Sherbrooke Near Decarie

Reading the Hong Kong Signscape

Here in North America, the past three decades have witnessed increasing control and restrictions over commercial signs. To get a sense of how things used to be, you could look at a photo of pretty much any city in the 1940s and 50s and you’ll see a cornucopia of signs competing with each other for attention. Or you could go to Hong Kong. There, on just about every commercial street, hundreds of signs advertising local shops jostle for the most eye-catching position. Hong Kong is unique even among Asian cities, largely because many of its signs extend horizontally over the street. In many older neighbourhoods, the signscape is so intense that it can hard to see the sky.

Apparently, Hong Kong’s government is keen on clearing out many of these signs, but for the time being, most streets remain as cluttered as ever. The amount of written information conveyed on a single block is astounding; if you were to read every sign during a 20-minute walk, you’d probably be taking in enough Chinese characters and English words to fill a small book.

Consider the above scene, found on Parkes Street in Yau Ma Tei, an old neighbourhood on the Kowloon peninsula. On the top left, the red-on-blue neon sign advertises a seafood restaurant; smaller characters attached below, like an afterthought, mention that it is open 24 hours. To the left, a backlit white sign with red and green characters announces a “neighbourhood-style” restaurant serving Chiuchow cuisine. Right below, a bilingual turquoise sign reads, “Pakistan Halal Food.” A bit further down the street, the sign with yellow characters on a red background is for an arcade; the vertical yellow-on-blue neon sign behind it is for a mahjong parlour. In the distance, a backlit white-on-red sign advertises a congee restaurant.

On the right you’ll see a few civic messages. Banners affixed to the street’s lampposts tell passersby to “Support building a cleaner society” by not littering or spitting. The function of the white tile building on the right is announced bilingually: “Parkes Street Refuse Collection Centre.”

Queen Street Evening

Queen Street West between Spadina and Bathurst

Norman Bethune Square

Norman Bethune Square, a tiny triangle wedged between the intersection of Guy St. and de Maisonneuve Blvd., is Montreal’s shittiest square. I mean that literally: it quite possibly has more pigeon shit per square inch than any other public space in the whole of Greater Montreal. I have no idea why pigeons like this place so much, but it’s almost like an homage to Trafalgar Square, filled as it is with twitchy flocks of little grey birds.

This small square also has the distinction of being the only square in Montreal named after a Communist. Born in 1890 and raised in small town Ontario, Norman Bethune moved to Montreal to join the faculty of McGill University as a thoracic surgeon. During his time here, Bethune was known for his support of free health care, and his leftist sympathies eventually took him to the civil war in Spain, where he provided medical assistance to the Republicans, and to China, where, in 1938 and 1939, he worked alongside Communists fighting the Japanese invasion. Bethune died of blood poisoning in 1939 when he was cut while performing surgery.

Bethune remained largely anonymous until his work was praised by Mao Zedong in an essay entitled In Memory of Norman Bethune. Bethune was one of the few foreigners revered in Maoist China, and statues of his likeness can be found throughout the country. Even today, Bethune’s name holds a certain resonance in China.

But what about his square in Montreal? Well, to be blunt, it doesn’t do the man justice. Although Norman Bethune Square is easily one of the busiest spots downtown, located in the midst Concordia’s bustling downtown campus, next to bus stops and Guy-Concordia metro, and surrounded by tall apartment towers, it is ratty and weather-beaten. Its pavement consists of cracked concrete and packed gravel, and the handful of benches that surround Bethune’s statue are of the most dilapidated and crummy variety possible. Crude wooden boards have been nailed to their seats to prevent people from sleeping on them. On the far east corner of the square, a single sickly pine tree struggles to survive amidst the constant buzz of traffic.

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Managing a City’s Grief

It has been exactly a year since the day after the Dawson College shootings. I remember hearing about them on television, and then heading downtown for work, passing by Dawson on the way and gawking at the assembled police, medics and bystanders. What I remember most, though, is what happened in the days that followed, when thousands of Montrealers ventured down to leave flowers, candles and messages of support at a makeshift memorial on Atwater Avenue.

I too felt the urge to visit, motivated by a sense of curiosity tinged, perhaps, with a bit of grief. When I arrived on September 15th, two days after the shootings, the memorial was larger than I had expected. Behind the rows of flowers, a Portuguese flag hung next to a poster exhorting the end of violence, “en el nombre de todos las madres.”

After a few minutes, I realized with some surprise that the memorial seemed to have it own curator: a skinny man in late middle age, dressed entirely in black, his blond hair gelled into a fauxhawk, an unlikely guardian of the public’s grief. I watched as he greeted strangers in English and French, offering them dollar-store candles and words of consolation. He carefully arranged the things they brought along the college’s fence.

I had seen this man before: he was a notable downtown eccentric, normally found on Ste. Catherine Street, dancing alongside the Dancing Spiderman. Last June, I saw him dancing extravagantly behind the stage of the Grand Prix festival on Crescent Street; a week later, he was dancing outside In Beat Records at the Main Madness street fair.

Dawson was traumatic even for those who were not touched directly; I’ve always wanted to ask the blond-haired man why he took it upon himself to manage the memorial at Dawson. Was it a conscious decision? Or was he pulled to the college by some inexorable force, like so many of the Montrealers who felt obliged, in the week following the shooting, to go to the corner of Atwater and de Maisonneuve?

We all stood there in front of the memorial in awkward silence, uncomfortable with the sadness that lingered heavily over the street. The curator, though, bustled about with an air of cautious determination, the only one among us who knew exactly what to do.

How Would You Like Your Pine and Park?

By Montreal standards, it was a remarkably quick construction project. Perhaps that is because it mostly involved deconstruction: an entire interchange dismantled and replaced with a straightforward, easy-to-negotiate and pedestrian-friendly surface intersection. It has already been several months since the revamped Pine/Park interchange was opened. Since then, I’ve come to appreciate its wide sidewalks and broad vista of Mount Royal, uncluttered by highway signage and crumbling concrete bretelles. I don’t think I’m alone, either, considering how much pedestrian traffic there seems to be at the new intersection.

Of course, the roads, sidewalks and light fixtures might be installed, but the intersection is far from complete. Four parcels of land on each corner of the intersection remain vacant. Now, the Plateau Mont-Royal borough wants to know what you think should be done with this space. Three stages of public consultation will take place this fall, culminating in what will hopefully become Montreal’s greatest new public space. The first stage, which will last until October 9th, is an open call for ideas. The borough has set up a form for you to share your vision of the interchange, so make yourself heard! The best ideas will be compiled and presented on November 9th, followed by a “grand échange” on the 24th.

Personally, I hope that the space at Pine and Park will be used for something dynamic and unconventional. I would love to see some sort of water feature — this city doesn’t have enough fountains — and a mix of uses that will ensure a constant level of activity year-round, perhaps including a bit of outdoor retail space for cafés and street vendors. Over the summer, community activists in the McGill Ghetto made it clear that residential development would not be tolerated, and I agree that condos would be a rather poor use for what is, after all, a bridge between downtown and the mountain. But simple park space, like some have proposed, would be just as bland and unimaginative.

But enough about me: what do you think? This is your space, Montreal. Tell us what you want!

Crossposted from Spacing Montreal.

What Will Become of Griffintown?

Recently, Quebec developer Devimco partnered with Toronto-based RioCan to build the suburban Dix30 “lifestyle centre,” a drive-in power-centre big-box shopping mall located in a greenfield development at the intersections of Highways 10 and 30 on the South Shore.

Devimco is now working with the City of Montreal to push through a similar $1B development right at the foot of Peel Street, on the Peel Basin section of the Lachine Canal, likely occupying the same land that was originally proposed for the now-defunct Cirque du Soleil / Casino complex. Reportedly, Wal-Mart and Canadian Tire are to be anchor tenants.

A suburban mall at the foot of one of Montreal’s central boulevards, in the middle of Griffintown and adjacent to Old Montreal, ignores both the “retail DNA” of Montreal and the history of a proud neighborhood. It’s anti-urban, representing low density and sprawl, and there is serious doubt that it will contribute positively in terms of built space, eyes on the street, and other issues.

Even if there is a residential tower attached, as the current proposal includes, it’s still likely going to be a lot of cheap sheds separated by acres of parking. It’s an odd decision in a neighborhood that is moving towards drastically increased residential density and good urban design, and which is likely to be enhanced by the Harbour Commission’s plans to demolish the elevated portions of the Bonaventure Expressway to create a pedestrian-friendly urban boulevard and tramway links. With Peak Oil on the horizon, are big-box malls of national chain retail even viable, anyway?

We — being Stephanie Troeth and yours truly, AJ Kandy — are proposing an alternative, urbanist vision for the project in a quick six-minute presentation at the upcoming Montreal Pecha Kucha Night, Tuesday, September 18th at the SAT, starting at 8:00pm. We hope to see all of you there, and for those who can’t attend, we’ll be republishing it online with narration, background articles and links, and providing tools for action and discussion.

In the meantime, interested citizens should get in touch with the Sud-Ouest borough mayor’s office about an upcoming series of public consultations on the project.

A Sunday in Chinatown

Fruit vendor on Clark Street

Posters on Clark Street

Chinese seniors’ home on de Bullion

Battleaxe Mount Royal

Most Montrealers know about the tam tams. Hell, the weekly drum circle, market and gathering around the Sir George Étienne Cartier Monument on Mount Royal is even used by Tourism Montreal to promote the city. But what about the fighting that goes on in the woods behind the tam tams?

Every Sunday, just a few minutes’ walk from the traffic of Park Avenue, past the trinket vendors, dancers, drum players, drug dealers and picnickers that sprawl across the park lawn, is a weekly mock battle between dozens of people dressed as medieval warriors. They fight with elaborately weapons — swords, daggers, lances, shields, battleaxes and more — crafted entirely from foam and duct tape. Most of the warriors are young men, but every week, as the battle draws more attention, it seems to attract a more diverse crowd that includes some women.

I have no idea how this battle got started. When I wrote an article on the tam tams for the Gazette, in 2003, I can’t recall that it existed. It must be fairly recent, then. In any case, it’s hugely entertaining and it takes place with the same spontaneous organized chaos as the tam tams. In fact, it feeds on the bizarre energy that the tam tams bring to Mount Royal and Jeanne Mance Park every Sunday, a kind of energy that turns normally exclusive activities into large, welcoming and communal ones.

Yesterday, I went down to Mount Royal to check out the fight with some friends. It turns out that anyone can join the fight; there’s even a guy who will loan you weapons. Armed with a couple of makeshift swords from the dollar store, one of my friends charged in only to stand in the dust, bewildered. He was, of course, killed. As he walked back, a man with a shaved head, clad in leather armour, turned to him and said, “I will avenge your death.”

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Chicago in August

I visited Chicago last month, marking my first real visit to the city, as Chicago was previously one of my “airport only” cities.

Click here to view the whole set.

Mosques in the City

New mural at a mosque in downtown Montreal

In last week’s issue of the Economist, a couple of interesting articles looked at the challenge of building mosques in Western cities. All too often, it seems, cities and neighbourhoods in Europe and North America become divided when faced with the possibility that a minaret might rise on the horizon. What is it, though, that scares people about mosques? Is it the fear of terrorism fed by media reports of radical imams preaching their jihadist rhetoric at suburban mosques? Or is it something more elemental, a simple fear of a changing society?

In Cologne, whose population population numbers about 120,000, the question of whether or not to build a lavish central mosque has split the city along deep, though unexpected, lines. Apparently, many Roman Catholic clergy support the mosque, but one prominent Jewish intellectual — Ralph Giordano, a Holocaust survivor — has come out strongly against it, claiming that it would encourage the creation of a parallel Muslim society in Germany. The whole matter has given a boost to Germany’s far right, which has used the mosque issue to win support for its extremist agenda.

If anything, though, the establishment of proper mosques — that is to say, grand and highly-visible public structures — is one sure way to integrate Muslims into mainstream society. But that is exactly what mosque opponents are fighting against: they don’t want Muslims to be accepted by the mainstream. They see Muslims as fundamentally foreign, so their opposition to mosques is rooted in xenophobia and little else. (Even Ralph Giordano admits that his opposition to the Cologne stems from his belief that Germany is a fundamentally “Judeo-Christian” country.) The idea of minarets becoming an everyday part of the urban fabric, like church steeples, is abhorrent to them. Perhaps that is why a number of Swiss politicians are currently advocating a nation-wide ban on minarets; not mosques, just minarets.

North America, the Economist notes, offers better legal protection to mosque builders, despite having its own “Islam-bashers ready to play on people’s fears.” There have been many controversies over the construction of new mosques but, in the end, Canadian and American courts are likely to rule on the side of religious freedom.

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Quebec City Tour #7: Montcalm

To many people in Quebec, Montcalm ward is synonymous with old money and big houses. It is actually quite a diverse and interesting area, with everything from cheap student flats to landscaped boulevards with mansions. The term “climbing the social ladder” takes on a rather literal meaning here—the lower part of Montcalm is more modest than the streets fronting the Plains of Abraham at the top.

Montcalm is located immediately west of Saint-Jean-Baptiste, and about a twenty minute walk from Vieux-Québec. This is too far for most tourists, which is a shame as the area has lots to offer. The few tourists who do make it out tend to come for the National Museum of Fine Arts and the Plains of Abraham, but a walk through its architecturally diverse streets is worth the detour.

In the middle of the 19th century, Montcalm was located outside Quebec’s city limits. A tiny settlement of tax dodgers sprung up on its edge, called Faubourg Guenette. Most of the land in today’s Montcalm was originally owned by wealthy English-speaking lumber barons. These gentleman-farmers built picturesque villas on large estates overlooking the cliffs, living out the romantic ideal and fleeing the cholera and typhus of the dense centre.

Traces of the old Faubourg Guenette, along Rue Crémazie

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Clean Up Montreal’s Chinatown

This Saturday is the annual Chinatown Clean-Up festival, organized by the Chinese Family Service of Greater Montreal, a non-profit community organization. It might sound kind of odd — a cleaning festival? — but it promises to be a lot of fun. Participants will spend a couple of hours sweeping up different sections of the neighbourhood while variety show presents music, sketches and other entertainment. Politicians will make speeches and do the photo-op thing. Best of all, volunteers will be rewarded with an organic cotton American Apparel t-shirt and a free lunch at the Man Sau Centre.

This year’s event is green-themed and co-sponsored, among others, by Éco-quartier and Green Life, a group dedicated to raising environmental awareness in the Chinese community and promoting a more city- and community-focused kind of environmentalism. While volunteers clean, a variety show in Sun Yat Sen Park will present sketches on recycling in Cantonese, Mandarin and French, and information booths will tell you how to reduce your environmental impact.

Perhaps the most important thing about Chinatown Clean-Up, though, is that it’s a a symbolic event designed to promote Chinatown and the Chinese community as an indispensable part of Montreal. “It’s meant to get the Chinese community together, but it’s also an intercultural exchange between everyone in Montreal,” says the event’s organizer, Laine Tam (who also happens to be a contributor for Urbanphoto). “I think it’s a great way to showcase what Montreal is all about, that it’s a multicultural and multilingual city, despite recent controversies.”

I’ve spent a lot of time in Chinatown over the past several months. It’s a bigger neighbourhood than most people realize, extending beyond the short commercial district between St. Urbain and St. Laurent, and a lot more diverse. Thousands of people live there, most of them elderly immigrants, and thousands more go there every day to shop. Most are Chinese, certainly, but they are Chinese from very different places: Mainland China, Hong Kong, Taiwan, Vietnam and a host of other countries. Shopowners and shoppers alike are a ployglot bunch, speaking Cantonese, Mandarin, Vietnamese, English and French.

For the community, that diversity means that events like the Chinatown Clean-Up are necessary to bring disparate elements of the community together. For other Montrealers, the Clean-Up is a great way to reacquaint themselves with their own city’s small but venerable Chinatown.

The 2007 Chinatown Clean-Up will take place on Saturday, September 8th from 11am–2pm, at the corner of Clark and La Gauchetière. Contact Laine Tam at lainecfs@gmail.com or (514) 861 5244, ext. 231, for more details.

“It Was Too Funky to Last”

McGill architecture students Jessica Dan (left) and Aurore Paluel-Marmont work at the Architecture Café, which is slated to be replaced by a corporate licensee. Photo by John Kenney

Like all good secrets, the Architecture Café is a bit hard to find, tucked as it is in the basement of McGill University’s School of Architecture.

Most students, unless they have a class in the lecture hall next door, are unlikely to come across it by chance. Yet this non-profit student-run café has long been one of the most popular spaces on campus, filled throughout the day with students and faculty from across the university.

At lunchtime, a line usually bends out the door and down a hallway as customers file in for sandwiches, pastries, zaatar and bargain-priced coffee.

Many see the café, started in 1993, as an alternative to the other cafeterias at McGill, which are run by such corporate licensees as Chartwells, a subsidiary of Compass Group Canada.

As students head back to classes, they might find that the last student-operated café at Montreal’s oldest university is packing up for good: McGill’s administration has ordered it closed.

According to Morton Mendelson, deputy provost of student life and learning, the move reflects the administration’s efforts to centralize food service on campus as a means to ensure health safety.

But since news of the café’s fate broke in early August, students have rallied behind a drive to keep it alive. A Facebook group called Save the Architecture Café, founded by the café’s student operators, drew more than 1,500 current and former McGill students as members within a week.

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