After 12 years Fly Gallery is packing it in. Our mandate has been to keep art accessible and contribute to the cultural life of the street. Since 1999 the development of this stretch of Queen St. has changed the dynamic of that culture. One may call this development ‘Gentrification’. Often associated with negative connotations it is a reality of many urban neighbourhoods. Whether the development is a good or bad thing, it is a factor in why Fly is leaving Queen West. Is this Paradise Lost or a new beginning? The spirit of Fly will live on and we have invited artists to say goodbye with us. Paradise Lost June 24 - Aug. 13 Fly Gallery (a window for art) 1172 Queen St. W. Participating artists: Shinobu Akimoto, Dave Anderson, Myfanwy Ashmore, Adam Brown, Tara Bursey, Julia Burton, Rita Camacho, Maureen Carruthers, Scott Carruthers, Carlo Cesta, Mark Connery, Rob Cruickshank, Rebecca Diederichs, Michael Enzbrunner, Matt Evans, Sybil Goldstein, Clint Griffin, Libby Hague, Katharine Harvey, Kathleen Hearn, Robert Hengeveld, Gordon Hicks, Sanja Huibner, Tina Huibner, Marcia Huyer, Matt James, Michelle Johnson, Rae Johnson, Kristiina Lahde, Mark Laliberte, Gary MacLeod, Allison McCall, Gavin McMurray, Lorna Mills, Caroline Mosby, Katharine Mulherin, Lisa Neighbour, Stephen Niblock, Sandy Plotnikoff, Warren Quigley,Tanya Read, Kat Roy, Rupen, Lyla Rye, Lisa Deanne Smith, Fiona Smyth, Phil Taylor, Michael Toke, Jason Van Horne, Ehrling White Fly Gallery group exhibition in conjunction with Paradise Now/This is Paradise Fly Gallery is a storefront window, offering a free alternative exhibition space for artists. Tanya Read and Scott Carruthers are the co-directors.

Fly spotted at Fly during installation of Jean McKay's Crepuscular Fenêtre

It's the end of an era. Back in 2005 I wrote a profile of the Fly gallerists for the Coach House book uTOpia. Here's a couple of excerpts:

The relationship between art and ambition is complex, and "mid-career," like "middle age" is a dreadful phrase. An "emerging" artist is welcomed, their ribald irreverence a refreshing kick at the old order. An "established" artist (of which there are considerably fewer) is both loathed and revered, conceded a position in society that is rarely very lucrative but invariably acknowledged as carrying cultural weight. The "mid-career" artist simply stumbles along, devoted to their work, wrestling with their demons, trying to keep body and soul together, and bravely hoping that their efforts are meaningful to somebody somewhere. In such circumstances, a shifting niche can feel like betrayal. As Queen West is increasingly characterised by its high-brow nightlife, it is no wonder if local community-minded artists are feeling a little lost. Which is why the tiny Fly Gallery is a flagship of inspiration.

Fly is a small window gallery that has been operating on Queen Street for about five years. Scott Carruthers and Tanya Read are two remarkably grounded artists who live in the storefront apartment and run the gallery as an offering to passersby. They do not sell the art on view, they take no commission, nor do they charge rent. As Scott explains, "There's no capitalist concept at play here, it's just about displaying art." Sandwiched between the upscale "boutique" Drake Hotel and the not-quite-so-upscale Gladstone Hotel, the Fly charts its own cultural path through the high-brow/low-brow maelstrom, a genuine labour of love.

[...]

What would it take for Fly Gallery to leave Queen Street? "Well," says Tanya, "if the rent gets prohibitive, or if a really loud bar moves in next door..." Scott scoffs, "We've already tolerated a loud karaoke bar next door, and before that it was a smokey pool hall with no windows. We used to choke in here, but we stayed."

As urban demographics shift so too does the public perception of the artist's life. A condo-dweller, purchasing an "authentic artist' loft" near Bloor and Lansdowne may not realise that scant months previously a bunch of artists living in the building were kicked out to make way for the development. Since art is invoked as a selling point in classy joints—from real-estate to nightclubs—those culture consumers who aren't directly involved with art may be forgiven for thinking that artists themselves also exist as a financial elite, when in fact most are scraping by. But this discrepancy also leads to misperceptions about the role of art itself, and the frequent public expression that artists are pulling a fast one, getting rich on esoteric abstractions that that any "six-year-old could make." In reality of course, Queen Street's burgeoning gallery scene is primarily showing artists who work at day jobs to support their careers. While money is always needed and appreciated, the offering of art itself is more frequently gratified by response from engaged viewers than by financial gain. In this respect, the tiny Fly is exemplary, displaying art for the simple reason that art should be seen, in the midst of the ever intensifying culture-tainment glam that has descended on the microcosm of these few blocks on Queen Street West.