My Toronto is not the mayor - part five

No Smithsonian or Louvre or Albert Hall, but we aren't entirely without possibilities. By some estimates, this is the biggest live theatre city after London and New York. Toronto has one of the world's most influential film festivals and and is North America's third busiest movie production centre. Think Chicago, Good Will Hunting, Hairspray and, if honest, Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen.

The Toronto of my teenage years was a culturally conservative backwater. Oh, we did have Marshall ('The medium is the message') McLuhan. Now, it's almost a surprise to find that Toronto's hip, cool and internationally fashionable. Certainly, it seems hard to turn a corner without coming across either a film set or some sort of fashion or promotional photography going on.

There's plenty of public art. The full size elephant is a personal favourite.

Seen by thousands of shoppers every day, a flock of Canada Geese flaps through the Eaton Centre. Flying in a 'V', the real ones are majestic. On the ground, they're thuggish and aggressive and, well, just not Canadian.

In the Toronto Sculpture Garden, an artist works on a sleuth (bet you didn't know that) of bears. 

This is an artist's studio. If really interested, Google 'Toronto Sculpture Garden Mushroom Studio'.

Massey Hall, once the Toronto's Symphony's home, opened in 1894. It's Canada's oldest performing arts theatre and reputed to have excellent acoustics. Among those who've performed here were Paderewski, Caruso, Pavarotti and Maria Callas. Winston Churchill also appeared at Massey Hall, although I suspect he didn't sing.

El Mocombo has been frequented by the Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, Elvis Costello and U2. 

No more, but the sign's still here. Johnny Cash, Harrison Ford and Leonard Cohen patronized Club Matador.

If clubs don't appeal, Toronto, in the warmer months, is awash with public performances. There are so many street festivals, politicians and police are regularly criticized by irate motorists. Of course, many of those motorists later park their cars and attend other festivals. 

In my neighbourhood, a group breaks from a pub gig to perform on the sidewalk.

Across the street from my living room, rooftop entertainment. Unfortunately, I couldn't hear because of the traffic.

A passerby plays a public piano.

People's Chicken (I think the name has changed) offers live music. The food varies, but the bands have been great. And I like the rooftop Chicken.

In-your-face graffiti is an irritating, but certainly not major, Toronto problem. However, in older parts, lanes behind houses become unintended free canvases. Tours are run to inspect unusual art usually unseen but for those with newly decorated garages. Respectable, middle-class citizens, who'd go berserk at the merest hint of graffiti on their own fences, cluster 'round guides and make appreciative comments about street art.

For those who prefer more formal presentations, the Art Gallery of Ontario (there's a picture in 'My Toronto is not the mayor - part four') has a major Henry Moore collection, some nine hundred sculptures and works on paper. The British artist gifted them to the AGO.

The Royal Ontario Museum - next to the city's planetarium seen below- has one of the West's largest collections of East Asian art and artifacts. I've included the planetarium because, by the time you visit, it might no longer exist. It closed in 1995, which seems a pity given advances in space and knowledge of the universe over the past two decades. The site seems likely to become a new cultural complex.

The planetarium may vanish, but this already has. In a quiet underpass near the University of Toronto, the nod to knowledge has been painted over. I was quite fond of it.

On the other hand, I'm pleased that this work, on the side of a railway bridge not far from me, remains.

Ernest Hemingway was a Toronto Star reporter in the early 1920s. It would be fair to say that, after Europe, Toronto was not the most exciting or stimulating of towns. In fact, for Hemingway, it was boring and, to make a long and complicated story short, he returned to Paris.

In 1961 Toronto, the Irish dramatist Brendan Behan got drunk, bopped a hotel employee, was arrested and fined. Unimpressed with local liquor laws, he departed. However, he did state, 'Toronto will be a fine town when it's finished'.

I like to think Toronto, although unfinished, has improved. Why, you can even drink in outdoor cafes, something unimaginable when Brendan was getting sloshed. And who couldn't love a city that has a bicycle decorating competition on its main street? Not highbrow, but culture, indeed!