Toronto Kills Me, Summer 2017
Updated July 5, 2017. (Sorry to say I haven’t been taking as many pictures this trip. I’ve got a bum leg from travel (Mike thinks it’s shin splints; Harry believes it’s a blood clot) and no health insurance in Canada, so I’m being overly cautious and letting things heal up before my next adventure, a week in Iceland. As a consequence, however, this travel photo essay feels a little lighter than past editions. Sorry about that, eh.)
Toronto often gets knocked for being an ersatz city, lacking any real sense of place: That “There is no there there,” as Gertrude Stein might say. In this photo essay from a three-week trip to T.O. in the summer of 2017 I go looking for Condotoronto’s genius loci — its sense of place — and find it among the historic brick buildings in the shadow of all those glass and steel towers…
July 1, 2017: Happy 150th Birthday, eh!
I always tell people that if I move anywhere it would be Toronto.
— Kendrick Lamar
I found that through my life, living in the city of Toronto, I look above the Pizza Pizza sign, and I look above the other signs and window dressing, and I see evidence of a city that no longer exists in the keystones and the decorations that line the tops of buildings. That presence of the old city has always moved me.
- Michael Redhill
It’s easy for me to care about Toronto, because Toronto is a community that cares about itself. It represents the world. It talks to itself, and because it does, it figures out that there must be a music garden as part of its existence.