More Yogurt?

16 March 2019 – Oh, delete that question mark. There is no question about it: this is definitely a case of more yogurt.

If you are now shouting at your device, “Oh, silly woman! That is not yogurt! That’s a trio of labyrinths!”  … that is because you did not read, or do not remember, my post of 21 January.

In it, I introduced you to labyrinth artist Himy Syed, who is heart, soul & artist of the Toronto + Vancouver City of Labyrinths project. When we met as he created a new labyrinth in the Olympic Village plaza, he spelled his first name for me with four words instead of four letters: “Hey, it’s my yogurt.”

These bold designs on the south shore of False Creek just east of Granville Island are surely his work as well.

I’m drawn to the orange one.

I walk it, slowly, carefully, and I thank Himy as I walk.

Bring on the yogurt!

 

Loop to Labyrinth

27 January 2019 – “Yes,” I said to myself, “a loop. Down to the very end-curve of False Creek, west along the north side of the Creek to the Cambie Street bridge, over the bridge, back east on the south side of the Creek, and home.”

You are not where it says you are. You are with me — in the magic of the historic present tense — in the end-curve next to World of Science (aka “The Golf Ball,” thank you Frances).

Looking west down the Creek, with the Cambie bridge arching one side to the other.

I head past the reeds and rushes in the parkland next to World of Science, hear the Redwing Blackbirds and read the warning, but without alarm.

None swoop down. Children swoop, on the other hand, exuberant with the park’s activity stations, their parents laughing and trotting along beside them.

I round the Creek’s north-east curve, then pass & briefly cut through the new Concord Community Park.

It is reminiscent — in its bright colours, high design and high functionality — of the new breed of urban parks I’d come to love in Toronto as well. Urbane, yet at one with nature. The perfect city combination.

The seawall scoops me by BC Place Stadium and the adjacent Casino, its metallic tawny walls the perfect foil for sunrise, sunset and — at the moment — dark reflections of its angular neighbours.

I’m barely past the canine off-leash area in Coopers’ Park when I come to its logical conclusion — dog benches!

First I see, and start laughing at, the dog faces. Only later do I notice the water bowl beneath each muzzle.

Up the long switch-back ramp onto the Cambie bridge. Even here, carefully distinct lanes for pedestrians and for bicycles. (The baby carriage may be on wheels, but mum wisely opts for the pedestrian lane.)

Approaching the south side of the Creek, I look east to the rest of my loop …

and then, just before starting down the spiral pedestrian staircase, I look west.

The Granville Street bridge is out there somewhere, but here in the foreground is Spyglass Dock, “my” dock it used to be, and still my favourite. Oh, how those colours punch through the day’s flat light.

And down the spiral ramp.

More colour punch on the bridge pillar, this time with an environmental message. The blue bands of “A False Creek” rise 5 metres above sea level, showing us mid-point of the predicted 4-6 metre rise we can expect through melting ice caps.

Eastward-ho, with great, grating swirls of crows on a line-up of trees between the bridge and Hinge Park. I remember seeing them here before, it must be a favourite roost.

Past the noisy crows, on to the peace of public lounge chairs and a cyclist peacefully lounging, bike propped to one side, tuque’d head barely visible, and an Aquabus chugging by in the Creek.

The City has tucked a small artificial island into the Creek just opposite Hinge Park, engineered to mimic nature’s own wisdom and provide additional rich habitat for wildlife. It creates a side-channel in the Creek, with the island to one side and the seawall path to the other.

After Hinge Park comes Olympic Village, with its shops, condos and big open square. I’m already anticipating the latte I will order in one of the cafés.

I am not anticipating the city’s latest labyrinth!

Oh yes, we are becoming a city of labyrinths, and look how engaged we are with this one before it is even complete.

See? A woman to the right guides her child along a path; mid-distance on the left, Turquoise Jacket cantilevers herself along another path, with Red Jacket not far behind.

And farther back — straight back from the “a” in the foreground word “Vancouver,” yes, that crouched dark figure — the artist.

Meet Himy (as in, he tells me, “Hey, It’s My Yogurt”) Syed, heart & soul & artist of the Toronto + Vancouver City of Labyrinths project.

I have to wait my turn to speak with him: one after another, passers-by stop to ask about his work, and thank him for it. I discover he’s another Toronto expat, so we swap a few Rob Ford horror stories before chattering about street art and artists in both cities.

Then he returns to his chalk, and I go find my latte.

Where I find myself still smiling about Himy’s project, and all the joy he creates for the rest of us.

 

How-Not-To

7 July 2018 – Sometimes negative teaches more than positive.

For example, if you wish to convince people that your City hates art …

do not — do NOT — post your message on the edge of Robson Square, with the Vancouver Art Gallery to one side, bracketed by two major sculptures (Spring, Alan Chung Hung; Bird of Spring, Abraham Etungat), and backed by a brand new, sassy labyrinth on the pavement immediately behind.

I laugh at the message, and go enjoy the labyrinth.

Which is completely delightful.

Suddenly I know why I’ve been seeing more labyrinths about the city lately — in fact, showed one of them to you in my recent Jalan-Jalan post. We’re one half of the on-going Toronto & Vancouver City of Labyrinths project, its objective being to “create public labyrinths within walking distance of every Torontonian & Vancouverite.”

 

The City hates art? Looks like love to me.

 

Into the Labyrinth

11 July 2016 – I attend a glorious noon-hour Bach recital in the Church of the Holy Trinity, and then sit for a while by the Toronto Public Labyrinth in tiny, peaceful Trinity Square Park next to the church.

raised plaque, Toronto Public Labyrinth, Trinity Square Park

The metal plaque is battered, but striking.

And tactile. You can trace the path with your finger tips — and also, if you have the skill, read the braille lettering at the top.

The labyrinth itself, like this plaque, is a bit weary; its colours faded though still decipherable.

 

Toronto Public Labyrinth

I stroke the raised path, enjoy the touch, but must then turn to a conventional sign for more information.

This, I learn, is a labyrinth (one clear path), not a maze (one path, many dead ends). Labyrinths go back some 3,000 years; this one is based on the 11-circuit labyrinth constructed at Chartres Cathedral in France in the 13th century. Many are located near water, and this one honours the tradition: it is located near the now-buried Taddle Creek.

I’ve sat here before, seen three or four people at a time walking the path.

Today, a single young man. He carefully, calmly makes his way, ear-buds in his ears & eyes on the phone to which they are attached. Is he following some labyrinth app? Listening to a Hildegard von Bingen composition? I wonder, but of course don’t ask.

man walking the Toronto Public Labyrinth

The conventional sign tells us how to walk a labyrinth:

  • Enter with a question or intention
  • Follow the path from the entrance to the centre
  • Walk at a comfortable pace
  • Pass or yield to others on the path as necessary
  • Stay in the centre as long as you wish
  • Retrace the path back to the entrance

part o the labyrinth path, to centre

Later, I click on the Labyrinth Community Network website, and learn — among other things — that there are hundreds of labyrinths in Ontario alone. I am charmed by this discovery. And by the tools for locating any of them.

Later still, a book title suddenly pops to mind and, yes, I am right: Larry’s Party, the 1997 novel by Carol Shields, is about an ordinary man made extraordinary by his ability to create labyrinths.

Read the book. Go walk a labyrinth.

 

 

 

 

 

  • WALKING… & SEEING

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

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