Written By: Daniel Puppin
If the common Torontonian knew just how much cultural loss our architectural cityscape has faced over the last 75 years, I’m sure they’d dwell on it for at least a few moments before carrying on with their day. I tend to dwell on it often – what was, what could have been, and most importantly, what we are becoming.
When asked, "What does this city need?" a typically agreed-upon response is more development - more housing, more infrastructure, more retail. While such a response is not entirely wrong, we won't actually improve this city unless these ambitions are executed thoughtfully and humanistically. The mid-century urban renewal era reminds us that growth without regard for community often leads to loss. Still, we see echoes of those same practices today, where in the name of 'density' we replace entire blocks of unique, individual units with obstructive, exclusive, and obtrusive towers. This undermines the character of the community, the pedestrian experience, and our meaningful interactions with the built environment.
Humanity has built effectively dense, livable, adaptable, beautiful cities for a good millennium prior to this modern trend, and Toronto was once one of them. Density is important, but it is often implemented ineffectively or used as a disingenuous excuse in our current context. Density doesn’t just mean building taller structures where shorter ones once stood; it also means building into the space between spaces or onto the space above spaces, thus forming new spatial dynamics through adaptive reuse and creative solutions. Flat, characterless, repetitive, multi-story boxes often outright replace iconic and significant locations, such as Honest Ed’s and the surrounding Mirvish Village. They erase rows of Victorian shopfronts, where people once lived, explored, and conducted commerce. Or they buy out the beloved standalone burger joint that served as an affordable community staple for decades. Toronto desperately needs culture, not just condos. Our culture deteriorates with every swing of the wrecking ball, with every strongarm against the common citizen, with every stacking of another uninteresting pre-cast slab or synthetic brick panel.
People find joy in the ability to explore the nooks and crannies, to traverse the streets and laneways organically, to be enamoured by a beautiful façade, an extravagant display of lights, or a small business within an established and vibrant community. We have stifled, and continue to stifle, these moments of fluidity and wanderlust.
To be clear, I am not insinuating that we shouldn’t build towers, rather that we should diligently prioritize the wheres, whys, and hows when we do it.
Architecture is the human habitat, it holds powerful influence over our psyche, our mood, our outlook. As designers, it is our responsibility to scrutinize shortsighted city-building practices, keeping these critiques in the back of our minds to avoid repeating the same mistakes of the past. It is of the utmost importance that our city planning allows room for whimsy and charm, that it respects the history, culture, and style of the spaces it seeks to modify, as well as the humanity of the commoner who dwells within. After all, people live here.
