Encore!

12 August 2017 – Well, it’s been Music City around here, and my ears are grateful.

All those hours on Spyglass Dock, bathed in one musician after another, and then immersion in the Bach Festival. I’m walking back through downtown after one of the afternoon performances, not exactly humming Bach, but certainly still somewhere in that universe, when I hear — alive-alive-o — very happy music, of quite another mood.

Not the call of the crow. But related.

Sort of.

I’m passing City Square, and here’s another of the Pianos on the Street. Complete with musician and audience, as they usually are. The website blurb is amazingly true to what I’ve been seeing, around town.

Pianos On the Street is about more than just placing a piano in a location and giving people an creative outlet to express themselves in public. Every step of the way, we focus on how we can deliver the best musical experience possible while also doing our part to support and have a positive impact on the local communities.

… We spend anywhere from 10-15 hours on each piano, carefully tuning it and ensuring that it’s maintained to the highest performance standards.

…  Every year, each piano is hand-painted by non-profit groups such as Canuck Place Children’s Hospice and Cascadia Society. We work together to ensure that they have the supplies they need and help them to brainstorm designs.

Beyond the painting, we also love it when pianists get creative in their performances.

And this pianist is creative, yes he is, having a good time and giving the rest of us a good time as well.

By now I’m seated on a bench. The young man next to me gathers his backpack, prepares to leave, we exchange glances & smile, the way strangers do when they discover they are enjoying the same thing.

“I live around Olympic Village,” he says. “I’m around these pianos a lot. The other day? I watched this kid sit down — not here, one of the other locations — anyway, he sits down, he’s maybe 8 years old. And he plays Rachmaninoff! Rachmaninoff! Cross-hands and all!”

We shake heads at each other, admiring, agreeing.

“See you,” he says, and off he goes.

I settle back, and listen a little longer.

 

 

 

Walk & Gawk

28 July 2017 – Tuesday we do indeed go walkies on the Arbutus Greenway, as promised in my previous post. Another bright sunny day, so I’m armed with hat/sunblock/water.

I’m first to arrive at the 6th and Fir Park, the north (False Creek) end of this 11 km pathway stretching south along a disused rail corridor to the Fraser River. (In fact, we’re still on temporary pathways, with the final work yet to be done, but the details are beyond me and … frankly … at the moment I don’t care. I’m happy as is.)

Being first to arrive, I kill time reading messages on the Park noticeboard. Here is my favourite:

Have you ever seen tattooing so winsomely advertised? I am thoroughly charmed — though not enough to respond to the ad.

Lots of notices, lots to read, and this lady ignores her pooches long enough to scrutinize them all. Maybe she’s local, checking for updates?

Busy park, 9-ish in the morning: a volunteer (I assume) watering & pruning, a visitor checking her messages, parents & toddlers (out of frame) in the mini-playground. And a discarded water bottle. This is real life, after all, not Fantasy Land.

The Park’s online write-up includes, in its list of amenities, a water fountain. It should, but doesn’t, point out there is a canine fountain as well,

Frances arrives, we slap on another layer of sunblock, swig some water, and set off.

And stop pretty darn soon, because who could resist this gate?

Not us. The gate is unlocked, even better, so we head in. I linger to admire all the fun someone has had, creating the objets d’art — all from objets trouvés — on the gate.

Turns out we are visiting the Vancouver Compost Demonstration Garden, which since 1990 has been a joint project with the non-profit City Farmer Society. The Society manages the Garden; the City taps multiple departmental resources (Solid Waste, Water Design, Parks, Health, Green Streets…); all this to show Vancouverites a whole range of ways to “go green” at home.

Raised produce beds and other features show us water conservation techniques, pest control, and composting options. Including — but of course! — a very classy composting toilet.

Back to the Greenway.

We’re still in the northern section, with community gardens and wild greenery all around. Including blackberry bushes, their fruit just beginning to ripen.

See those few fully ripe berries? They are no longer on the bush. They disappeared, lickety-split, down our throats.

Not a lot of art on display, and it would be ungrateful to demand that the Greenway also be an art installation. All the more reason to enjoy the artist’s palette on a signal box (or something) ’round about where we cross West 16th.

Farther south, we’re on a long staightaway of naked paved pathway. Not pretty. It’s a relief to arrive at a stretch that is, we suddenly realize, lined with painted rocks. Well … at least it’s something.

I warm to it when I see a Vancouver Biennale sign, explaining that this is a BIG IDEAS Education Program carried out by grade 2 students at York House School. After seeking community input, they decided to beautify their stretch of the Greenway with these long lines of rocks —  more than 800 in all, moving from one colour block to another.

But! Wait-there’s-more! Turn over a rock or two. Go ahead, says a sign; do it.

So, in a red-rock stretch, we do.

Love it.

Even farther south, we’re back in cascading greenery, here up and down a retaining wall with trees soaring overhead. Vancouver keeps stunning me, the way green stuff just tumbles over other green stuff…

And suddenly we’re crossing West 41st, where, I am very reliably informed, there are excellent cafés.

We admire yet another harlequin painted signal box (it seems to be the Greenway theme), plus the wooden bench behind it with old railway axles (or something?) for end pieces …

and head for a near-by bistro.

Which is as good as promised.

I pass up my usual almond croissant & try something new: a flaky sacristain —  twisted puff pastry with ground almonds and cinnamon.

All I can say is: go find yourself a French bistro, and try it for yourself! (Or follow this recipe.)

 

Bees & Bears

22 July 2017 – The title is not inspired by A.A. Milne, but Pooh’s lament does come to mind. Remember? He is at the foot of a tree, the bee hive (surely dripping honey) is high overhead. If he wants that honey, he will have to climb.

It’s a very funny thought [he observes] that if bears were bees,

They’d build their nests at the bottom of trees,

And that being so, if the bees were bears,

We shouldn’t have to climb up all these stairs!

I am not thinking about bees or bears or stairs, as I weave my way home last Monday evening, I am thinking about the fun we just had doing an outdoor Taoist Tai Chi demonstration next to False Creek. I turn at random on a nearby street, pause to admire a series of raised planters, and wonder — very vaguely — what the little raised wooden structures are all about.

 

See? One per planter.

Then I see the signs on the wall. Big Rock Urban Brewery is not maintaining these planters for human enjoyment; they are bee habitats.

I like this. I like that they care for bees, and educate humans as well. I learn things about prudent behaviour around bees. I resolve not to “act like a bear.”

And that’s that, for a couple of days. I do not think about bees.

Until I am again wandering home in the early evening, this time from an Iceland presentation out in Kitsilano (“Kits” to its friends). Again a random turn, on a random street, in that golden pre-dusk light.

And look what pops up.

“Pop up” being the right phrase: I have stumbled upon the City of Vancouver’s 5th and Pine Pop-Up Park. Created in late 2016, it offers community meeting space with a large wildflower garden designed to attract bees & other pollinators.

Just look at all those bees.

And not just on the walls!

Those black specks among the wildflowers are, oh yes, real live bees. I remember the rules on that Big Rock poster. I keep calm, step back, and strive not to act like a bear.

It works. I walk through the park and around the next corner, unstung, and very impressed.

Only to be even more impressed. Now I’ve landed in the Pine Street Community Gardens. I stand there and laugh. How can you just turn a downtown corner, and, boom, fall into this kind of magic?

It’s older than the pop-up park, I later learn: founded in 2006, running parallel to disused railway tracks, with an Orchard Side (apples, pears, plums, etc.), a Garden Side (more than 40 plots), modest yearly fees and, not surprisingly, a waiting list of would-be gardeners.

There are vegetable plots …

and flower plots …

and a brightly painted storage shed.

With bee hives.

I again act not-like-a-bear. It again keeps me safe.

There’s a sign, up on that storage shed. I always read signs.

Yet more serendipity.

See that reference to the Arbutus Greenway? It’s very much a work in progress, early days for a trail that will repurpose the old CPR tracks to provide a walking/cycling/rolling corridor from False Creek to the Fraser River.

Temporary pathways are already open. One starting point is right here, in yet another pop-up park at the eastern end of the Community Gardens, at West 6th & Fir.

Frances & I have already decided to explore the Greenway in next Tuesday’s walk. I plonk my bag on the bench, and send her this photo:

“Bag marks the spot,” I say. “See you there!”

Consider this your Sneak Preview…

 

 

 

 

“Everything talks…”

16 July 2017 – Apparently mum used to waltz toddler-me around the place, crying “Everything talks, in our house!” and inventing dialogue among assorted inanimate objects to prove her point. It surely amused me, seems to have imprinted me: I have a vaguely animist view of the world, and now amuse myself with multi-stream messages as I go about my day.

A row of Muskoka chairs at Spyglass Dock on False Creek, for example.

Happy messages, starting with the visual — bright & cheery on a bright, cheerful day. A slew of memory-messages as well: Muskoka chairs by lakes in Muskoka itself; more of them in Toronto parks bordering Lake Ontario; now here by tidal False Creek in Vancouver; all of them an invitation to relax & enjoy. And so an emotional message of gratitude: how lucky I am, to live where public space offers such enjoyment, and it may safely be enjoyed.

Walk-walk eastward along False Creek — my Tuesday walking ritual appears reborn, here on the Left Coast — and eventually we run out of water, continue along East 1st Av. into a once-grungy part of town being reborn with art galleries, studios, housing & (surely the magnet) relocated Emily Carr University of Art + Design.

Another message, a wall mural, talks to us. Or, perhaps, at us. We are befuddled.

It is large, in clear text, and in English. What’s our problem?

I am still befuddled about the word-message, but I like the Look-At-Me message. Something well-executed, provoking (best sense of the word) and in public space? All good.

Into a gallery, where there are some painting-paintings, and then there is … well… another example of a message delivered large, in clear text, and in English.

We are not befuddled. But we do break our museum-cool sufficiently long enough to giggle.

Don’t answer that.

Jump forward a day. This time I’m on my own. I’d planned to walk back up to the VanDusen Botanical Garden (worth many visits), but get diverted. As I often do.

I find myself in Shaughnessy Park, a small and simple lozenge of tree-hung space on a height of land near Granville Street. No amenities except benches, under the trees.

I lean back on a bench, relax into the bench, look overhead.

What talks here? Eye and ear messages, both. Sun shimmering through the trees, dancing green air, occasional background rattles of crow or squirrel. Occasional car-whooshes, too, but dialled ‘way down to insignificance by my calmed & peaceful brain.

A different sound claims my ear, when, eventually, I pick myself up to head home.

Do-mi-la.

Not a human whistle, definitely mechanical, but still sweet not harsh. (And so much more interesting than do-mi-so would have been!) Again. Do-mi-la. And again …

My eyes follow my ears to a young City Maintenance worker at an open sewer grating. The three tones die away yet again as she reads the instrument in her hand & calls out, “Got it.”

I follow her to her truck. “?????” I ask.

One worker sends the tone from one open grating, she explains; the other waits to receive it at the next. If, when and how the tone arrives tells them if there is any blockage in the water line, where, and how much. No need to drop cameras into the system any more. (Let alone small children with goggles & fins, as my Dickensian imagination would have it.)

Music is the message. It talks. I love it.

I am in a seriously up-market residential neighbourhood, I suddenly realize. All subdued anglo-elegance. Complete with a sense of civic responsibility.

I admire, as I am surely meant to do.

Next sign? Not so friendly. But delivering an equally clear message.

Right. Got it.

The rare gate (locked, of course) that doesn’t have a dog-warning sign to go with its intercom system has this kind of sign instead:

Right. Got that, too.

It is a relief, some blocks later, to find myself in less-elevated — all senses of the word — terrain. Where a sidewalk offers me quite a different message.

I hop my way through it. Of course I do. Thank you, chalk-on-sidewalk! Good humour is restored.

And then, ooooo, another dog-related message. Except this time it is to the dogs, not about them.

As I get up from my photo-taking crouch, I see an approaching woman sink to her own crouch at a companion sign at the other end of the garden. I wait for her to read it. She gets up. We grin at each other. Nice.

I turn left at the playhouse at the corner (itself a kid-happy message) …

and think: “That’s it.”

I put away the camera, lengthen my stride.

And stop short for one more message.

‘Cause any time someone wants to love the whole world, I’m happy to help them spread the message.

More Quotes, Some Keys, a Ferry, & a Dragonfly

28 June 2017 – Isn’t it always the way? You’ve never heard of something, and then you do, and then it jumps on you from all sides.

I’d never heard of John Muir, Scottish-born poet & naturalist (1838-1914), until Sally sent me the quote that opened a recent (Art of Quote-Unquote) post. A couple of days later, I’m entering the VanDusen Botanical Garden with my friend Louise, and there, beautifully incised into the glass doorway, is another Muir quote: “When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world.”

(Checking it later online, I discover another I like a lot: “Of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt.” The dirt-path strategy for happiness?)

We’re not in this stunning botanical garden for doorway quotes. We have come to walk the grounds, to enjoy all the collections, all the “rooms,” from the serenely austere Stone Garden to the Meditation Garden, the Sino-Himalayan collections, the Elizabethan Maze and more.

And we do. Oh, we certainly do. But we also admire the works of art in the grounds.

Including a piano.

It’s not much of a functioning piano by now, just look at those keys. But with seagulls like that swooping around (the work of Ilya Viryachev), you don’t mind.

Louise explains that the city has had several years of placing pianos in public — a CityStudio project called “Keys to the Streets” — and I realize I have seen a few about.

With more to come!

The next day I’m walking again — and again in brilliant sunshine, take that soggy Toronto, these two cities seem to have swapped weather patterns. This time in a loop around False Creek. Frances & I head west along the south side, then north across the Burrard St. bridge, its elegant Art Deco lines signalling its 1930s construction.

I stop to admire the view, and pound a few more geographic factoids into my brain.

False Creek flows into English Bay, into Burrard Inlet, into the Strait of Georgia … That’s Bowen Island, beyond that Vancouver Island, beyond that the Pacific Ocean …

We head back east on the north side. At David Lam Park, we hop around the stepping stones that encircle Don Vaughan’s temple-like sculpture, “Marking High Tide and Waiting for Low Tide,” reading the inscription as we go.

Hop, hop …

Hop, hop …

It’s just one of numerous pieces of public art around False Creek, and I like it a lot.

Now for something else I like a lot: a trip on one of the cheerful little ferry boats that shuttle back & forth! I jump aboard at the Yaletown Dock, for a quick crossing to Spyglass Place, back on my side of the Creek.

Spyglass Place Dock is a whole art installation all by itself: comfy bear-chairs for contemplating the view, artwork underfoot and all around … and, look, a piano.

This one is working just fine, thank you, its keys highly responsive, the pianist enthusiastic, and the rest of us charmed.

I contemplate a dragonfly.

I remember another piano in my recent past — this one plain blue, but startling for all that.

It was attached to a bicycle, though nicely stationary at the time in Woodward’s Atrium, part of the Hard Rubber Orchestra‘s open rehearsal for its first summer-time “Spacious Music at the Atrium” concert.

The music was good, the acoustics terrific, I made note of future concert dates.

So, pianos firmly in mind, it’s no wonder I see another as I make my way back south on Cambie. This one is in a much less appealing environment — a shopping mall food court — but it’s also part of the City’s public pianos initiative.

And it is also being played. Where the toddler in Spyglass Place ran to, shall we say, personal random expression, this guy is definitely into stride.

I hum my way home.

Where, via email, I collect one more quote!

Cake-Quotable

Thank you, Phyllis.  She was out Dundas St. West, in Toronto’s Junction area, and came across this bakery sidewalk signboard.

All right, everybody. Eat up.

 

 

Eyes on Granville

18 June 2017 – I’m out for the South Granville Art Walk, who could resist, with balloons, hoop-la, wine & cheese & what-have-you up & down the gallery-laden stretch of Granville between W. 15th & W. 6th or so, where the street pretty well becomes the bridge over False Creek.

I walk across from Cambie, virtuously resisting the pull of the Tandem Bike Café enroute, and launch my walk — my Walk! — right at West 15th.

With eyes on Granville, courtesy of the city traffic signal box at the corner. (I think that’s what these boxes house. Anyway, many feature photo-wrap artwork, and I’m all in favour.)

My own eyes equally wide, I start prowling my way north toward the water. Most of the galleries are closer to the water, so I waft in & out of some home décor shops as I go, cruise through Indigo, find everything very classy but resistible … I don’t even reach for my camera until I’m halfway north.

And then it’s for a map.

But a darn classy map.

And, for a newbie like me, darn useful as well.

There I am, I say to myself: I live above the “u” in Vancouver, close to that first short inlet of water (False Creek). At the moment, I am above the “c,” also closing in on False Creek.

Near-ish to that map, just north of West Broadway, I visit Kardosh Projects, with an exhibition of two artists I hadn’t previously known but like a lot, especially the brooding landscapes by Edward Epp.

Then I head down an alley, not expecting much, but look! what a reward.

Very loopy indeed, it’s the back-door silliness of Brian Scott Fine Art, so that’s good fun.

Then it’s on north another block, left turn on West 6th, I visit one good-taste (& very jammed) gallery and then into the building’s central courtyard, because I want to find the pousette gallery, which I know is somewhere upstairs at rooftop level.

So I’m elevator-hunting, but I get waylaid by the building’s architecture. I don’t yet know it bears the sleek name of WSix, I just know I really like the sleek lines — all concrete, copper, steel & strong angles.

 

I admire a door. They’re all identical. They are wonderful.

I tear myself away, get in the elevator — and find I’m admiring the elevator wall.

I do visit the pousette gallery, and it’s worth the visit. It is. I just find I’m more taken by the building that houses it.

Back outside, now on the fourth floor, I pay attention to the exterior catwalk that gives each unit its own direct front door. Vancouver’s relatively benign climate makes this design feature practicable, and how attractive it is.

Especially when, on the top level, you see through to the Coast Range mountains!

Then I also see the staircase. Perfect! I’ll walk down.

It takes me past a watchful dog-in-the-window.

Which reminds me of a photo I took of another dog-in-the-window — one I saw days earlier, over on Oak St. near W 13th.

Are they not unnervingly alike? (Yes, yes, there are also differences, I grant you that.)

My Art Walk began with a traffic signal box; I’m happy to see it can end with one as well.

The official upper-case-W Walk now over, I lower-case-w walk myself south/east toward home.

With a latte stop in the Tandem Bike Café! You knew I would.

B-Words

14 June 2017 – We’ll start with two B-words.

Beer … and Bacteria.

Make that three B-words! Add Ben Franklin to the list. Who knew he’d get rude about water?

No, my friends — make that four. As in, deBunking false quotes.

According to the Beer PHXation blog, to say BF uttered those words is a bunch of … well … BS. (I know. We’re now up to five.) No primary sources for the quote, says the blog. Plus the little detail that “bacteria” was not introduced as a scientific term until 1838, and BF died in 1790. (Anyway, I will crossly add, all on my own: Benjamin Franklin was an educated man of his time, who knew his Latin. Who would therefore have known that “bacteria” was plural, not singular. Who would therefore have written — had he written it — “in water there are Bacteria.” So there.)

Do we care? No, I thought not. Shall we move on? Oh, let’s.

I am still busy exploring new terrain, and find myself on The Drive.

See? “The Drive.”

As in, Commercial Drive. As in, a whole great stretch of every type of shop & studio & hang-out, out the east end of town. I can find no explanation for that drama-mask-creature, but none is necessary, so all is well.

There is even a street festival going on, not that I knew it before I hopped busses to this end of town. Italian Day, it is — though I’m seeing as much Asian, South Asian, tourist, & white-kid-from-the-suburbs as Italian.

It is all extremely cheerful. Blocks & blocks of closed street, tents & kiosks filling the street, music & vendors & PA announcements, street sales & clowns.

And a whole line-up of Vespas. Well … it is Italian Day, after all!

I like the koi decal. This is Vancouver, after all!

I keep peering down alleys. A left-over twitch from Toronto, and there are still rewards, though not the same kind.

I like the colours, the way the barrier colours are picked up in the smear on the van and then in the laundry farther down the alley; the brightly painted wooden house; the whole peaceful at-home look of the place.

But … I wouldn’t say no to a hit of street art!

And then, bang, right on command, as I double back from the alley on E. 5th Av. to Commercial Drive …

The work of Milan Basic Art — “former film industry artist making street art” says his Instagram page. There are drama-mask references in the art, so I’m expecting this to be a studio or grassroots theatre of some kind, but no, it is the office of a medical doctor. There you go.

I stop in a café called Prado for a latte, sit in the window thinking for a moment about Phyllis, my dear Tuesday Walking Society co-member. For a good five years we have walked together on Tuesdays, stopping for a latte (me) & a decaf Americano (her) enroute. I am again walking on Tuesday, I have again stopped for a latte — but Phyllis is 3,364 km. away, back in Toronto.

And my phone rings. And it is Phyllis. So there we are once again, talking over a latte during a Tuesday walk…

Still warmed by her voice, I stare smiling out the plate glass window and then scrunch my face. Another mural, across the street? A cloud mural on that building opposite?

No, silly girl. It’s reflection.

But I like it. Even after I figure it out (which really does only take a nano-second, I am not terminally slow), I still like it, play with it as an art installation: cloud mural on the building, ghost tree in front of the building.

And then I fling myself back into the real outside, back into the whole happy mix: Belgian Fries advertised here, grilled asparagus at the Masi tent there, Ethiopian & Jamaican & French-Tunisian & Persian (“el mercado persa”) on all sides.

And Karl Marx.

One of the City’s information pillars has been appropriated! I wonder about that bullet-hole in the middle of Marx’s forehead. That’s not how he died, is it? And no, it’s not. I double-check later: a peaceful death, comparatively speaking, felled by pleurisy in London, age 64.

So I don’t know what that bit of poster-art-commentary is all about.

But who cares, when there are handmade popsicles on offer?

And — this is my final B-word, you knew I’d get back to my theme eventually — and Balloons.

Not to mention cozy apartments.

 

 

 

 

Smoochers & Strange Dogs

7 June 2017 – You’ll have to imagine the smoochers, but I’ll give you Smoochers Corner.  My gift to you, courtesy of a cheerful young man named Aaron, whom I met at the foot of the steps down from Jean Beaty Park to Burrard Inlet a couple of days ago.

Turns out he occasionally leads tours around the neighbourhood, here in Point Grey, and when he learns how much I love to walk & explore, he tells me about Smoochers Corner. Just down the road, he says, at the top of the Dunbar Steps.

He jumps this-way, that-way, to demonstrate what I’ll see.

And I do.

See? This-way for Him; that-way for Her; and smooch-smooch.

I giggle. And I remember the Vancouver Biennale Open Air Museum art installation I saw enroute, and giggle again.

This particular installation, Vancouver Novel by Brazilian artist João Loureiro, consists of a rotating cycle of 23 LED-light sentences. The sentence I happen to catch seems tailor-made for smoochers.

I’m on a roll, wandering daily around town, beginning to sniff out some haunts. Still with the wide eyes of the new-comer.

So I tilt my head in wonder as I emerge from a VAG (Vancouver Art Gallery) lecture yesterday evening, beguiled by the soft air & golden light of mid-evening. It’s not so much the buildings, which neatly frame Hornby Street, it’s the great plummeting arrow of sky-space in-between.

I play my positive-space/negative-space game, blinking my attention back & forth.

Less esoteric today, out revisiting the pathways here on the south side of False Creek. This green space was a haunt of mine while visiting town last winter, how much more agreeable in warm spring sunshine!

I’m in Hinge Park, I go hip-hop across the big stones to the little island just off-shore, I follow the path, I peer between the trees.

Tree art! Woodpecker Dead Tree art! No woodpeckers in sight, mind you, just the evidence they leave behind.

And then, farther east, I’m prowling public waterfront space in Olympic Village … and this time the birds are visible. Bird on bird.

I know that’s a pigeon up top. The big guy underneath? Let’s call him a sparrow.

A latte stop by the water, and I start heading inland. Up to West 1st Av. and Manitoba, where once again I admire one of the City’s attractive sewer lids. Except this one has a tiny companion.

I look closely at the mini-version: “Tread Lightly,” it says; “Ship Yard.” I’d like to know more. I am mildly, but pleasurably, frustrated. These things can be learned…

Right there, too: an art installation. No plaque that I can find, no artist ID, no explanation. But it looks to me like mounds of salt.

And I’m right, I must be right. The building, now a restaurant & bar, also bears its historic name, “Vancouver Salt Co. Ltd.” The little street next to the building is — of course — Salt St.

On up Manitoba, up to West 3rd. I glance casually eastward as I wait for the light to change.

Look!

Oh, if only the doors had been closed. Oh, never mind. It is quite wonderful. I don’t know why Greenworks Building Supply wanted street-art murals, but thank you, I am all in favour.

I remember Rolf’s dictum: “When you see something interesting in front of you, there will be something equally interesting right behind you.” I spin on my heel.

Right behind me is Eddie’s Hang-Up Display Ltd. I’ve been doing my little jig of street-art delight under the cool gaze of Eddie’s Ladies.

That belly tag reads, “Wigs sold separately.” (Just FYI.)

And I zig, and I zag, and in the course of events (after a long, tempting riffle through Mountain Equipment Co-op on West Broadway) I find myself climbing on up Columbia St., just north of West 10th.

I am admiring the fine old wooden homes, one obligingly with a heritage plaque. It explains that, in 1895, it was the Bloomfield Studio, home to Henry Bloomfield and two sons, the city’s foremost stained glass artisans — responsible, among other accomplishments, for the windows of the provincial Parliament Buildings in Victoria.

Coming close enough to read the plaque brings me close enough to read another tidy little sign. This one very much of our own day.

Well??? What? Three ears? Two tails? Amazing skill with a mouth organ? Armed with a sling-shot? Alas, he is nowhere in sight, and we’ll never know.

So we can each imagine our own favourite Strange Dog, and be happy.

 

 

 

All the Colours of a Very Grey Day

2 June 2017 – And to top it all off, we are Vancouver’s Point Grey neighbourhood, Louise & I. (West Point Grey, to be precise.) Louise is sussing out the area for some art classes she plans to offer; I am just plain sussing out Vancouver, all the happier to do so with a friend.

We jump off the bus at Sasamat & West 10th, and start walking. After a string of sunny days, we’re back to fitful grey, threats of rain. See if we care — we are booted & jacketed accordingly.

In & out of a few pretty shops (upscale neighbourhoods have pretty shops), admiring as we go, then into a café for something we not only admire, but want.

Coffee! We buy it, we drink it, we laugh at the cluster of signs. Especially this one …

Good.

Now, having followed steps 1 through 3, we are fully awake.

And ready to properly admire the vivid lavender fields outside this West-10th Av. home.

Extravagant street-corner displays are typical of the area, so are cottage-y homes.

We walk north on Trimble St., circle through Trimble Park, head back south toward West 10th again, which takes us past the West Point Grey Lawn Bowling Club …

a study in soft greens, except for the brilliant red of one gentleman’s jacket.

A red promptly echoed in the poppies of an adjacent street-corner display.

Echoed again, when we reach West 10th & tumble into Urban Yarns, one of the city’s destination wool shops.

Red, and every other colour!

We haven’t come in to buy wool. We are drawn by colour & texture. We pad softly about the shop, stroking alpaca here, merino there, silk …

We climb the stairs.

But finally go back out into the misty grey day.

Where yet more colour awaits us.

Even Louise, who knows her city and its Asian food offerings, is startled. DoDo Sushi, we agree, here we come! Your newest dish will be our lunch.

Along with miso soup, beakers of green tea, and a shared bowl of steamed edamame, that is.

It is all wonderful. We enjoy our lunch. Just as I enjoy my later peek into the kitchen …

though I do take that curtain to be telling me to Keep Out, and I obey.

We play jump-on / jump-off with the bus on our way back to the centre of town, bailing at Alma St. for a quick visit to Folk Art Interiors. It has some faux-folk art, but not much; most of the stock, crammed floor to ceiling, wall to wall, is the real thing.

An old record-player, for example, with the Eagles’ One of These Nights ready to spin.

And a beautifully worn old step-stool, exactly the right look & scale to display a pair of child-sized bright red shoes.

Then Louise & I take our adult-sized shoes back out to the bus stop, and head for home.

 

Chinatown-Plus-Plus

28 May 2017 – I’m toured around this bright, sunny weekend by a friend who loves to walk fairly slowly, look around carefully, take time to see, and perhaps take some thoughtful, judicious photos along the way. I am more indiscriminate, lolloping along like a puppy-dog, all big eyes & enthusiasm.

We both have a good time.

I’m in my city-as-art-installation mode: just look at all the components that, together, make up cityscape! Chinatown buildings as a study in colour blocking, for example:

A big punch of red, against the background cream. Colour blocks, and chunky architectural blocks as well.

The old Chinatown, I am told, is disappearing; here as elsewhere, gentrification is at the expense of pungent specificity. All the more reason to enjoy what is still here.

But no reason not to enjoy, as well, an endearing new-style shop sign.

The food markets are bustling, wide open to the street this sunny, warm day. Each one with its foodstuffs wide open as well — offering a whole world of textures, colours, odours.

We stop to stare at a particular example of a building style I’m seeing a lot, here in Chinatown. I’m privately calling it “tall-skinny” simply because of the shape, but that’s pure ignorance on my part. There is surely a proper name?

In a way, this is an unfair example: many of the tall-skinnies are beautifully maintained, or restored, this one is not typical. But its shabbiness is, to me, fascinating. The faded colours, the texture of the peeling surfaces — and the adjacent alley doubling as a hydro corridor, which is as Vancouver-distinctive as the building itself.

I tilt my head, study the top floor, the windows on the top floor, how each serves as a frame for a still-life within.

I’m now paying attention to windows, to the scenes they frame.

Farther along the same street, a woman leans out to water her window-ledge plants: counterpoint to the plants diagonally above, contrast to the nearly blank windows in cross-diagonal.

And again.

This time the wall cross-hatched with shadows, the window offering a composition worthy of Mondrian at his blocky-est.

Now we’re in Strathcona, on cottage-y residential streets. I see what my eye wants to call gingerbread, except it bears no resemblance to the Victorian gingerbread I know so well in Toronto’s Cabbagetown.

A kind of Arts & Crafts gingerbread, perhaps? Sort of? I like it.

I’m shown, and stupidly don’t photograph, a Vancouver Special — an example of a utilitarian, cookie-cutter style that spread through Vancouver in the 1960s, designed to minimize costs & maximize floor space. In atonement, I pass on to you two links (thank you, Rolf). One gives the history and human story; the other a more purely architectural study, but on a heritage site that presents it as one of the city’s chronology of housing styles.

I love all the exuberant colour on these wooden houses — wine-red (I always think of it as CPR Red), mustard yellow, paddy green, bright purple, bright blue. The colours pulse, the houses jump & dance.

Though maybe this isn’t the best example! It’s a cheerful bright green, all right, but you can hardly see it for all those flowering shrubs & trees. Nature just flinging herself around, what a hussy.

And if sometimes Nature gets flung into a couple of antique wringer-washing machines, and left to brighten the sidewalk … why not?

No lattes today; we stop for ice cream at The Wilder Snail corner store in Strathcona. Then we start looping back to our starting point, the City Centre SkyTrain station at Granville & West Georgia.

Our route takes us past the gloriously named …

Ovaltine Cafe.

I later read it has been in continuous operation since 1942; I nowhere read whether or not it serves Ovaltine.

Clearly, more research is required.

 

 

  • WALKING… & SEEING

    "Traveller, there is no path. Paths are made by walking" -- Antonio Machado (1875-1939)

    "The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes" -- Marcel Proust (1871-1922)

    "A city is a language, a repository of possibilities, and walking is the act of speaking that language, of selecting from those possibilities" -- Rebecca Solnit, "Wanderlust: A History of Walking"

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