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[PHOTO] "Tembo, Mother of Elephants"
Dec. 10th, 2016 09:37 am
Derrick Stephan Hudson's 2002 statue "Tembo, Mother of Elephants" stands in the middle of CIBC's Commerce Court complex.
On the weekend, I took a photo of the statue of Alexander Wood that lies on the northwest corner of Church and Maitland.
I remembered that I had taken a photo of the statue in 2014.
In October 2012, during Nuit Blanche, I took some night-time photos of the statue. Below is one of the photos, and what I wrote at the time.
I remembered that I had taken a photo of the statue in 2014.
In October 2012, during Nuit Blanche, I took some night-time photos of the statue. Below is one of the photos, and what I wrote at the time.
On the night of Nuit Blanche, I went to the northwestern corner of Church and Alexander--just two blocks south of the fabled intersection of Church and Wellesley--to take photos of sculptor Del Newbigging's statue of Scottish-born merchant Alexander Wood, unveiled in 2005. Located next to the compass painted on the sidewalk at the same corner, Newbigging's statue of Wood has become something of a community landmark, quite literally a touchstone--apparently some locals rub the statue for good luck before dates.
In August, I made a daytrip to east-end Scarborough, I went to the Guild Inn. This park, built around an abandoned hotel, is of some renown as host of a sculpture garden collecting rescued building facades and ruins.
In 2009, a statue of Canada's first prime minister, John A. MacDonald, was erected in Charlottetown at a cost of 80 thousand dollars, sitting on a bench at the western end of Victoria Row on Queen Street. Spacing Atlantic suggested in 2009 that there was some controversy over the statue, as much over the American nationality of sculptor Michael Halterman as of the cost, but it has remained, a recent addition to Canada's MacDonald's statuary collection.
In the shadow of Charlottetown's St. Dunstan's Basilica on Great George Street stands a statue of Angus Bernard MacEachern, the Scottish immigrant to early British Prince Edward Island who brought Roman Catholicism to the territory.
Of note is the multilingualism of the plaque explaining MacEachern's life and works, in English, French, Gaelic and Mi'kmaq.
St. Dunstan's stands above it all.
Of note is the multilingualism of the plaque explaining MacEachern's life and works, in English, French, Gaelic and Mi'kmaq.
St. Dunstan's stands above it all.
Sculptor Nathan Scott's statue commemorating two Fathers of Confederation named John Hamilton Gray, one a Prince Edward Islander and the other a New Brunswicker stands squarely in the middle of Great George Street. What did the two men, namesakes of each other, talk about in 1864?
When I went to New York City in June 2012 for my cousin's wedding, I opted not to go to the World Trade Center site. We've all seen the images before: did I really want to, never mind need to, see them again? Instead, I walked down to the nearby Zuccotti Park and photographed this statue.
https://abitmoredetail.wordpress.com/2012/06/15/new-york-city-j-seward-johnson-double-check-world-trade-center-public-art-statues-parks/
"Double Check" by John Seward Johnson II--J. Seward Johnson on the commemorative plaque next to the statue--is a life-size figure in bronze cast in 1982 of a businessman preparing for the workday, a piece of public art that had gained some fame after the World Trade Center attacks for its fortuitous survival in the park wrecked by the towers' collapse. Stuart Miller's 2004 New York Times piece recounted that story.
The blog Daytonian in Manhattan, meanwhile, took the statue's story to the present day. (Key to this is the fact that, unbeknownst to me, the park where "Double Check" is located is the Zuccotti Park made famous by the Occupy movement.)
Five years later, I still like "Double Check". Even the datedness of the contents of man's briefcase--vintage 1980s tape cassette recorder to the left, oversized calculator to the right, even what seemed to be a package of cigarettes--endears to me. It feels like a perfectly quotidian state, a monument to the everyday, a reminder that despite everything the important can endure. Events like September 11th, or like the Air India Flight 182 bombing I mentioned this afternoon, happen. They need to be dealt with, somehow. They need to be transcended, somehow.
Most of these words, and these images, come from a post I made five years ago. I wished that these five years would see a progress back towards some sort of stability, some new equilibrium, some new quotidian. Alas.
https://abitmoredetail.wordpress.com/2012/06/15/new-york-city-j-seward-johnson-double-check-world-trade-center-public-art-statues-parks/
"Double Check" by John Seward Johnson II--J. Seward Johnson on the commemorative plaque next to the statue--is a life-size figure in bronze cast in 1982 of a businessman preparing for the workday, a piece of public art that had gained some fame after the World Trade Center attacks for its fortuitous survival in the park wrecked by the towers' collapse. Stuart Miller's 2004 New York Times piece recounted that story.
On Sept. 11, 2001, with everything in ruins, one figure remained in Liberty Park across the street from the World Trade Center. He was sitting hunched over, staring in his briefcase, a businessman who seemed to be in shock and despair. Rescue workers, it was reported, approached him in the chaos to offer assistance, only to discover that he was not a man at all, but a sculpture.
The sculpture, created by J. Seward Johnson Jr. and placed downtown in 1982, was titled ''Double Check.'' It was named for what it depicted: a businessman making final preparations before heading into a nearby office building. Before 9/11, the sculpture was simply part of the downtown landscape. Afterward, it became an icon, as newspaper and magazine photos showed it covered in ash and, later, by flowers, notes and candles left there by mourners and rescue workers. ''Double Check'' was a memorial to all those who perished. It was also a fitting metaphor for the city: though the sculpture had been knocked loose from its moorings, it had endured.
After the attacks, ''Double Check'' was stored behind a fence in Liberty Park. When plans for its future were not forthcoming, Mr. Johnson, who owns the sculpture and had lent it to Merrill Lynch for display in Liberty Park, took the work back to his studio. There he bronzed the commemorative objects left on the sculpture, adding them to the figure permanently. And there ''Double Check'' has stayed -- largely forgotten, overlooked in the creation of a large-scale memorial design for the World Trade Center site.
The blog Daytonian in Manhattan, meanwhile, took the statue's story to the present day. (Key to this is the fact that, unbeknownst to me, the park where "Double Check" is located is the Zuccotti Park made famous by the Occupy movement.)
The original statue was refurbished by Johnson. He left the damages caused by crashing debris of the towers as a permanent reminder to the world of the holocaust of that morning in September. It was returned to Liberty Plaza Park. The businessman sits on a granite bench facing the site of the Towers.
[. . .]
The park took on a new personality about five years later when it became base for the Occupy Wall Street protestors. In their fervor to denounce anything remotely capitalist, they stuffed trash in the sculpture’s briefcase, tied a mask around his face and a bandana on his head. The statue that had become a memorial to the deaths of 3,000 innocent lives became a symbol of decadence to the protestors.
Their misled zeal was widely condemned by shocked and offended New Yorkers.
The garbage in the bronze briefcase has been removed and “Double Check” has regained his dignity. The statue that was intended to be a passing comment on everyday life along Wall Street instead became a poignant symbol of survival and a tribute to the common working man.
Five years later, I still like "Double Check". Even the datedness of the contents of man's briefcase--vintage 1980s tape cassette recorder to the left, oversized calculator to the right, even what seemed to be a package of cigarettes--endears to me. It feels like a perfectly quotidian state, a monument to the everyday, a reminder that despite everything the important can endure. Events like September 11th, or like the Air India Flight 182 bombing I mentioned this afternoon, happen. They need to be dealt with, somehow. They need to be transcended, somehow.
Most of these words, and these images, come from a post I made five years ago. I wished that these five years would see a progress back towards some sort of stability, some new equilibrium, some new quotidian. Alas.
Statuary and sculpture, often of Indonesian or Southeast Asian origins, is everywhere on the grounds.
I went to Nuit Rose last night, for the third year running, and once again I enjoyed myself. There were fun things in Church and Wellesley, and fun things on West Queen West. One thing that I liked in the first region were Michel Dumont's cellophane statues They Come Out at Night, a revisiting of the streets of queer Toronto circa 1986 and their people.
(More will come.)
[BLOG] Some Tuesday links
Apr. 5th, 2016 02:10 pm- Anthropology.net reports on a study suggesting that ritual human sacrifice paved the way for complex societies.
- Beyond the Beyond's Bruce Sterling shares an essay skeptical about the idea of a sharing economy.
- D-Brief and The Dragon's Tales reports on a study of some South American mummies suggesting that the vast majority of populations in the pre-Columbian Americas did not survive the conquest.
- The Dragon's Gaze links to a paper examining conditions on 55 Cancri e.
- The Everyday Sociology Blog considers how access to abortion can be limited by simply making it difficult to access.
- Marginal Revolution wonders how bad the effects of the upcoming shutdown of the D.C. Metro will be.
- Noel Maurer continues to look at the prospects of a Venezuelan default, looking at oil exports.
- Spacing Toronto explores the history of the Toronto Sculpture Garden.
- Torontoist explains inclusionary zoning to its readers.
Torontoist's Jamie Bradburn looks at the various places and monuments built in Toronto to commemorate the centennial of Confederation in 1867. There is much in this article, including photos.
From neighbourhood tree plantings to the international spectacle of Expo 67, Canada proudly celebrated its centennial. The stylized maple leaf logo graced everything from historical sites to reservoirs. Cities and towns applied for governments grants to spruce up parks, restore historical sites, and build attractions to last long after the centennial spirit faded.
Across Toronto, many legacies remain of, as Pierre Berton’s book on 1967 termed it, “the last good year.” There are the community centres and parks in the pre-amalgamation suburbs with “centennial” in their name. Celebratory murals lining school walls. Caribana and its successors celebrating Caribbean culture each year.
Many of these projects received funding from programs overseen by a federal commission, whose work sometimes felt like an Expo footnote. “They felt like poor cousins,” British author Peter Ackroyd observed. “Expo was so big, so appealing, so clearly headed for success that it discouraged those who were plodding away on the less focused, something-for-everyone program of the Commission.”
As is our habit, Toronto wanted spectacular major centennial projects. As is also our habit, they were mired in bureaucratic squabbles involving penny-pinching city councillors, politicians and pundits who swore delays embarrassed us in front of the rest of the country, and bad luck.
Discussions over marking the centennial began in earnest in September 1962 when the Toronto Planning Board proposed a $25 million cultural complex. With financial pruning, this evolved into a $9 million centennial program focused on the St. Lawrence Centre for the Arts, which included a repertory theatre, arts and culture facilities along Front Street, and a renovation of the decaying St. Lawrence Hall. Proponents also tossed in an expansion of the Art Gallery of Toronto (now the AGO) and refreshing Massey Hall. Mayor Phil Givens supported the project wholeheartedly—during his re-election campaign in 1964, he said “I have never been so sincerely convinced in my life that something is right.”
The statue of Dr. Sun Yat-sen that stands in Toronto's Riverdale Park East, overlooking the Don Valley, was framed beautifully by autumn. As noted by the Toronto Public Library blog in 2010, this statue was completed by local sculptor Joe Rosenthal in 1985, two years after winning a competition to erect a statue of the founder of the Republic of China. "This monument shows Dr. Sun Yat-sen holding a book. The book is his famous ideology "The Three Principles of the People". It talks about nationalism, democracy and socialism."
In 2009, I took the below photo of the Old City Hall Cenotaph, sharing it on A Bit More Detail.
Today, Jamie Bradburn had a feature at Torontoist noting how the memorial to the dead of the First World War came to be.
Today, Jamie Bradburn had a feature at Torontoist noting how the memorial to the dead of the First World War came to be.
When a city council special committee contemplated permanent sites for a monument in 1924, its members felt that erecting it in front of Old City Hall would render it inconspicuous due to space limitations and the height of surrounding buildings. While they preferred replacing an old bandstand in Queen’s Park, veterans felt it should remain at Old City Hall, where annual ceremonies had been held since 1920.
A design competition attracted 50 entrants. The $2,500 prize went to architects/First World War veterans William Ferguson and Thomas Canfield Pomphrey (the latter would work on the R.C. Harris Water Treatment Plant). The cornerstone of the granite cenotaph was laid with a silver trowel by Field Marshal Earl Haig on July 24, 1925. As the unveiling neared, city council ordered a change to the front wording from “To those who served” to a phrase specifically geared to those who fell in battle, “To our glorious dead.”
When city officials arrived at the cenotaph at 6 a.m. on November 11, 1925, they found two memorial wreaths had been left overnight: an anonymous assembly of chrysanthemums and one in memory of Private William Bird from his children. During the ceremony, only wreaths presented by Haig (who, unable to attend, drafted Byng as his stand-in) and the city were allowed to rest on the monument. Dozens of others, representing everything from orphanages to Belgian soldiers in town for the Royal Winter Fair, were banked around Old City Hall’s steps.
“It is true that there is nothing we can do which will add to the honour in which their memory is held,” Mayor Thomas Foster observed during his speech. “But in performing the ceremony arranged for this occasion we follow immemorial usage, and we inaugurate a memorial to the lasting honour of the men of this city who left their homes and the pursuits of peace and gave up their lives for their country.”
At The Balkanist, one Susanna Bitters has a marvelous photo essay examining the unusual but striking monuments to the Second World War built in Yugoslavia.
Remarkable, essays and photos (the author's own) both.
In the Internet age, Partisan monuments, or spomenik, have become as scattered across websites as they have across the Balkans. The presentation of these “space age” marvels depict only their futuresque and crumbling qualities. The bloody memento mori of their origins have become omitted, if they were even known in the first place. The spomenik have effectively receded from the landscape as markers of the Partisan socialist struggle, only to emerge again as beacons of a Brutalist, overreaching, and unrealized future.
At the end of WWII, thousands of spomenik were erected. A majority of them were situated on battle sites, creating a consciously constructed constellation of Partisan struggles across the landscape. They remain scattered across the region, some as simple as a plaque with the names of those killed. You can find them still, tucked onto hilltops and occasionally marked from the road by brown government signs. The early sculptures were representative and, quite frankly, exceedingly dull, telling a careful story in stone and iron. They showed the pores of a postwar world. The subject matter was severe, the construct depressing.
Metal men seemed to sag and fray under the sheer weight of time and death and loss. But when Tito turned from Stalin and cast his gaze on the west, so did the Yugoslavian spomenik. Within the length of the Informbiro Period began the rise of what was later termed “socialist modernism,” in which the horrors of war became an abstraction. The long, laconic, and notionally weary faces looming above the elevated platform at Tjentište, discernible only to the practiced eye. The rapidly shifting sun when ensconced at Kozara, vacillating wildly from dark to light as if to depict the mercurial nature of humanity. The spomenik began to depict not war and conflict, but the struggle for self-determination and the optimistic energy therein.
Remarkable, essays and photos (the author's own) both.
I posted a few days ago a picture of the maneki neko I bought for $C 6.99 at Honest Ed's, but I thought this deserved a post of its own, here and today.
Can anyone tell me what the Chinese script on the packaging means?
MacLean's hosts the Canadian Press article looking at the ongoing controversy over the Mother Canada veterans' memorial proposed for Cape Breton. The history wars continue.
Rhadie Murphy has spent her life on the rugged coastline that snakes along Cape Breton’s northern flank, its pink granite rocks stretching out near her home in the heart of Ingonish.
The 72-year-old is unreserved in her pride and praise of the small community on the eastern edge of the Cape Breton Highlands National Park, calling that piece of the Cabot Trail “the most beautiful place in the world.”
So Murphy and her large family were left shaking their heads in bewilderment when their tranquil hometown took centre stage in a fractious debate over Mother Canada, the towering war monument that could adorn their shoreline.
[. . .]
The 24-metre statue depicts a doleful woman with her arms outstretched toward Europe and the Canada Bereft monument at Vimy in France. The draped figure, meant to embrace soldiers who never returned from distant conflicts, is the brainchild of Toronto businessman Tony Trigiano who was struck by the number of young Canadians buried in a European cemetery he visited.
It has attracted the support of the federal government and Canadian luminaries, including a former prime minister, business heavyweights, prominent journalists and the president of the Calgary Flames.
But the ambitious project has cleaved opinion across the country, with many saying it has no business in a national park and that it cheapens the memory of the war dead who are already commemorated at hundreds of less audacious sites.
