Toronto Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts | ?m | 5s | COC | Diamond Schmitt

People aren't stupid, they know when something's not particularly attractive. It's a built in sense in most animals.

And always quite subjective as that judgement lies with the individual.
 
There is an article on the current (new) issue of Toronto Life that talks about the opera house, with some of the best pics I've seen of the building.

AoD
 
Compare and contrast, both articles by Hume from the Star:

An opera house that doesn't put on airs
Christopher Hume
Toronto Star. Toronto, Ont.: Apr 23, 2003. pg. B.01

Copyright 2003 Toronto Star, All Rights Reserved.

As a landmark and concert hall, the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts will be as exciting outside as in.

Final plans released recently by Diamond and Schmitt Architects Inc., the Toronto firm that designed the $85 million facility on the southeast corner of University Ave. and Queen St. W., show a multi- faceted complex with a huge transparent lobby- the City Room- that looks west on to University.

"The idea is to make the excitement visible from the street," explains architect Jack Diamond. "The entire front will be sheathed in glass like a giant lantern."

The four-storey glass box will include an enormous staircase that doubles as a venue for small performances and pre-concert talks. Diamond, who calls it an "aerial amphitheatre," also sees it as a kind of stage on which visitors, as well as performers, will be the main attraction.

If University is the ceremonial face of the opera house, Queen will be its commercial side. This is where the box office, shops and a cafe will be located. The second floor, dedicated to lounges for donors and sponsors, will be a double-height space that overlooks the grounds of Osgoode Hall across the road.

With seating for 2,000, the hall itself is on the large size. Eschewing the decorative glitter traditionally associated with opera houses, Diamond has opted for simplicity and restraint. The walls, which extend continuously around the horseshoe-shaped hall from one side of the stage to the other, will be finished in plaster to resemble rows of huge concave blocks.

Overhead, the ceiling will be an accumulation of "floating leaves," large irregular shapes that overlap and abut one other. Between some there will be small openings just big enough to shine a spotlight through.

Given that opera is primarily a musical form, it's not surprising much of Diamond's effort has been focused on acoustics. Acousticians, practitioners of murky science, insist that surfaces be hard, but not too hard, and soft, but not too soft. Sound must reflect from the stage to the audience, without being too "live" or too "dead."

The plaster "blocks," Diamond says, "have the right reflective acoustic surfaces."

Speaking of sound, the architects' other priority was to deal with the noise of the subway, which runs below the opera house up University, and the streetcar, which rumbles along Queen. To absorb the sound, the entire hall will sit on rubber pads supported on a series of massive steel columns. In fact, the performance space will be constructed as a building within a building. There will be a gap between the two structures, though it will be plugged with polystyrene.

"We started with the acoustics, then moved to the stage and the lighting," Diamond says. "Then we looked at how to create the sense of intimacy the hall should have, the excitement of arrival and the context of an urban site."

As Diamond also points out, the block-sized property is tight without being small. Because certain elements- hall, orchestra pit, stage, flytower (where scenery is kept suspended above the stage), rehearsal room and loading docks- cannot be reduced in volume, the challenge was to give them the space they need without overwhelming the site.

Diamond's response was to "deconstruct" the various components of the facility and express each one individually.

The heart of the complex, which includes the hall and the flytower, is surrounded by more street-friendly elements, such as the lobby and retail outlets on Queen.

Although Diamond has picked up on traditional features, such as the grand staircase in the City Room and, of course, the hall itself, he has tried to reinvent the opera house for a 21st-century urban context. That means a more democratic approach best appreciated, perhaps, in the lobby, a place where audience members are themselves on display for the larger audience of passersby outside.

This new attitude can also be seen in the way the opera house has been carefully fitted into its surroundings.

The building makes its most public gestures on University, Toronto's main boulevard, and turns to retail on Queen, one of the city's busiest shopping streets.

The old ideal of the opera house as an aristocratic playground, oblivious to everything around it, has clearly given way to the desire to be fully a part of the city. That alone is something worth singing about.

The Four Seasons is scheduled to open in June, 2006.

Christopher Hume can be reached at chume @ thestar.ca.
_________________________________________________

Opera house sadly ordinary; Christopher Hume sees a modest and humble effort that's more community centre than cathedral
Christopher Hume
Toronto Star. Toronto, Ont.: Jul 3, 2005. pg. C.08

Copyright (c) 2005 Toronto Star, All Rights Reserved.

Of all the building projects now changing the face of the city, few have generated less enthusiasm than Toronto's opera house.

Given that it's the only new cultural facility designed and built from scratch, this shouldn't be.

But from the moment the project was announced back in the late 1990s, it has been under a cloud of uncertainty.

Things got off to a rocky start when a group of powerful donors connected to the Canadian Opera Company decided to take matters into their own hands and see whether Toronto-born star architect Frank Gehry was willing to get involved. They were concerned the building, designed by respected local firm Diamond and Schmitt Architects, wasn't as exciting as it should be. Indeed, to many the scheme seemed vaguely apologetic.

Professional protocol demanded that Gehry turn down the offer, but even as the opera house takes shape on the southeast corner of Queen St. W. and University Ave., it has failed to grab the imagination of Torontonians.

There's nothing wrong with the new complex, but instead of something spectacular, it is polite, well mannered, deferential, even self-effacing. That would be fine if it were anything else, but this is, after all, an opera house, not a downtown shopping centre.

What is opera if not spectacle?

Even the name, the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts, has the generic ring of a multi-purpose community centre rather than an opera house.

It doesn't help either that the Canadian Opera Company's artistic director, Richard Bradshaw, decided to dedicate the company's upcoming seasons to that most turgid of works, Richard Wagner's Ring Cycle. Rather than mark the occasion by, say, commissioning a new Canadian opera, the COC will remain in the past.

Maybe Bradshaw has forgotten, but opera houses of old tended to be grand edifices in which the rich and powerful gathered to see and be seen. The spectacle happened on and off stage. By contrast, the Four Seasons will be a pared down, altogether more modest and humble effort, much better suited to a city that hasn't fully outgrown its dour Presbyterian roots, its distrust of the arts or its deep- seated feelings of civic poverty.

If ever there was an opera house that doesn't want to be an opera house, this is it. Compact and utilitarian, contextual and urban, this is the Massey Hall of the 21st century, intended for uplift more than pleasure. It is an opera house that dares to be ordinary.

Still, the architects didn't forget to flatter the audience, in this case by putting the building's most public space, the lobby, behind a glass facade that faces onto University Ave.

Though the project remains very much a construction site, the floating stairwells in the lobby are already taking shape. And, in keeping with the spirit of past opera houses, they will enable the audience to see and be seen. When finished, these stairwells will become "stages" on which the audience will be fully visible to passersby on University. This will be the most dramatic architectural gesture in a hall apparently designed so it won't be noticed.

From the south, the Four Seasons looks rather like an afterthought, strangely unfinished and with its dark masonry surfaces decidedly industrial in tone. Along Queen, it takes on the familiar look of a commercial structure, the new northeast corner of the Eaton Centre, perhaps, or BCE Place, not so much cultural as retail, but of the best sort.

Although the location couldn't be better - it even has its own subway stop - one can't help but feel the site isn't quite large enough for such a purpose. Like opera singers, opera houses need room to breathe, and there's precious little space here for that. The hall already seems cramped, with the flytower looming over the building just a bit too close for comfort.

But after the last go-round back in the 1980s, when architect Moshe Safdie conceived a truly memorable complex for a site at Bay and Wellesley Sts., the good burghers of this city have been terrified to dream big. Perhaps that's why the bulk of the cultural projects now under construction in Toronto are additions.

Back in 1989, the premier of the day, Bob Rae, pulled the plug on the Safdie scheme because it was too expensive for poor little old Toronto. The cost had reached $311 million; by contrast, the Four Seasons will come in at an ever so humble $181 million.

(Interestingly, that same former premier, whose NDP government did so much damage to the cultural infrastructure of Ontario, has since reinvented himself, among other things, as the saviour of arts and music in these parts.)

Given the city's long and troubled history trying to build an opera house, perhaps it's not surprising that Toronto is so reluctant, so conflicted about the idea. We'd like to jump into the water but we're afraid of getting in over our heads. And so we're constructing a pool that never gets too deep. We prefer to stay in the shallow end.

AoD
 
In fairness, one is allowed to change one's mind. But I'd rather he explain the evolution of his thought...
 
When I want to take a crap, I go to a washroom and close the door. Hume should try that too, instead of just typing away.

At this point he's simply grinding an axe, and trying to fell the place before it is even finished or opened. Before telling the public how they feel about a building they haven't been into, he should give them a chance to make up their own minds after their own experiences with the place.

BTW, I sort-of know Chris, and I like him, and I often agree with his assessments, but not always, which normally is simply a matter of minor differences in personal taste, but here it seems like there's something more - some underlying negativity slanting Hume's 'reportage'.

Grumble.

42
 
SNF:

Indeed. I found it really odd however that he sung praises of the house being open, democratic and respectful of its' urban context, only to come back and argue for pomp and circumstance down the road.

AoD
 
Metro: I have also passed by the Opera House with a so-called layperson who happened to quite like the building. Chacun son gout, non? What strikes me is your insistance that you speak for the uninformed masses of Toronto. I mean, I understand that most people will find something they don't like about this or any other building, but to write it off as being summarily and uniformly rejected by the hoi polloi and thereby a failure of a building seems more than just a little drastic. You've had a particular hate-on for this building for a while now, and I think we have to view your opinion in this light.
 
Clearly, a huge divide separates those of us who are engaged by this quietly dignified building - and those who aren't.

The 'Toronto Life' article is probably an instructive read for anyone with an open mind who hasn't followed the thinking that went into the building. But does it offer anything new?
Other than the sexy photos - the building never looked better - I don't think so.

Still, the way it concludes sums it up nicely for me:

" the opera house is a genuinely Toronto building, with an appropriate mix of modesty and exuberance. "
 
Clearly, a huge divide separates those of us who are engaged by this quietly dignified building - and those who aren't.

Not sure it's a huge divide. I have mixed feelings about it. As my bus passed by it last night, I took a nice hard look and the City Room looked quite spectacular all lit up and the new Four Seasons signage looked great too. And from the pics of the interior, it's looks quite impressive. But that's it really. The rest of the building really does look like a community centre as Hume mentioned (I'm sure he took that line from the comments on this board). Hopefully, the Queen St. side will improve with some trees and some retail/cafes or whatever they have planned.

I can't help but wonder what it could have been had the shoestring budget not been a problem. Even the City Room would have been more spectacular with its spiral staircases. I just find it a bit odd that the hardcore fans of this building, a building that had been revised several times to cut costs, can't seem to find anything to criticise.

Still, the way it concludes sums it up nicely for me:

" the opera house is a genuinely Toronto building, with an appropriate mix of modesty and exuberance. "

My question is, how much longer do we want to be a modest city? What's wrong with wowing people? What's wrong with some spectacle now and then?
 
^so because one building doesn't offer spectacle the whole city doesn't? look around - toronto has lots of spectacle in its cultural buildings.
 
I have mixed views about this building myslef as well - I really appreciate what Diamond has done with the City Room, and find the hall (both interior and the screen) fabulous. As for the Queen street side, I can't help but think that it is incomplete - the glass curtain wall would have looked much better it it extended the length of the wall, or was broken up into cubust elements. The York and Richmond facades are nothing more than afterthoughts, however (although the brutalist in me does find something in the Richmond street facade to appreciate).

Considered on the merits of the Hall, the City Room, and at least part of the Queen Street facade, Diamond designed a winner - from most other vantage points, it really does have a community-centre air to it. All in all, I think it succeeds where it truly counts, and fails where success is not explicitly necessary. Maybe this is the source of Hume's ambivalence?
 
It's still a bit early to really say what the Queen facade will be like in a finished state at street level since it still has PCL stickers on the windows, etc. As for the York and Richmond facades, no one cares...99% of Torontonians (myself included) have never walked down either block on those streets and will never see the building from those angles. Maybe if it was clad in shiny metal and was on stilts, it would be world-class enough to please all the laymen, or at least all the people with ADHD.
 
The Review section in the Globe has several articles (posted here) and one amazing 3D cutaway of the house

Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts
It's open. Who cares?
Well, you should, even if you don't know Parsifal from Pagliacci, writes opera buff DAVID MacFARLANE. The new Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts fills a crucial role in the creation of the city: It reminds us all that anything is possible

DAVID MACFARLANE

From Saturday's Globe and Mail

It's not as if you have to wheel out the heavy artillery of argument to convince Torontonians who love opera that they should be thrilled at the prospect of the opening of the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts.

They've been putting on a brave face for a long time. Forty-five years to be precise — sitting stoically in what was first the O'Keefe Centre, later the Hummingbird — and anyone who was any farther back than Row M is beginning to get a little curious about what La Bohème actually sounds like. Before that, there was opera at Hart House, and opera at the Eaton Auditorium, and on occasion, when a Met touring company got blown off course and landed, horned helmets and all, in Toronto, there was opera, or something like it, at Maple Leaf Gardens.

Toronto's operatic past means that opera lovers don't need to be encouraged to doff their caps when Richard Bradshaw passes them on the street these days. "Bravo, Maestro," they call — for Bradshaw's perseverance on this particular front is deserving of some entirely new level of the Order of Canada. It would have to be called the "We're Damn Lucky to Have Him" award.

Nor do opera lovers need to be told to shake Jack Diamond's hand in gratitude. They've been yodeling across the mezzanine and looking at old photographs of Bob Goulet, Jose Feliciano and Don Rickles during opera intermissions for long enough to know good architectural news when they see it.

No, opera lovers are already well aware of their good fortune. They pinch themselves several times a day as it is.

The more interesting question is: Why should anyone who has no interest in opera be proud of what now stands at the corner of Queen and University in downtown Toronto? I happen to love opera, I might as well admit. I think of it as a kind of delicious overabundance of ... well, of everything. If you love music and you love theatre, you might as well sleep with the twins in my modest, if not entirely Presbyterian, view.

Indeed, it may be opera's aesthetic excessiveness that appeals to me so much. I love being dazzled by the sweeping music and the adventurous design and the artistic rigour of a production such as the Canadian Opera Company's Siegfried. Equally, I love weeping good old-fashioned buckets.

Both at the tragedy of the story and at the sheer beauty of the singing in the company's completely classic approach to Puccini's Madama Butterfly a few seasons ago. So it's easy to see why I've been cheering on the construction workers for the past year or so.

But why should anyone who doesn't know Parsifal from Pagliacci give two hoots? The answer, I think, has something to do with the importance and the wonder of cities.

When I was a boy, I sometimes walked from the YMCA in Hamilton, Ont., to my father's office in the Medical Arts Building to get a ride home when he completed his Saturday-morning appointments. I usually arrived before he was finished, and I sat in his waiting room and read magazines.

I didn't realize it at the time, but the magazines I found there in the early 1960s — Esquire, The Saturday Evening Post, Maclean's, Life, Time — were representative of a golden age of magazine journalism. They were the last glorious blossoming of something advertisers have managed to kill off successfully: They were publications that came under the heading of "general interest" — which, when you stop to think about it, is exactly the heading you'd like a 12-year-old to spend some time under during a few Saturday mornings of adolescent life.

The stories I read in my father's magazines covered an eclectic range of subjects. Hell's Angels on one page. Pablo Picasso on the next. And one of the things I remember most vividly about those articles is another quaint memento of a bygone age: Not everything was explained to me. Verdi was Verdi, and not "Verdi, the famous Italian opera composer." Writers — as well as editors and publishers — assumed that a certain level of general knowledge obtained among the readership of a general-interest magazine. More importantly, they assumed that where there was not knowledge (as was frequently the case when the reader happened to be 12) there would be curiosity.

It seems to me this is how civilization works: not as a balanced exchange of information from someone who knows something to someone else who already knows the same thing. That, if I'm not mistaken, is the axis of idiocy on which a good deal of contemporary life is already based. That is reality TV.

Civilization is about another kind of exchange — from someone who either knows a lot about something or is very good at it, to someone who doesn't know as much, or is nowhere near as good but who is either interested enough to learn or curious enough to become interested. Who is, in other words, alive.

The ideal consumer, I sometimes think, would be deceased enough to stay permanently within his or her demographic, but alive enough to still be spending money. As markets get more and more narrowly focused, anything that appears to be outside the confines of a target audience — anything that might arouse something as uncontained as curiosity or as broadly based as learning — is either deleted or explained to death.

And as the media increasingly surrenders to the commercial demand to level the relationship between those who send out information and those who receive it, those of us who enjoy the serendipity of general interest, and who depend on the expertise of others to point the way to knowledge or pleasure, or even, perish the thought, to wisdom, look elsewhere for sustenance. We look to the last great compendium of general interest. We look to the city.

Those of us who love cities love the way they come at us from dozens of different angles at the same time. The richness of the array — some of it to our taste, some not — is why cities are so exciting and why we learn so much by living in one. Cities stretch us, challenge us, broaden us. Cities, like magazines in their glory years, can pique our curiosity with an almost unlimited table of contents.

And we become intrigued. About hockey, perhaps; about graffiti, perhaps; about commodities, perhaps; about Verdi. We are led to realms that we might not otherwise have known about by the passions and expertise and genius of our fellow citizens.

The delight of living in a city is that it's possible to flip through its pages. We might, for instance, wonder what all the fuss is about as we drive by the beautifully lit transparency of Diamond's opera house while crowds are making their way in for the first performance of Das Rheingold.

The beauty of a city is that it can provide the answers to the questions it so naturally raises. What's all the fuss about? Well, come and see, and hear, for yourself.

This is particularly true of a city as diverse and as unformed as Toronto. You want ugliness? You want beauty? You want tragedy? You want comedy? Then walk a block or two, and it's all here.

And it is out of this profoundly general amalgamation that something truly extraordinary can sometimes arise. It could be a really good teacher. Or it could be a fabulous guitar player. It could be the help that is provided to someone who desperately needs it. Or it could be the Ring cycle.

The one responsibility a city has is the encouragement of the possibility of excellence. The extent to which it addresses this duty is how, in comparison to the great cities of the world, it will be judged. Excellence of education, excellence of health care, excellence of baseball, of public transportation, of commerce, of charity, of waterfront, excellence of art galleries, excellence of justice, excellence of opera — to name but a few of the impossible ambitions of a city that might aspire to greatness.

It is not necessarily the city's responsibility to achieve these goals, or to pay for them, but it is its job to make room for their possibility, and to celebrate when, against so many odds, that possibility becomes reality. That's what cities are for.

Tomorrow, when the ribbon at the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts is finally cut, opera lovers and those who are indifferent to opera should join together in celebrating one more step toward an unobtainable but endlessly beckoning civic goal.

AoD
 
From the Globe again:

THE OPENING
Opera's new home
It has come in on time and on budget. But creating Toronto's new opera house presented immense challenges, from reluctant donors and near-impossible deadlines to legislative delays, a rumbling subway, and misadventures involving wind, fire, water and snow. SANDRA MARTIN completes our series on a remarkable building

SANDRA MARTIN

No wonder Richard Bradshaw likens the building of Toronto's opera house to the Thirty Years' War. In the 1960s, there were hopes leading up to the Centennial, but we got the O'Keefe (now the Hummingbird Centre) instead. In the 1980s, there were lavish plans to build the Ballet Opera House at the corner of Bay and Wellesley streets, but that dream fizzled too.

Now Bradshaw has pulled off something no other general director of the Canadian Opera Company has been able to achieve: the creation of a purpose-built opera house that is, he says, "everything I desire acoustically," and which came in on time and on budget.

That's not to say the process went smoothly. There were huge hurdles to surmount, and more are still to come as the opera house prepares to launch its first complete version of Wagner's Ring cycle in September, followed by Mozart's Cosi fan tutte to open the regular season in October. Here are the major ones.

SITE

Finding a place to build was a torturous problem involving negotiations with three levels of government and co-partnership deals with a series of private developers. Having scuttled the Ballet Opera House in 1989, the province finally provided an alternative site bounded by University Avenue and Queen, York and Richmond streets in 2002, and after some high-level political haggling, agreed not to make the COC pay for the land.

The site was tight given all the essential components (orchestra pit, front and back stages, delivery and service areas, seating for 2,000) and made even smaller by the demands of cost-sharing commercial partners. In October, 2002, the opera board bravely said, Enough: We'll do it alone without an artistic or commercial partner to help shoulder the risk.

MONEY

After so many false starts, the opera company had to convince supporters that there really was going to be an opera house this time. The land (valued at $30-million), the federal contribution ($25-million) and the lead donation ($20-million from the Four Seasons hotel chain) came together in the spring of 2002.

"We had to hit the ground running," says Wendy McDowall, whose tenure as capital-campaign director began that July. Providing an emotional and experiential connection with potential donors for a building that didn't exist got an assist with the April, 2003, groundbreaking and accompanying $10-million donations from the late R. Fraser Elliott and $13-million from the opera board. "We haven't just taken people's money," says McDowall. "We have built a relationship with them."

Even so, delays in amending federal capital-gains legislation to allow tax relief on charitable donations provided toe-stubbing moments. There are less than $15-million still to raise, but McDowell isn't calling it quits until the curtain rises on the regular season in October. "I'm buying those lottery tickets," she laughs.

DESIGN

Architects build for the future, but they must pay attention to the past. The extravagance of the proposed Ballet Opera House increased the pressure to keep the budget tight. A million-dollar roof garden overlooking Osgoode Hall was shelved, as was a $500,000 glass canopy that would have softened the severity of the brick wall on Richmond Street, although they could be revived if funds materialize. Bradshaw bemoans the "19th-century technology" that requires stagehands to haul ropes to change sets because an elevator was cut.

Persuading the city to alter traffic patterns on York Street to allow deliveries on the tight site was an early issue. Eliminating the rumble of the subway, creating a soundless auditorium with acoustics that rival the best in the world, achieving such impeccable sightlines that there is no such thing as a bad seat, and adding dazzle with an innovative sparkling glass staircase linking the lobby and the auditorium were intricate design and engineering puzzles.

CONSTRUCTION

Long before the hoardings went up, Bradshaw had committed the COC to mounting the Ring cycle (a capital campaign in itself). Given the option, he wanted it in the new house. "Richard thought the building could be designed and built in two years, so we freaked out and then compromised on three years," says Janice Oliver, executive director of the Canadian Opera House Corporation.

To pull off this "total miracle," the design team sat down with PCL Construction Group and came up with a strategy to tender the building in three component parts: excavation, foundation and superstructure. The design and construction processes overlapped for at least a year. Misadventures with wind, fire, water and snow created so much havoc on the construction site that they kept wondering when the plague of locusts was going to descend, Oliver says. Contrary to received wisdom, she now believes it is possible to design and build at the same time.

WHAT'S LEFT

A direct link to the Osgoode subway station was built, but so far the City of Toronto has not offered to pick up the tab to complete the link on its side of the subterranean wall. The technical innovations in the orchestra pit are so intricate that two months have been built into the schedule to allow dancers and musicians to attune themselves to performing in the building before the Ring opens in September. The National Ballet hasn't signed its occupancy lease, which is frustrating, but not catastrophic, says Bradshaw. (After all, what's the Ballet going to do: cancel its gala on June 22, or refund subscribers' tickets for the inaugural season?)

These are niggling issues compared to cash flow. That was, and is, the biggest problem. Bradshaw thinks the middle-priced tickets are too expensive, for example, and he'd love to have enough public money to lower them, and to help underwrite ambitious artistic ventures, including Wagner's Ring. Promised government subsidies often arrive late and in lesser amounts, or not at all. "I don't believe in total subsidies, because it leads to laziness," he insists, "but every nation that has ignored the arts in the history of time has been shown to be decadent."

***

FLY TOWER

This 37-metre-high tower houses the cables and pulleys that suspend unused sets out of sight above the stage. The sets are precisely counterbalanced with adjustable weight bars, allowing technicians to raise and lower enormous backdrops easily by hand.

EXTERIOR FACING

320,000 manganese iron-spot bricks form the exterior of the structure. This dark, glazed surface is designed to reflect the colours of the sky, adding texture and depth to the building's austere facade.

COMPUTER-TESTED SIGHTLINES

The upper tiers of the auditorium enjoy surprisingly good views of the stage, owing to the gradual tapering of the side aisles, a feature honed through extensive computer modelling. To make it easier to pass seated patrons, each row on this level has more legroom. Ring Five also offers some non-fixed seats on the sides that can be reoriented for a better view.

DISTANCE ACROSS THE HALL

From the centre of the Four Seasons stage slightly back from the footlights, the distance to the last seat in the Orchestra Level is approximately 32 m; to the centre of the Grand Ring, 30.5 m and to the centre of the very last row on Ring Five, 37 m.

SURFACED FOR SOUND

50 mm-thick Venetian plaster on the ceiling and balcony fronts creates a hard finish that ensures good bass response. The plaster is slightly mottled to prevent a shrill, tinny response. Hard, resonant wood is used throughout the auditorium to reflect and boost the low-end frequencies - floors are maple while screens and other wood details are beech.

AERIAL AMPHITHEATRE

The wide upper-level staircase doubles as seating for 100 patrons to enjoy a series of free lunchtime concerts and pre-performance talks. The setting is decidedly informal, with natural light streaming in through the five-storey glass curtain wall and a view of University Avenue.

GLASS STAIRCASE

One of the City Room's most spectacular features is the glass staircase, which rises from the Grand Ring to Ring Four. Its sandblasted glass treads provide traction underfoot and a subtle, translucent effect. The staircase, along with a suspended walkway at the Ring Four level, lets patrons enjoy a panoramic view of the City Room.

SHARING THE FACILITY

As the Four Seasons Centre's principal tenant, the National Ballet of Canada has access to a state-of-the-art dance studio in the northeast corner of the building. The two-storey high space is lined with full-length mirrors and ballet barres.

CITY ROOM

The building's distinctive University Avenue face is a soaring five-storey transparent atrium, with a monumental glass curtain wall rising the full height. This transparent effect emphasizes the democratic nature of the building, inviting the public into the facility for a series of free lunchtime concerts. During the day, the atrium is flooded with natural light. At night, it is lit from within.

THE STAGE

Centre stage is 16 m wide, vs. the 18.3 m-wide Hummingbird Centre stage. Unused sets for up to three simultaneous productions can be stored just off the main stage.

ORCHESTRA PIT

Rises and lowers in two parts, allowing it to be fine-tuned to repertoires as diverse as a Mozart chamber piece or Wagner's Ring cycle, which requires an orchestra of more than 100 musicians.

AIR CONDITIONING

This large enclosure under the auditorium -- the orchestra plenum -- is a reservoir for warm air that heats the auditorium above.

UNDERGROUND ACCESS

The Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts connects directly to Osgoode subway station through an underground concourse.

***

RING FIVE

The uppermost seats in Ring Five are tucked almost directly behind the auditorium's high-powered spotlights but the view of the stage remains unobstructed. The follow-spot booth is suspended from the ceiling within a series of sound-reflecting rings that moderate the acoustics and hide the booth from the audience.

RING FOUR

Accessed from the glass staircase and five elevators, this level features the top entrance to the Aerial Amphitheatre, two public lounges with bars, and a private lounge. It has wheelchair-accessible seating on the aisles of the top row.

RING THREE

The performance area of the Aerial Amphitheatre anchors the third-level atrium. Facilities on this level include two hospitality suites for sponsors and private bookings that can accommodate up to 20 people each or can be converted into one larger suite. This level also has wheelchair-accessible seating on the top row.

GRAND RING

Twenty-one private boxes, each of which can seat up to 12 patrons, have private vestibules to hold coats and bags. Each box has sound and light locks, so audience members can come and go without disturbing the performance.

ORCHESTRA RING

The majority of R. Fraser Elliott Hall's seats are accessed directly from the City Room at street level. Designed as a traditional European-style horseshoe-shaped enclosure, the 2,000-seat auditorium and its fly tower form a separate, acoustically contained building within the exterior shell.

BASEMENT

Contains the coat-check area as well as underground access to Osgoode subway station. Its most striking feature is empty space - the orchestra plenum under the auditorium seats acts as a warm-air reservoir. Heated air then rises through low-pressure individual ducts under each seat. In this way, air can be pumped into the auditorium at low pressure, avoiding the rattling and vibration of high-pressure ducts.

PARKING

There is on-site parking for approximately 200 vehicles. There are an additional 3,000 parking spaces within a two-block radius of the Centre.

ISOLATION LEVEL

R. Fraser Elliott Hall rides on a sound-buffering cushion of nearly 500 rubber isolation pads. As a result, noise from passing traffic and the adjacent subway system is virtually eliminated.

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THE FLOATING OPERA HOUSE

The Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts is effectively designed as a building within a building. R. Fraser Elliott Hall forms an acoustically isolated enclosure within the shell of the building. The auditorium walls form a double shell of concrete with a five-to 10 cm gap between them to provide a buffer for airborne noise. All ducts and wiring enter the auditorium through an acoustical buffer, with rubberized seals at every junction. With such measures in place, the inner shell of the centre recently tested at an N1 rating, the highest standard of acoustic isolation.

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The lap of luxury

Seats at the Four Seasons Centre are 53 cm wide, 5 cm wider than the Hummingbird Centre's. A low-pressure vent built into the pedestal of each seat allows air to diffuse noiselessly through the auditorium. This means the hall is completely free of large ducts and vents that can rattle and hiss.

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Where you can sit and what you'll pay

Single tickets
A&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp $275
2B&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp $225
1A&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp $190
1B, 3A&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp $150
1C, 1D&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp $120
1E, 3B, 4A, 5A&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp $90
4B, 5B&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp $60
3C, 4C, 5C&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp $202

Three-opera package
2A&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp $837
2B&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp $687
1A&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp $582
1B, 3A&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp $462
1C, 1D&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp $372
1E, 3B, 4A, 5A&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp $282
4B, 5B&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp $192
3C, 4C, 5C&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp N.A.*

2006-2007 season

Regular prices (6 operas)
2A&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp $1,662
2B&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp $1,362
1A&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp $960
1B, 3A&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp $690
1C, 1D&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp $516
1E, 3B, 4A, 5A&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp $390
4B, 5B&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp $246
3C, 4C, 5C&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp N.A.*

*These seats are available for single performances only to patrons under 30 years of age with valid photo I.D. or on a rush-seating basis, priced at $20 and available after 11 a.m. on the day of the performance.

SOURCES: NISHA LEWIS, CANADIAN OPERA COMPANY; DIAMOND AND SCHMITT ARCHITECTS INC.; THE NATIONAL BALLET OF CANADA

AoD
 

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