the drawings, but the street presence of this thing is unostentatious and charming. Many many thanks to Selma for pointing me to this essay by Hugh Pearman in which (among many other things) he praises Torontonians for our friendliness. Hah. But he was hanging out under this building which does have an infectious friendly presence; just dorky enough that you let down your guard, solid enough that you don't feel threatened, graceful enough that you concede a modicum of respect. Earlier today I snuck inside for a look.
Pearman complains:
The two floors in that pixilated tabletop are carved up into cellular spaces - a college requirement, diametrically opposed to Alsop's own preference for something more akin to a giant open-plan creative playpen. So there is no great internal view.
Ouch - as someone who attended an art school and retained a shred of dignity, I object to that 'playpen' comment. Part of the reason I first objected to this building was it's message of "hey art is kooky" when there's many other things I hope for art to be besides wacky and fun, and many such critical and rigorous aspirations that I would hope be imparted to art students, even if they are ensconced in checkerboards in the sky. Thank goodness the big block is functional, and as I crept around today with my camera I passed lots of open classroom doors with lectures going on inside, lockers, storage, places to sit and work, etc. No playpens in sight thank goodness.
There are big panels of solid colour here and there, doors, window frames, etc., that are assertive but not wacky. The windows are really lovely and the view is pretty nice if you care for that sort of thing (Toronto from above). My favourite/least favourite element was "Stairway #1: Yellow Stairway" which is painted in unrelenting cadmium yellow floor-to-ceiling the whole way down the elevator shaft. I thought I'd walk it, for an adventure, but only made it down two flights before I got too spooked and ran back up. It was extreme in a fun way, a very unusual, immersive, trippy stairwell that reminded me of playing Splintercell.
On the downside, the doors to the angled stairway (that red, penile rhomboid you see from the outside) were closed and blocked off with caution tape. Also, the door on one of the elevators was broken and it wouldn't run. These two things made me a bit nervous and I was glad, when I got back to street level, that I don't work in there, despite the elegance, functionality, and lovely colours. Also I glimpsed one of my friends talking in front of a class - strEssful. Much more so than creeping around with a digital camera and writing posts for blogs.
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Despite my generalised crankiness about Superbuild (wacks of provinicial dough handed over to Toronto's biggest cultural institutions to hire architects and make some buildings), Will Alsop's art-school-in-the-sky has won me over. I'm slow to take to trends, and the Cindy Lauper-look revival intially struck me as a bad idea. Today, however, it's looking fine. You'd never guess it from the drawings, but the street presence of this thing is unostentatious and charming. Many many thanks to Selma for pointing me to this essay by Hugh Pearman in which (among many other things) he praises Torontonians for our friendliness. Hah. But he was hanging out under this building which does have an infectious friendly presence; just dorky enough that you let down your guard, solid enough that you don't feel threatened, graceful enough that you concede a modicum of respect. Earlier today I snuck inside for a look.
Pearman complains: Ouch - as someone who attended an art school and retained a shred of dignity, I object to that 'playpen' comment. Part of the reason I first objected to this building was it's message of "hey art is kooky" when there's many other things I hope for art to be besides wacky and fun, and many such critical and rigorous aspirations that I would hope be imparted to art students, even if they are ensconced in checkerboards in the sky. Thank goodness the big block is functional, and as I crept around today with my camera I passed lots of open classroom doors with lectures going on inside, lockers, storage, places to sit and work, etc. No playpens in sight thank goodness.
There are big panels of solid colour here and there, doors, window frames, etc., that are assertive but not wacky. The windows are really lovely and the view is pretty nice if you care for that sort of thing (Toronto from above). My favourite/least favourite element was "Stairway #1: Yellow Stairway" which is painted in unrelenting cadmium yellow floor-to-ceiling the whole way down the elevator shaft. I thought I'd walk it, for an adventure, but only made it down two flights before I got too spooked and ran back up. It was extreme in a fun way, a very unusual, immersive, trippy stairwell that reminded me of playing Splintercell.
On the downside, the doors to the angled stairway (that red, penile rhomboid you see from the outside) were closed and blocked off with caution tape. Also, the door on one of the elevators was broken and it wouldn't run. These two things made me a bit nervous and I was glad, when I got back to street level, that I don't work in there, despite the elegance, functionality, and lovely colours. Also I glimpsed one of my friends talking in front of a class - strEssful. Much more so than creeping around with a digital camera and writing posts for blogs.
- sally mckay 6-18-2004 10:22 am