Stares for Stairs

11 July 2020 — We’re in downtown Vancouver, Yaletown neighbourhood, and, yes, we are here to stare at stairs. (Oh, such an obvious pun — but sometimes, you just let yourself pick that low-lying fruit.)

We’re on the hunt for a BIA morale-boosting project, artists invited to let loose on the edges and stairways of some of the area’s street-side terraces (architectural remnants of previous industrial life).

But stairs aren’t all that’s worthy of a gawk or two.

We tilt-head, open-mouth our way through the parkette immediately behind the Skytrain station at Davie & Mainland.

I’ve seen an installation of overhead umbrellas here before — a rainbow of colours then, solid yellow now. Yellow for hope and remembrance, the signage tells us.

More yellow umbrellas, this time café patio adornments, up a block at Hamilton and Davie streets. With bright new mural-work below.

We are not impressed. We are righteously indignant.

Fine, love the defiant messsage of continued strength & presence: “We’re here.” But is it too much to ask for an apostrophe? Apparently, yes it is, and we grumble away to each other very happily. What-is-this-younger-generation-coming-to-I-ask-you?

Until we turn the corner, and burst out laughing. And blush.

We only saw half the message.

No apostrophe called for. “Wish you were here.”

See? Sometimes the grumbling old biddies are wrong.

Much cheered, we carry on along Hamilton Street.

Shark’s teeth don’t seem to me a very welcoming symbol — come visit, snap-munch — but yes, it is bold & handsome & owns that staircase.

Moving on, and aha, here we go! very welcoming indeed.

All hearts & loving bilingual messages.

I play with its angles, like the way railings, steps, wall & ground all dance with each other.

And then there’s Chameleon Long Dog.

Still giggling, we turn away.

Only to discover that Hamilton Street offers more than cafés and murals. Its boutiques also offer décor tips. Nay… rules.

There is Correct and there is Incorrect in this world, so pay attention.

We argue ambiably about that all the way to the Skytrain station.

 

 

Wisdom

4 July 2019 – While up on the North Shore, following the Spirit Trail, I briefly and slightly detoured to walk along the Wisdom Wall on the rear façade of Bodwell High School.

Bodwell is an international boarding school, and the Wall is indeed a wall …

with life-sized silhouettes and quotes from a suitably global array of wise people, ranging from Confucius to Terry Fox to Lord Byron, David Suzuki, and Chief Dan George.

And Socrates.

I hope wisdom also begins in appreciating the ridiculous! That’s not a dunce cap adorning Socrates’ head, and nobody has awarded him a white feather — those are reflections of a traffic cone and my T-shirt, respectively.

Gallery Lane

18 August 2017 – Not named on any City-issued map of Vancouver, but right there on the Muralfest map: “Gallery Lane.” I’m back, the day after the big party, to explore what I missed the first time around. Judging by all the bright red dots on the map, I missed a whole lot, up and down the Lane.

So in I slide, dropping north from East Broadway into the alley between Quebec Street & Main. Right away I love it, it’s all grungy and eye-popping at the same time. A poster for the Mural Festival, its backdrop a tired old fire escape on the corner building…

Two more steps into the alley, and paff! A dumpster. A dumpster as set upon by Oksana Gaidasheva and Emily Gray, leaping with colour and life.

I practically fall into that corner owl, as mesmerized as any unlucky field mouse by those glaring eyes.

This starts well! I am happy.

On down the alley I go, prowling, pausing, cocking a head & a hip, again  & again.

Side trip just north of East 8th, to the Wrkless face at the end of a short cul-de-sac.

Look how it’s framed! Every element just right, stairs & security lights & wheelies & litter & windows & walls. The perfect streetscape art installation.

And now, just for the next few images, I want you to flip between this post and its predecessor, Main-ly Murals. ‘Cause we’re now in the East 7th & Main parking lot — bounded on the west by Gallery Lane — where, on Saturday, I showed you all those parking slots being turned into works of art.

Yes, cars are back in the lot, but the art still dances.

And yes, the women I photographed lifting the stencil off their car-slot left behind something terrific.

And yes! It turns out those kids creating the text mural knew all about apostrophes after all.

I fussed away, in the previous post, at their initial “Its” instead of “It’s.”

Well.

I am happy to show the world that I misjudged them.

A short conversation with a woman who carefully parks in a non-decorated slot & wields her own camera, and then on I go, north again in Gallery Lane.

I stand at East 4th, look back south, and have to stretch wide my eyes.

Behind the parking lot on the right, Andy Dixon’s big mural. Wrapped all around the building on the left, mural work by a team: Bronwyn Schuster, Lani Imre, Tia Rambaran, Amanda Smart.

One of the things I like best is that all this art becomes part of the working city. The alley is purely functional: vehicles block your view, mural segments painted across doorways disappear every time a truck has to drive into the garage.

And, all around, City workers are collecting trash, and pruning trees — here at the Main St. corner of that blue mural-wrapped building shown above.

I spin on my heel, head north again, bounded on my left by Jane Cheng’s blue-&-white fence work.

Across East 3rd, and I’m in Bunny & Bear territory.Thank you Carson Ting.

Also — did you notice? — another ripped T-shirt hanging on a utility pole.

I’ve noticed 4 or 5 by now, so it wasn’t the one-off that I thought on Saturday when I saw, literally, only one.

And the T-shirts are not all pure white, the art limited to careful rips & tears.

Which reminds me: I am hungry.

I head home.

  • 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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