18 November 2024 – This weekend — for the 28th year — was the annual Eastside Culture Crawl. I take advantage of Sunday’s better weather (merely iffy, as opposed to torrential) to join in.

I’ll visit studios like this one…

but mostly, as seems to be my personal Crawl tradition, I’ll just go for a big old walk. And visit some studios along the way.

When I cross 2nd Avenue, northbound on Scotia Street…

flaming beech trees welcome me to official Crawl territory: it runs from the waterfront farther north to right here, 2nd Avenue. (And, east-west, from Victoria Drive to Columbia Street.)

Also part of my personal tradition: my first visit is always to the bustling Arts Factory on Industrial Avenue, but before that — just to get in the mood — I loop my way through the False Creek Flats, taking in their evolving mix of new facilities and old warehouses as I go.

Streets in here have helpful names. Western Street runs up/down the Flats’ western boundary; Station Street to the east runs to the train station; and they are connected, you’ve guessed it, by Southern, Central and Northern streets, in the appropriate geographic order. North of Northern lies Terminal, and beyond that, Industrial.

I pass one of my all-time favourite rusty warehouses at the corner of Southern and Western, now with a gleaming new high-ish rise in the background…

but I’m even more taken by this tear-drop puddle reflecting the warehouse back at me, as I round the corner to head north on Western.

A huge stump marks the corner of Western and Northern. The building looks more derelict every year, yet it is still in operation, as its grumpy shipping-receiving notice makes clear.

After my visit to the Arts Factory, I double back west to Main Street. This makes no logistical sense at all!

It’s the most perversely roundabout way possible to get to Gore Avenue, which houses the three studios I’ve decided to visit this year — but, hey, I’m out for a walk, right? The rounder-about it gets, the better.

And I’m glad for my few blocks on Main. They take me past something that may look bleak, but deserves respect.

Yes, it’s behind chain-link fence and yes, it is November-dreary. But it is also a seasonal community garden, here at the corner of Milross, and it bears our local Yarn Bomber’s tribute of a crochet heart — recognition of the resilience of people doing what they can, in a tough context.

Back east along Prior, heading for the end of the block where I will turn north on Gore. I plan to scoot right along, but I’m stopped by this Mexican cervecería, just past Hogan’s Alley.

A moment for a giggle, and then eastward-ho to the corner of Gore Avenue, with the venerable Hunnybee Bruncheonette [sic] on the left and equally venerable Strathcona homes on the right.

I’ve walked along Gore on other occasions, but it’s always been the ground-level shops that caught my attention — I’ve never thought who might be doing what, higher up in these old buildings. Today, I start to find out.

First target: Godzilla Studios, where one workshop — Street & Saddle — will be open to visitors. Once inside, once upstairs, I’m distracted en route by the instructions I see through an open washroom door over the waste paper bin.

Politeness seems to work! The bin is full to the brim, but the floor is clean.

On down the hall to Street & Saddle, a warm, welcoming and very impressive workshop of cheerful people and good clothing. Good business practices, too, as I learn from this sign on a counter top:

Isn’t that the best? Each year, their little shop keeps a whole pony’s-weight of fabric out of landfill.

Back down the stairs, out the door, on up the street to the Pot Spot Studio.

A word about stairs. Stairs literally come with art-crawl territory, since studios are usually located in the higher reaches of their respective buildings. Savvy artists, like these Pot Spot folk, make sure you know which stairs to climb…

and then give you a bonus.

Turn the corner to climb those red-arrowed stairs…

and a serpent leads the way.

As the potter at this top level studio wraps some purchases for other visitors, I hear a bit of his backstory: from his Russian homeland, to art school in Jerusalem, to — one year ago — Vancouver. I think of the losses, the struggles, the terrible choices that must be locked up in that chronology, and tell him I wish him well in his new life. His eyes soften, he nods acknowledgment.

North again on Gore, on to the eponymous Gore Studio, can’t miss it, just follow the sign for Kim Hung Noodles. (It’s the doorway I teased you with, at the start of this post.)

In, and up.

Again up.

And the invitation to go on up yet again. Again.

I’m not sure what that is! A multi-coloured toilet roll? An aerosol paint can? Doesn’t matter; It’s of a piece with the fantasy-land all around.

I find myself taking photos for some enchanted visitors who are struggling with their selfie technique, then do my own tour of the wonders, and then leave. Back down all those stairs, back out onto Gore Avenue.

With a last glance at that impressive building, noodle ghosts and all…

I walk past the Himalayan restaurant next door…

past the gloriously pungent Chinese market spilling out over the sidewalk…

and finally take myself back out to Main Street, and a bus ride home.