I
interchange42
Guest
...meanwhile, BOY has there been a lot of ink and airtime (both radio and tv) devoted to the opening of this hall. The COC really seems to know how to milk it, and good for them.
42
42
Toronto Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts | ?m | 5s | COC | Diamond Schmitt
F
FutureMayor
Guest
Beautiful!
I was so proud to be standing in NPS this evening with at least a thousand other people there as Toronto finally opened it's very own Opera House.
Well done! And this is just the beginning!
Louroz
I was so proud to be standing in NPS this evening with at least a thousand other people there as Toronto finally opened it's very own Opera House.
Well done! And this is just the beginning!
Louroz
A
AlvinofDiaspar
Guest
From the Globe:
Doors open on new era for Toronto opera scene
ROBERT EVERETT-GREEN
From Thursday's Globe and Mail
TORONTO — The stock markets are all a-flutter this week, but if you put money in the Canadian Opera Company's new theatre, you can relax: you made a good investment.
The Four Seasons Centre has been a dream for at least 30 years, and a construction site since 2003.
Luminaries from the stage to the boardroom and the legislature graced the red carpet. Among those in attendance were Governor-General Michaëlle Jean, Isadore Sharp, president and founder of the Four Seasons hotel chain, CITY-TV founder Moses Znaimer, Bank of Montreal CEO Tony Comper, and Conrad Black and wife Barbara Amiel Black.
Authors Margaret Atwood and Margaret MacMillan and philanthropists Henry N. R. Jackman and Barbara and Patrick Keenan were among the 500 donors and guests who later wined and dined on stage in the R. Fraser Elliott Hall during the evening of celebration.
It was a sparkling event, and a peculiar one. The Four Seasons was designed for opera and ballet and nothing else. The musical part of last night's gala event was a concert, with no sets or costumes and very little physical drama. Soloists marched to the front of the stage and delivered their arias.
We might have been at the opening of a new concert hall, but for the fact that the orchestra was sitting in a hole in the floor.
But even with these limitations, the hall sounded like a winner. It's got a very attractive resonance, flattering to all parts of the orchestra and especially to voices on stage.
The sound is warm and a bit contained, but without dryness. It is clear enough to expose every section of the orchestra (a challenging asset), and to give maximum transparency to sung or spoken text.
I was in the fourth row, too close to know how things sounded in the remotest parts of the hall. But I sat in the third ring during a test concert last month, and from both seats the voices rang clear and the orchestra sounded as if every player had been given a better instrument.
The program included some of opera's greatest hits in four languages. Tenor Ben Heppner made the hall ring with the final section of Durch die Walder, from Weber's Der Freischutz. Baritone Gerald Finley tossed off Don Giovanni's Fin ch'han dal vino like the frisky party piece it is, and baritone Brett Polegato nearly stole the show with a strong and characterful performance of Figaro's cocky Largo al factotum, from Rossini's Barber of Seville.
Soprano Adrianne Pieczonka was the first to greet the hall, literally, with a gleaming performance of Wagner's Dich, teure Halle, from Tannhauser. Late in the show, she and Mr. Finley played the turbulent final scene from Tchaikovsky's Eugene Onegin, in full character if not in costume. This gave us, at last, a thrilling taste of what this hall is for, in a dramatic performance by two of Canada's greatest singers.
The pit stayed at its lowest position all night, which was good for Wagner, not so great for Mozart, Rossini and Delibes (represented by the inevitable duet from Lakmé, sung by Aline Kutan and Allyson McHardy). The COC will probably never play those composers from such a murky depth again.
The orchestra played alone twice, in a courtly excerpt from Richard Strauss's Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme, and in the Act III Prelude from Wagner's Lohengrin, which hinted at the power and delicacy of sound available from the hall's enormous pit.
The COC Chorus sang in several numbers, impressing with its power and unified sound. The concert ended with the final pages of Beethoven's Symphony No. 9, a piece famously performed by Wagner when the foundation stone for his opera house at Bayreuth was laid in 1872. At the close, our own Richard took the stage for a huge ovation, in a house that owes more to him than to anyone.
AoD
Doors open on new era for Toronto opera scene
ROBERT EVERETT-GREEN
From Thursday's Globe and Mail
TORONTO — The stock markets are all a-flutter this week, but if you put money in the Canadian Opera Company's new theatre, you can relax: you made a good investment.
The Four Seasons Centre has been a dream for at least 30 years, and a construction site since 2003.
Luminaries from the stage to the boardroom and the legislature graced the red carpet. Among those in attendance were Governor-General Michaëlle Jean, Isadore Sharp, president and founder of the Four Seasons hotel chain, CITY-TV founder Moses Znaimer, Bank of Montreal CEO Tony Comper, and Conrad Black and wife Barbara Amiel Black.
Authors Margaret Atwood and Margaret MacMillan and philanthropists Henry N. R. Jackman and Barbara and Patrick Keenan were among the 500 donors and guests who later wined and dined on stage in the R. Fraser Elliott Hall during the evening of celebration.
It was a sparkling event, and a peculiar one. The Four Seasons was designed for opera and ballet and nothing else. The musical part of last night's gala event was a concert, with no sets or costumes and very little physical drama. Soloists marched to the front of the stage and delivered their arias.
We might have been at the opening of a new concert hall, but for the fact that the orchestra was sitting in a hole in the floor.
But even with these limitations, the hall sounded like a winner. It's got a very attractive resonance, flattering to all parts of the orchestra and especially to voices on stage.
The sound is warm and a bit contained, but without dryness. It is clear enough to expose every section of the orchestra (a challenging asset), and to give maximum transparency to sung or spoken text.
I was in the fourth row, too close to know how things sounded in the remotest parts of the hall. But I sat in the third ring during a test concert last month, and from both seats the voices rang clear and the orchestra sounded as if every player had been given a better instrument.
The program included some of opera's greatest hits in four languages. Tenor Ben Heppner made the hall ring with the final section of Durch die Walder, from Weber's Der Freischutz. Baritone Gerald Finley tossed off Don Giovanni's Fin ch'han dal vino like the frisky party piece it is, and baritone Brett Polegato nearly stole the show with a strong and characterful performance of Figaro's cocky Largo al factotum, from Rossini's Barber of Seville.
Soprano Adrianne Pieczonka was the first to greet the hall, literally, with a gleaming performance of Wagner's Dich, teure Halle, from Tannhauser. Late in the show, she and Mr. Finley played the turbulent final scene from Tchaikovsky's Eugene Onegin, in full character if not in costume. This gave us, at last, a thrilling taste of what this hall is for, in a dramatic performance by two of Canada's greatest singers.
The pit stayed at its lowest position all night, which was good for Wagner, not so great for Mozart, Rossini and Delibes (represented by the inevitable duet from Lakmé, sung by Aline Kutan and Allyson McHardy). The COC will probably never play those composers from such a murky depth again.
The orchestra played alone twice, in a courtly excerpt from Richard Strauss's Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme, and in the Act III Prelude from Wagner's Lohengrin, which hinted at the power and delicacy of sound available from the hall's enormous pit.
The COC Chorus sang in several numbers, impressing with its power and unified sound. The concert ended with the final pages of Beethoven's Symphony No. 9, a piece famously performed by Wagner when the foundation stone for his opera house at Bayreuth was laid in 1872. At the close, our own Richard took the stage for a huge ovation, in a house that owes more to him than to anyone.
AoD
A
AlvinofDiaspar
Guest
And the Star:
Centre opens on a high note
Jun. 15, 2006. 09:14 AM
MARTIN KNELMAN
ENTERTAINMENT COLUMNIST
Last night's long-awaited gala opening concert at Toronto's new opera house was the cultural equivalent of the Leafs winning the Stanley Cup in overtime or the Blue Jays winning the World Series with a bases-loaded home run in the bottom of the ninth.
It was a grand night for singing at the acoustically pitch-perfect Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts, but this glittering occasion represented much more than that — marking the end of frustrating delays that went on for a quarter-century.
"This is just so exciting now that we're finally here," said author Margaret Atwood as she stepped from the red carpet into the $150-million building.
Since the early 1980s, a lot of funny and not-so-funny things have happened on the way to an opera house. For years, Toronto was known around the world as the city that could not get an opera house built.
But on this clear, warm June evening, the agony ended and the ecstasy began.
"This represents a belated flowering of the city," said Citytv co-founder Moses Znaimer, another guest at last night's gala. "People have finally figured out what money is for: You make it and you spend it on culture."
"I can't believe there's anyone in this city who doesn't embrace this place," said Isadore Sharp, whose Four Seasons Hotels and Resorts company paid $20 million for naming rights to the new house.
The cliché from the opera world is that it isn't over until the fat lady sings. But last night's event wasn't over until maestro Richard Bradshaw — the relentless Canadian Opera Company general manager, who crusaded for an opera house against daunting odds — raised his baton for the COC's stirring encore of the finale from Beethoven's Ninth Symphony.
There were no speeches and no intermission. During the ovations from the 2,000 first-nighters, one of the heroes of the occasion, architect Jack Diamond, looked on from his box.
Earlier in the evening, Diamond said, "Tonight you see everybody in black tie, but the great thing is that from now on, all kinds of people are going to be here in jeans."
He was less enthused when, arriving early, he saw flower arrangements all over the place, at the elegant beechwood screen separating the all-glass City Room from the auditorium.
"Oh my God, it looks like a funeral parlour," Diamond declared. The flowers were quickly moved to a discreet corner.
Among those who sang during the 90-minute concert was tenor Ben Heppner, a Toronto resident in demand at every major opera house around the world, who sang an aria from Weber's Der Freischutz.
Other performers included Adrianne Pieczonka, Aline Kutan, Allyson McHardy, Brett Polegato, Gerald Finely and Robert Pomakov. The program included selections from operas by Mozart, Rossini, Tchaikovsky, Verdi and Bellini.
Immediately after the concert, Bradshaw and the singers sprinted from the opera house at Queen St. and University Ave. to Nathan Phillips Square, where another audience was watching for free on huge video screens.
A seven-minute delay in the video feed made it possible for the performers to arrive at city hall as the concert was ending.
Among the 500 VIP guests who attended not only the concert but a post-concert onstage dinner was a veteran of what Bradshaw has dubbed Toronto's 30-year war to get an opera house.
That would be Hal Jackman, former lieutenant-governor of Ontario, who lost more than $1 million of his own money when an earlier proposed opera house, designed by Moshe Safdie, was cancelled in 1990.
Undeterred, Jackman has donated $5 million to the opera house that finally was built. In his honour, the patrons' lounge bears his name.
Before the concert, the Governor General Michaëlle Jean — accompanied by her husband Jean-Daniel Lafond — caused a buzz on the red carpet.
Other notables glimpsed by the crowd included Atwood; federal Finance Minister Jim Flaherty and his wife, Ontario MPP Christine Elliott; Ontario cabinet minister David Caplan; and embattled tycoon Conrad Black with wife Barbara Amiel.
Sharp led the parade of donors, accompanied by wife Rosalie Wise Sharp.
At the post-performance dinner — featuring cuisine by Mark McEwan (of North 44 and Bymark) — the city's elite dined onstage in a milieu created by award-winning set designer Susan Benson and lighting designer Michael Whitfield. Tables were draped with hand-dyed silk tablecloths and lit with long tapering candles.
As everyone present seemed acutely aware, the opening of Canada's first purpose-built opera house was truly a night for triumphal arias and champagne toasts.
AoD
Centre opens on a high note
Jun. 15, 2006. 09:14 AM
MARTIN KNELMAN
ENTERTAINMENT COLUMNIST
Last night's long-awaited gala opening concert at Toronto's new opera house was the cultural equivalent of the Leafs winning the Stanley Cup in overtime or the Blue Jays winning the World Series with a bases-loaded home run in the bottom of the ninth.
It was a grand night for singing at the acoustically pitch-perfect Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts, but this glittering occasion represented much more than that — marking the end of frustrating delays that went on for a quarter-century.
"This is just so exciting now that we're finally here," said author Margaret Atwood as she stepped from the red carpet into the $150-million building.
Since the early 1980s, a lot of funny and not-so-funny things have happened on the way to an opera house. For years, Toronto was known around the world as the city that could not get an opera house built.
But on this clear, warm June evening, the agony ended and the ecstasy began.
"This represents a belated flowering of the city," said Citytv co-founder Moses Znaimer, another guest at last night's gala. "People have finally figured out what money is for: You make it and you spend it on culture."
"I can't believe there's anyone in this city who doesn't embrace this place," said Isadore Sharp, whose Four Seasons Hotels and Resorts company paid $20 million for naming rights to the new house.
The cliché from the opera world is that it isn't over until the fat lady sings. But last night's event wasn't over until maestro Richard Bradshaw — the relentless Canadian Opera Company general manager, who crusaded for an opera house against daunting odds — raised his baton for the COC's stirring encore of the finale from Beethoven's Ninth Symphony.
There were no speeches and no intermission. During the ovations from the 2,000 first-nighters, one of the heroes of the occasion, architect Jack Diamond, looked on from his box.
Earlier in the evening, Diamond said, "Tonight you see everybody in black tie, but the great thing is that from now on, all kinds of people are going to be here in jeans."
He was less enthused when, arriving early, he saw flower arrangements all over the place, at the elegant beechwood screen separating the all-glass City Room from the auditorium.
"Oh my God, it looks like a funeral parlour," Diamond declared. The flowers were quickly moved to a discreet corner.
Among those who sang during the 90-minute concert was tenor Ben Heppner, a Toronto resident in demand at every major opera house around the world, who sang an aria from Weber's Der Freischutz.
Other performers included Adrianne Pieczonka, Aline Kutan, Allyson McHardy, Brett Polegato, Gerald Finely and Robert Pomakov. The program included selections from operas by Mozart, Rossini, Tchaikovsky, Verdi and Bellini.
Immediately after the concert, Bradshaw and the singers sprinted from the opera house at Queen St. and University Ave. to Nathan Phillips Square, where another audience was watching for free on huge video screens.
A seven-minute delay in the video feed made it possible for the performers to arrive at city hall as the concert was ending.
Among the 500 VIP guests who attended not only the concert but a post-concert onstage dinner was a veteran of what Bradshaw has dubbed Toronto's 30-year war to get an opera house.
That would be Hal Jackman, former lieutenant-governor of Ontario, who lost more than $1 million of his own money when an earlier proposed opera house, designed by Moshe Safdie, was cancelled in 1990.
Undeterred, Jackman has donated $5 million to the opera house that finally was built. In his honour, the patrons' lounge bears his name.
Before the concert, the Governor General Michaëlle Jean — accompanied by her husband Jean-Daniel Lafond — caused a buzz on the red carpet.
Other notables glimpsed by the crowd included Atwood; federal Finance Minister Jim Flaherty and his wife, Ontario MPP Christine Elliott; Ontario cabinet minister David Caplan; and embattled tycoon Conrad Black with wife Barbara Amiel.
Sharp led the parade of donors, accompanied by wife Rosalie Wise Sharp.
At the post-performance dinner — featuring cuisine by Mark McEwan (of North 44 and Bymark) — the city's elite dined onstage in a milieu created by award-winning set designer Susan Benson and lighting designer Michael Whitfield. Tables were draped with hand-dyed silk tablecloths and lit with long tapering candles.
As everyone present seemed acutely aware, the opening of Canada's first purpose-built opera house was truly a night for triumphal arias and champagne toasts.
AoD
A
AlvinofDiaspar
Guest
Another article from the Star:
Gala was grand, now for a party
Jun. 15, 2006. 12:17 AM
JOHN TERAUDS
CLASSICAL MUSIC CRITIC
The crowd gathered at the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts last night for the gala opening of our new opera house was out for a good time.
The gowns shimmered, the tuxes were perfectly creased. Jewels glittered as the "Mwah! Mwah!" of air kisses blew left and right.
One lane of Richmond St. W. was blocked for valet parking, and the sidewalk along Queen St. W. had security men in black tie placed strategically to keep out the uninvited.
There was an air of expectation, a buzz that wouldn't let up. Only when the house lights were turned off 15 minutes after the expected opening time did everyone actually sit down.
The capacity audience of 2,000 greeted Canadian Opera Company general director, and last night's conductor, Richard Bradshaw with a massive roar of approval. The cry would have been heard all the way to the Eaton Centre — had the new opera house not been soundproof.
The 75-minute concert featured arias by a clutch of Canada's most able singers, including soprano Adrienne Pieczonka, tenor Ben Heppner and baritones Gerald Finley and Brett Polegato. There were choruses from the resident ensemble, and an orchestral interlude.
The music was well performed and sounded excellent in R. Fraser Elliott Hall. The warm, mellow, clear tone was reminiscent of the fine Mercury Living Presence recordings of yore.
After the performers had struck the last chord of Beethoven's Ode to Joy, which closed the evening, my next-seat neighbour turned to me and said, "That was good."
He meant it. And it's certain that all the others sitting in the auditorium thought the same.
But this was Toronto's moment of operatic greatness. After such a long and difficult gestation, the city now has one of the world's finest opera houses for both performer and audience member alike.
Last night should have been better than "good."
The performances were first-rate, but the stolid music — and what could be more stolid than Beethoven's Ode to Joy? — lacked an element of celebration, of comedy or lightness to capture what should be the city's happiest high-cultural moment in a generation.
And there wasn't a single Canadian piece on the program.
The stage was decorated with dowdy off-white drapes and a washed-out sepia backdrop of indistinctly sketched opera composers. Only the brightly bedecked female soloists saved the stage from drabness.
Of course, there's much real opera to come, starting with Wagner's Ring Cycle at the end of the summer.
But we should have the musical equivalent of a real party in there sometime before that.
Bring out the Bernstein, the Offenbach and let's let loose.
AoD
Gala was grand, now for a party
Jun. 15, 2006. 12:17 AM
JOHN TERAUDS
CLASSICAL MUSIC CRITIC
The crowd gathered at the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts last night for the gala opening of our new opera house was out for a good time.
The gowns shimmered, the tuxes were perfectly creased. Jewels glittered as the "Mwah! Mwah!" of air kisses blew left and right.
One lane of Richmond St. W. was blocked for valet parking, and the sidewalk along Queen St. W. had security men in black tie placed strategically to keep out the uninvited.
There was an air of expectation, a buzz that wouldn't let up. Only when the house lights were turned off 15 minutes after the expected opening time did everyone actually sit down.
The capacity audience of 2,000 greeted Canadian Opera Company general director, and last night's conductor, Richard Bradshaw with a massive roar of approval. The cry would have been heard all the way to the Eaton Centre — had the new opera house not been soundproof.
The 75-minute concert featured arias by a clutch of Canada's most able singers, including soprano Adrienne Pieczonka, tenor Ben Heppner and baritones Gerald Finley and Brett Polegato. There were choruses from the resident ensemble, and an orchestral interlude.
The music was well performed and sounded excellent in R. Fraser Elliott Hall. The warm, mellow, clear tone was reminiscent of the fine Mercury Living Presence recordings of yore.
After the performers had struck the last chord of Beethoven's Ode to Joy, which closed the evening, my next-seat neighbour turned to me and said, "That was good."
He meant it. And it's certain that all the others sitting in the auditorium thought the same.
But this was Toronto's moment of operatic greatness. After such a long and difficult gestation, the city now has one of the world's finest opera houses for both performer and audience member alike.
Last night should have been better than "good."
The performances were first-rate, but the stolid music — and what could be more stolid than Beethoven's Ode to Joy? — lacked an element of celebration, of comedy or lightness to capture what should be the city's happiest high-cultural moment in a generation.
And there wasn't a single Canadian piece on the program.
The stage was decorated with dowdy off-white drapes and a washed-out sepia backdrop of indistinctly sketched opera composers. Only the brightly bedecked female soloists saved the stage from drabness.
Of course, there's much real opera to come, starting with Wagner's Ring Cycle at the end of the summer.
But we should have the musical equivalent of a real party in there sometime before that.
Bring out the Bernstein, the Offenbach and let's let loose.
AoD
C
Copper1212
Guest
This was posted on SSC. Can someone tell me what is going on with the white panels?
A
AlvinofDiaspar
Guest
Cu1212:
I think they are the motorized sunshades that lowers automatically to reduce heat gain in the City Room.
AoD
I think they are the motorized sunshades that lowers automatically to reduce heat gain in the City Room.
AoD
A
AlvinofDiaspar
Guest
A pretty glowing review by R. Ouelette in the Post:
A house for performers, audiences
Building takes Toronto to the opera big leagues
Staircase at the Four Seasons Centre for Performing Arts.
Robert Ouelette, National Post
Published: Friday, June 16, 2006
I went to the gala launch of the Canadian Opera Company's new home Wednesday night. Here is the quick architectural review: The Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts gives Toronto one of the world's great opera houses.
Why?
Serious opera fans and strident architectural critics can turn the page now or risk offence. If, to the horror of purists, Bugs Bunny cartoons introduce generations of kids to the pleasures of opera, a baseball team might just be the vehicle needed to provide insight into why, in spite of some faults, the Four Seasons Centre is a successful building.
A few years back, the Oakland A's were perennial losers. They did not have the money to compete for high-priced talent. The team had no stars. Conventional thinkers said they belonged in baseball's backwater. Then the A's hired a manager who changed the way the team thought about talent. The team found good, solid players whose stats said they could perform, and built a team without stars. Guess what? They won, and changed the game while they were at it.
Sound familiar? When the COC secured a corner site at one of the city's premier intersections, many thought superstar architect Frank Gehry should design an iconic opera house there to rival Sydney's. That would have been wonderful. The COC did not have much of a budget for the building. $150-million was it. High-priced home run hitter Gehry got pulled.
COC conductor and general director, Richard Bradshaw, and the COC board decided Canada had the cultural talent to make an internationally successful opera centre in spite of a minimal budget. They commissioned Toronto architecture firm Diamond and Schmidt to design and build a house as good as any in the world. Not that the architects are without accomplishments --they do exceptional work -- it is just that many thought Toronto needed more money and superstars to take on New York's Met.
Wednesday night's opening proved doubters wrong.
The designers built an opera house for both performers and audiences. Even from my slightly awkward perch on the upper side of the auditorium, the sight lines were good. The sound was better. The performers had me with O Canada. By the time the encore Beethoven's 9th finished, the audience and the performers knew they had all shared in a special moment.
Diamond and Schmidt architects, theatre designers Fischer Dachs, and acoustician Bob Essert made their collaboration work. The place does its job. Toronto is now an opera destination thanks to their teamwork.
What about the rest of the building? Some complain it is not as iconic as the ROM's Libeskind Crystal or Gehry's AGO. That is true. This building is quiet. The Four Seasons Centre may owe its genesis to a Scandinavian design notion that insists the people who use a building should give it its outward life. Without people, the glass-enclosed circulation spaces are too sparse, even brittle feeling. Some details could have used a bigger budget. There is no doubt about it.
However, as Wednesday's gala illustrated, people breathe life into the place. In fact, the building has two audiences: those who attend the performance and those who walk or drive by. That was the designers' intention.
Passersby on Queen and University experience a spectacle of movement and colour when audiences flood the building's reception areas. Inside, on the other hand, patrons can indulge in the centuries-old act of promenading. Did you see what Lady Black was wearing? Was that Margaret Atwood?
Diamond's glass staircase is the architectural device orchestrating the audience's performance. An engineering achievement, it becomes a transitory stage when crowds of people use it to move down the atrium from one level to another.
For the first time in Toronto's performance history, we have a major social space that elevates the audience to the level of players. That alone is worth the price of admission. It is so damn democratic too - Oh Canada.
There are design problems that critics are right to point out. For the budget, though, this building, Richard Bradshaw insists, takes Toronto to the top of the opera big leagues. That, as is said in the game, ''ain't bad.''
© National Post 2006
AoD
A house for performers, audiences
Building takes Toronto to the opera big leagues
Staircase at the Four Seasons Centre for Performing Arts.
Robert Ouelette, National Post
Published: Friday, June 16, 2006
I went to the gala launch of the Canadian Opera Company's new home Wednesday night. Here is the quick architectural review: The Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts gives Toronto one of the world's great opera houses.
Why?
Serious opera fans and strident architectural critics can turn the page now or risk offence. If, to the horror of purists, Bugs Bunny cartoons introduce generations of kids to the pleasures of opera, a baseball team might just be the vehicle needed to provide insight into why, in spite of some faults, the Four Seasons Centre is a successful building.
A few years back, the Oakland A's were perennial losers. They did not have the money to compete for high-priced talent. The team had no stars. Conventional thinkers said they belonged in baseball's backwater. Then the A's hired a manager who changed the way the team thought about talent. The team found good, solid players whose stats said they could perform, and built a team without stars. Guess what? They won, and changed the game while they were at it.
Sound familiar? When the COC secured a corner site at one of the city's premier intersections, many thought superstar architect Frank Gehry should design an iconic opera house there to rival Sydney's. That would have been wonderful. The COC did not have much of a budget for the building. $150-million was it. High-priced home run hitter Gehry got pulled.
COC conductor and general director, Richard Bradshaw, and the COC board decided Canada had the cultural talent to make an internationally successful opera centre in spite of a minimal budget. They commissioned Toronto architecture firm Diamond and Schmidt to design and build a house as good as any in the world. Not that the architects are without accomplishments --they do exceptional work -- it is just that many thought Toronto needed more money and superstars to take on New York's Met.
Wednesday night's opening proved doubters wrong.
The designers built an opera house for both performers and audiences. Even from my slightly awkward perch on the upper side of the auditorium, the sight lines were good. The sound was better. The performers had me with O Canada. By the time the encore Beethoven's 9th finished, the audience and the performers knew they had all shared in a special moment.
Diamond and Schmidt architects, theatre designers Fischer Dachs, and acoustician Bob Essert made their collaboration work. The place does its job. Toronto is now an opera destination thanks to their teamwork.
What about the rest of the building? Some complain it is not as iconic as the ROM's Libeskind Crystal or Gehry's AGO. That is true. This building is quiet. The Four Seasons Centre may owe its genesis to a Scandinavian design notion that insists the people who use a building should give it its outward life. Without people, the glass-enclosed circulation spaces are too sparse, even brittle feeling. Some details could have used a bigger budget. There is no doubt about it.
However, as Wednesday's gala illustrated, people breathe life into the place. In fact, the building has two audiences: those who attend the performance and those who walk or drive by. That was the designers' intention.
Passersby on Queen and University experience a spectacle of movement and colour when audiences flood the building's reception areas. Inside, on the other hand, patrons can indulge in the centuries-old act of promenading. Did you see what Lady Black was wearing? Was that Margaret Atwood?
Diamond's glass staircase is the architectural device orchestrating the audience's performance. An engineering achievement, it becomes a transitory stage when crowds of people use it to move down the atrium from one level to another.
For the first time in Toronto's performance history, we have a major social space that elevates the audience to the level of players. That alone is worth the price of admission. It is so damn democratic too - Oh Canada.
There are design problems that critics are right to point out. For the budget, though, this building, Richard Bradshaw insists, takes Toronto to the top of the opera big leagues. That, as is said in the game, ''ain't bad.''
© National Post 2006
AoD
B
building babel
Guest
I saw 'Post' man Michael Crabb at the Gala, and I assume he'll be doing a column on how the building performs when the Ballet take the stage next week.
A
adma
Guest
And if he gives it a bad review...
A
AlvinofDiaspar
Guest
Lisa Rochon's critique in the Globe:
FOUR SEASONS CENTRE FOR THE PERFORMING ARTS
Outside blah, inside awe
While the exterior brick wrap is mean to the street, the interior of the new opera house is nothing short of triumphant, writes LISA ROCHON
LISA ROCHON
A building is not a one-walled affair. And yet, from the outside, this is what we are expected to believe of the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts. So regular, so hard, so profane are the brick elevations running along Queen Street West, Richmond Street and York Street in downtown Toronto that the building and its significance as Canada's first opera house disappear from civic consciousness. The monumental glass wall is an exhilarating addition to University Avenue, but it can hardly be expected to forgive all. A touch of the spectacular on all four sides of the centre would have gone a long way to argue the noble cause of culture.
On the day of the opera's gala opening this week, architect Jack Diamond asserted that "cities are made up of continuities, not discontinuities." On this point, he and I have long differed. To my mind, cities are made up of continuities and discontinuities. Architecture tames a city. It can create order from disorder. But, without moments of civic grandeur that stand apart from the rest, a city loses itself to systems of sameness.
Given a commission of cultural import, the role of the architect is to make us believe in something that feels larger than ourselves, bigger than life itself.
Toronto owes much to the grounded, sensible work of Diamond, an architect and urban virtuoso. For his sharply argued lessons on urbanism, on how to carve squares and courtyards into the block, on how to use architecture as a democratic, caring enterprise, architects in Canada and, further afield, in the United States, owe part of their edification.
The opera house is an honest work by Diamond, one that carries his signature of architecture reduced to a minimum of gestures, and, always, the hard muscle of the brick wall. The crisp, planar ribbon is essentially what Diamond has been delivering for decades. At 1.7 acres, the site for the Four Seasons Centre is tight but hardly impossible. Consider the tiny sliver of space accorded to New York's American Folk Art Museum, for which architects Tod Williams and Billie Tsien marked a place of staggering, sculpted difference. In our own backyard, there are fine examples of how to create an exhilarating built presence on tight sites. Massey College (1963), designed by Ron Thom for the University of Toronto, enchants for its slot windows hidden behind pleated brick walls, creating a tremendous, subtle dance that runs tight to the sidewalk.
As for the Four Seasons Centre, there is plenty of good news: Behind that monumental glass wall is a space that deserves its name, the City Room. Within it is the impossibility of a three-storey glass staircase beautifully engineered by Halcrow Yolles; grand, airy landing pads with maple floors; bars designed as lean, white racing tracks.
The City Room is a 21st-century version of Union Station's Great Hall, alive with optimism for the arts and a kinetic energy of people travelling through space to watch opera or ballet. Subtle entertainment is provided by the shadows cast by patrons on the room's vast, curved screen constructed of thin horizontal pieces of beech wood.
The German glass panels of the curtain wall are perfectly transparent, and suspended steel crosses laterally braced by horizontal glass shelves are rigorous and clean in detail. Similar, honest strategies of transparency are used for the glazing of Jackman Hall, the special-events room, and in the ballet rehearsal hall, both of which overlook the enchanting wrought-iron fence and urban forest of Osgoode Hall.
Diamond, principal of Diamond + Schmitt Architects, has masterminded an elegant unfolding of space, paying attention to ceremonial arrival, and room to socialize before a performance begins. Project architects Gary McKluskie, Matthew Lella and Michael Treacy were key to the centre's design.
But pity the people on the fourth and fifth levels. To get down from there, patrons can choose either to manoeuvre down the glass stairs -- not everybody's cup of tea -- or to press along one side of the wooden stairs leading to the third floor. These are mostly overscaled to serve as seating for afternoon concerts; only one narrow flank operates as a conventional stair.
On opening night, the elevators were unable to keep up, so the crowd was thick and intense as it filed slowly down the narrow stairs. Some youthful adventurers broke from rank to attempt large cowboy footfalls down the bench steps, turning the elegance of the night into a moment of commedia dell'arte.
While the exterior brick wrap is mean to the street, the interior of the house is triumphant. The R. Fraser Elliott Hall is a 2,043-seat horseshoe-shaped auditorium. That means that its shape has taken cues from La Scala in Milan and the Palais Garnier in Paris. But next to the red-velvet and gilded extravaganazas, the Toronto house is a restrained invention of dulcet tones.
Here, Diamond, prodded by acoustician Bob Essert, has produced a space enlivened by curving plaster walls and balustrades. The ceiling, a kind of sliced-open oyster, is teh most exultant gesture in the hall, and a delight to behold. Beyond its dramatic effect, the sculptural piece has been cut apart to discreetly accomodate a catwalk, loudspeakers for future, amplified performances, and lighting.
Though organic architecture is not part of Diamond's usual vocabulary, it is mostly articulated with elegance and credibility. Careful attention has been paid to creating the bone-like shape of the handrails. The vestibules that lead to private boxes are sensuous, intimate rooms. The floor undernath the upper-gallery seating has been curved up or down to allow for clear sightlines anywhere in the house, an innovative gesture on the part of the collaborating consultants.
Once upon a time, opera houses were lit by oil maps, with the orchestra playing alongside long dining tables where, in the foyer, gamblers placed bets at the casino. Places for the poor were formally set aside. The Italians call them the loggione, from which unhappy patrons whistle their discontent for any performer who dares to mishandle an aria. The upper gallery, also known as the chicken run at the Teatro Colon in Buneos Aires, is still hugely popular, allowing patrons to watch, standing up, for less than a dollar. We've come a long way since then, or have we?
What's been delieved these days are pristine cathedrals of Puritan conduct and acoustical science. One of the achievements of the Four Seasons Centre is the much-discussed, much-heralded acoustics by Essert of the London-based Sound Space Design. The N-1 rating means that a hall free of background noise has been created, a standard that required the physical separation of the building from its concrete foundation, to prevention any vibration from the subway.
The idea is to allow a white canvas for the performer to float their sound back, sideways or up and down throughout the hall. The same kind of strategy is being used for the new concert halls of the Royal Conservatory of Music, designed by Marianne McKenna of Kuwabara Payne McKenna Blumberg Architects in consultation with Essert, and currently under construction.
Other measures were taken by the opera-and-ballet house to create a voluptuous sound while allowing lyrics to be clearly understood. There is no carpet, only maple flooring. The chorus can now, finally, sing softly, bouche fermee, and capture the purity of gentle, soulful sound. On opening night, when they sang the final strains of Va Pensiiero, the national anthem of opera, and held the last note for a very long time, there was nothing but music that mattered. The hall had entirely disappeared.
In the world of culture, the making of an opera house is a rare, often painful event, provoked by fire, the social aspirations of the wealthy and/or a public's sheer love of music. The vision and tenacity of general director Richard Bradshaw cannot be overemphasized. He has built of a house of inspired performance, but it took him about 20 years to wrestle it to the ground.
Any time a new opera house comes along, there is a reaction from the public. A retired friend, nuts for Wagner's Ring cycle, argues that he'd go to opera in a cardbox box if the sound was good. Another friend, who bikes alongside the Four Seasons on her way to work, says the banality of the new house has convinced her to abandon her opera tickets. Two lawyers I know scoff at the views from their offices - the back loading docks with their green dumpsters.
Though deceptively ordinary on the outside, the case has to be made for the significance of the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts, and argued with conviction. Cars should be flagged down, pedestrians should be stopped in their tracks and the whole madding crowd escorted inside by burly security guards. The future of opera and ballet depends on all those people who were absent on opening night.
AoD
FOUR SEASONS CENTRE FOR THE PERFORMING ARTS
Outside blah, inside awe
While the exterior brick wrap is mean to the street, the interior of the new opera house is nothing short of triumphant, writes LISA ROCHON
LISA ROCHON
A building is not a one-walled affair. And yet, from the outside, this is what we are expected to believe of the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts. So regular, so hard, so profane are the brick elevations running along Queen Street West, Richmond Street and York Street in downtown Toronto that the building and its significance as Canada's first opera house disappear from civic consciousness. The monumental glass wall is an exhilarating addition to University Avenue, but it can hardly be expected to forgive all. A touch of the spectacular on all four sides of the centre would have gone a long way to argue the noble cause of culture.
On the day of the opera's gala opening this week, architect Jack Diamond asserted that "cities are made up of continuities, not discontinuities." On this point, he and I have long differed. To my mind, cities are made up of continuities and discontinuities. Architecture tames a city. It can create order from disorder. But, without moments of civic grandeur that stand apart from the rest, a city loses itself to systems of sameness.
Given a commission of cultural import, the role of the architect is to make us believe in something that feels larger than ourselves, bigger than life itself.
Toronto owes much to the grounded, sensible work of Diamond, an architect and urban virtuoso. For his sharply argued lessons on urbanism, on how to carve squares and courtyards into the block, on how to use architecture as a democratic, caring enterprise, architects in Canada and, further afield, in the United States, owe part of their edification.
The opera house is an honest work by Diamond, one that carries his signature of architecture reduced to a minimum of gestures, and, always, the hard muscle of the brick wall. The crisp, planar ribbon is essentially what Diamond has been delivering for decades. At 1.7 acres, the site for the Four Seasons Centre is tight but hardly impossible. Consider the tiny sliver of space accorded to New York's American Folk Art Museum, for which architects Tod Williams and Billie Tsien marked a place of staggering, sculpted difference. In our own backyard, there are fine examples of how to create an exhilarating built presence on tight sites. Massey College (1963), designed by Ron Thom for the University of Toronto, enchants for its slot windows hidden behind pleated brick walls, creating a tremendous, subtle dance that runs tight to the sidewalk.
As for the Four Seasons Centre, there is plenty of good news: Behind that monumental glass wall is a space that deserves its name, the City Room. Within it is the impossibility of a three-storey glass staircase beautifully engineered by Halcrow Yolles; grand, airy landing pads with maple floors; bars designed as lean, white racing tracks.
The City Room is a 21st-century version of Union Station's Great Hall, alive with optimism for the arts and a kinetic energy of people travelling through space to watch opera or ballet. Subtle entertainment is provided by the shadows cast by patrons on the room's vast, curved screen constructed of thin horizontal pieces of beech wood.
The German glass panels of the curtain wall are perfectly transparent, and suspended steel crosses laterally braced by horizontal glass shelves are rigorous and clean in detail. Similar, honest strategies of transparency are used for the glazing of Jackman Hall, the special-events room, and in the ballet rehearsal hall, both of which overlook the enchanting wrought-iron fence and urban forest of Osgoode Hall.
Diamond, principal of Diamond + Schmitt Architects, has masterminded an elegant unfolding of space, paying attention to ceremonial arrival, and room to socialize before a performance begins. Project architects Gary McKluskie, Matthew Lella and Michael Treacy were key to the centre's design.
But pity the people on the fourth and fifth levels. To get down from there, patrons can choose either to manoeuvre down the glass stairs -- not everybody's cup of tea -- or to press along one side of the wooden stairs leading to the third floor. These are mostly overscaled to serve as seating for afternoon concerts; only one narrow flank operates as a conventional stair.
On opening night, the elevators were unable to keep up, so the crowd was thick and intense as it filed slowly down the narrow stairs. Some youthful adventurers broke from rank to attempt large cowboy footfalls down the bench steps, turning the elegance of the night into a moment of commedia dell'arte.
While the exterior brick wrap is mean to the street, the interior of the house is triumphant. The R. Fraser Elliott Hall is a 2,043-seat horseshoe-shaped auditorium. That means that its shape has taken cues from La Scala in Milan and the Palais Garnier in Paris. But next to the red-velvet and gilded extravaganazas, the Toronto house is a restrained invention of dulcet tones.
Here, Diamond, prodded by acoustician Bob Essert, has produced a space enlivened by curving plaster walls and balustrades. The ceiling, a kind of sliced-open oyster, is teh most exultant gesture in the hall, and a delight to behold. Beyond its dramatic effect, the sculptural piece has been cut apart to discreetly accomodate a catwalk, loudspeakers for future, amplified performances, and lighting.
Though organic architecture is not part of Diamond's usual vocabulary, it is mostly articulated with elegance and credibility. Careful attention has been paid to creating the bone-like shape of the handrails. The vestibules that lead to private boxes are sensuous, intimate rooms. The floor undernath the upper-gallery seating has been curved up or down to allow for clear sightlines anywhere in the house, an innovative gesture on the part of the collaborating consultants.
Once upon a time, opera houses were lit by oil maps, with the orchestra playing alongside long dining tables where, in the foyer, gamblers placed bets at the casino. Places for the poor were formally set aside. The Italians call them the loggione, from which unhappy patrons whistle their discontent for any performer who dares to mishandle an aria. The upper gallery, also known as the chicken run at the Teatro Colon in Buneos Aires, is still hugely popular, allowing patrons to watch, standing up, for less than a dollar. We've come a long way since then, or have we?
What's been delieved these days are pristine cathedrals of Puritan conduct and acoustical science. One of the achievements of the Four Seasons Centre is the much-discussed, much-heralded acoustics by Essert of the London-based Sound Space Design. The N-1 rating means that a hall free of background noise has been created, a standard that required the physical separation of the building from its concrete foundation, to prevention any vibration from the subway.
The idea is to allow a white canvas for the performer to float their sound back, sideways or up and down throughout the hall. The same kind of strategy is being used for the new concert halls of the Royal Conservatory of Music, designed by Marianne McKenna of Kuwabara Payne McKenna Blumberg Architects in consultation with Essert, and currently under construction.
Other measures were taken by the opera-and-ballet house to create a voluptuous sound while allowing lyrics to be clearly understood. There is no carpet, only maple flooring. The chorus can now, finally, sing softly, bouche fermee, and capture the purity of gentle, soulful sound. On opening night, when they sang the final strains of Va Pensiiero, the national anthem of opera, and held the last note for a very long time, there was nothing but music that mattered. The hall had entirely disappeared.
In the world of culture, the making of an opera house is a rare, often painful event, provoked by fire, the social aspirations of the wealthy and/or a public's sheer love of music. The vision and tenacity of general director Richard Bradshaw cannot be overemphasized. He has built of a house of inspired performance, but it took him about 20 years to wrestle it to the ground.
Any time a new opera house comes along, there is a reaction from the public. A retired friend, nuts for Wagner's Ring cycle, argues that he'd go to opera in a cardbox box if the sound was good. Another friend, who bikes alongside the Four Seasons on her way to work, says the banality of the new house has convinced her to abandon her opera tickets. Two lawyers I know scoff at the views from their offices - the back loading docks with their green dumpsters.
Though deceptively ordinary on the outside, the case has to be made for the significance of the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts, and argued with conviction. Cars should be flagged down, pedestrians should be stopped in their tracks and the whole madding crowd escorted inside by burly security guards. The future of opera and ballet depends on all those people who were absent on opening night.
AoD
A
AlvinofDiaspar
Guest
And John Barber's commentary, from the Globe:
A cold city finally finds its heart
JOHN BARBER
Pierre Trudeau once wrote that Toronto had no heart, no single place that epitomized and symbolized the city -- no Place d'Armes, in other words. Montreal was founded as a religious mission and remains full of passion. Toronto is a cold, commercial city.
But could it be that we are beginning to see our own modest version of that important organ emerge along grand though bloodless University Avenue? I couldn't help wondering about that while watching the construction of the new Four Seasons Centre and, kitty-corner across the avenue, the latest superb addition to the Canada Life campus, best known for the blinking weather beacon atop the limestone spire of its tallest building.
Almost all the pieces are now in place on those four corners, and if they are less than grand -- the smart set has expressed considerable disappointment with the modesty of the new opera house -- they are typically, even evocatively Torontonian. Looking down and around through the glorious glass walls of the Four Seasons Centre, you can see them come together.
Once again, architect Jack Diamond has shown himself to be a master place maker. The Four Seasons Centre is designed more to be looked into and looked out of than merely to be looked at. It presents itself less as an object than the completion of a tableau that was scarcely detectable before it arrived. It is a hall rather than the palace our plutocrats once imagined -- rigorously modest and, in the context of the four corners its completes, brilliantly evocative of this city's essentially civic spirit.
One welcome effect of the new addition is its rescue of the overlooked, unfashionable 1958 Bank of Canada building immediately across University, on the south side of Queen Street. "Superbly proportional, made of enduring materials, and skillfully detailed, the [building] is a refined work of architecture," according to a jury that singled it out more than a decade ago as a model of urban design -- and a welcome "critique in relation to the inappropriate grandstand architecture that has been spread, higgledy-piggledy, along University Avenue."
Now, it has company in that cause, a new neighbour that expands the critique into a precinct, helping to create an oasis of civility in the barrens.
Just as helpful is the swank new office tower by architect Tom Payne that marks the precinct's western border, completing the campus of buildings that began 75 years ago with the now-beloved Canada Life headquarters -- the only real evidence of the "City Beautiful" vision that inspired University Avenue.
The Payne building is splashier, yet even more contextual than the opera house, fitting respectfully into the historic ensemble without mimicking it, exemplifying a characteristically Torontonian approach to postmodern design. In that sense, one of its most dramatic effects is to create a beautiful frame for the modest Georgian villa, known as Campbell House, that has shivered disconsolately on the northwest corner of Queen and University since being moved there more than 30 years ago from its original location in the old town.
Now, it clearly belongs, both as a place and as part of a cultural narrative, exemplifying the domestic ideal that has dominated the local imagination since the beginning -- and which is still being elaborated, one red-brick villa at a time, on the modern city's most distant fringes.
Across University to the east, gorgeous Osgoode Hall is even more deeply founded. The New England pilgrims famously created Harvard College within a few years of landing in the New World. Virtually the first act of the American refugees who landed on our shores more than a century later was to create the Law Society of Upper Canada, with an elaborate courts system extending the authority of the law throughout the howling wilderness -- followed soon after by an aristocratic headquarters surrounded by gates to keep the cows out.
There the great wrought-iron gates remain, forever protecting the shady grounds (if not the bench) from wayward ruminants.
It might seem strange for an opera house to fit in so well here among these founding ideals: Across from sober and stately commerce, expressed in such self-confidently permanent form, facing off against the dream of perfect privacy, audaciously overlooking grim law in its most elegant guise. It is certainly telling that Toronto took so long to create a purpose-built opera house.
Yet, as it turns out, there was a place waiting for it all along -- not on some remote promontory awaiting a postcard-friendly icon -- but here, in the heart of the city.
Looking down on it all from the vantage point of the Four Seasons Centre's aptly named City Room a few weeks ago, I complimented Mr. Diamond on the symbolic precinct he helped to create. "It's coming along," he replied, meaning that the work to be done is just as obvious as the recent accomplishments.
The biggest problem is the heart of the heart: the green though barren boulevard that runs up and down University, with stunted trees and fountains painted like swimming pools. This is where the life of the street belongs -- yet the boulevard is so weak.
Do we really need eight lanes, two set aside for curb parking, slashing through the heart of the city? Widening the green boulevard would transform a median into a park. The shadow of the Boer War memorial is the best untaken location for an outdoor café in the city.
But these things take time. It has taken the city more than 200 years to assemble this most characteristic account of itself. The remarkable thing is how coherent and inevitable it now seems: a clear story of deep continuity in a cold, new city.
AoD
A cold city finally finds its heart
JOHN BARBER
Pierre Trudeau once wrote that Toronto had no heart, no single place that epitomized and symbolized the city -- no Place d'Armes, in other words. Montreal was founded as a religious mission and remains full of passion. Toronto is a cold, commercial city.
But could it be that we are beginning to see our own modest version of that important organ emerge along grand though bloodless University Avenue? I couldn't help wondering about that while watching the construction of the new Four Seasons Centre and, kitty-corner across the avenue, the latest superb addition to the Canada Life campus, best known for the blinking weather beacon atop the limestone spire of its tallest building.
Almost all the pieces are now in place on those four corners, and if they are less than grand -- the smart set has expressed considerable disappointment with the modesty of the new opera house -- they are typically, even evocatively Torontonian. Looking down and around through the glorious glass walls of the Four Seasons Centre, you can see them come together.
Once again, architect Jack Diamond has shown himself to be a master place maker. The Four Seasons Centre is designed more to be looked into and looked out of than merely to be looked at. It presents itself less as an object than the completion of a tableau that was scarcely detectable before it arrived. It is a hall rather than the palace our plutocrats once imagined -- rigorously modest and, in the context of the four corners its completes, brilliantly evocative of this city's essentially civic spirit.
One welcome effect of the new addition is its rescue of the overlooked, unfashionable 1958 Bank of Canada building immediately across University, on the south side of Queen Street. "Superbly proportional, made of enduring materials, and skillfully detailed, the [building] is a refined work of architecture," according to a jury that singled it out more than a decade ago as a model of urban design -- and a welcome "critique in relation to the inappropriate grandstand architecture that has been spread, higgledy-piggledy, along University Avenue."
Now, it has company in that cause, a new neighbour that expands the critique into a precinct, helping to create an oasis of civility in the barrens.
Just as helpful is the swank new office tower by architect Tom Payne that marks the precinct's western border, completing the campus of buildings that began 75 years ago with the now-beloved Canada Life headquarters -- the only real evidence of the "City Beautiful" vision that inspired University Avenue.
The Payne building is splashier, yet even more contextual than the opera house, fitting respectfully into the historic ensemble without mimicking it, exemplifying a characteristically Torontonian approach to postmodern design. In that sense, one of its most dramatic effects is to create a beautiful frame for the modest Georgian villa, known as Campbell House, that has shivered disconsolately on the northwest corner of Queen and University since being moved there more than 30 years ago from its original location in the old town.
Now, it clearly belongs, both as a place and as part of a cultural narrative, exemplifying the domestic ideal that has dominated the local imagination since the beginning -- and which is still being elaborated, one red-brick villa at a time, on the modern city's most distant fringes.
Across University to the east, gorgeous Osgoode Hall is even more deeply founded. The New England pilgrims famously created Harvard College within a few years of landing in the New World. Virtually the first act of the American refugees who landed on our shores more than a century later was to create the Law Society of Upper Canada, with an elaborate courts system extending the authority of the law throughout the howling wilderness -- followed soon after by an aristocratic headquarters surrounded by gates to keep the cows out.
There the great wrought-iron gates remain, forever protecting the shady grounds (if not the bench) from wayward ruminants.
It might seem strange for an opera house to fit in so well here among these founding ideals: Across from sober and stately commerce, expressed in such self-confidently permanent form, facing off against the dream of perfect privacy, audaciously overlooking grim law in its most elegant guise. It is certainly telling that Toronto took so long to create a purpose-built opera house.
Yet, as it turns out, there was a place waiting for it all along -- not on some remote promontory awaiting a postcard-friendly icon -- but here, in the heart of the city.
Looking down on it all from the vantage point of the Four Seasons Centre's aptly named City Room a few weeks ago, I complimented Mr. Diamond on the symbolic precinct he helped to create. "It's coming along," he replied, meaning that the work to be done is just as obvious as the recent accomplishments.
The biggest problem is the heart of the heart: the green though barren boulevard that runs up and down University, with stunted trees and fountains painted like swimming pools. This is where the life of the street belongs -- yet the boulevard is so weak.
Do we really need eight lanes, two set aside for curb parking, slashing through the heart of the city? Widening the green boulevard would transform a median into a park. The shadow of the Boer War memorial is the best untaken location for an outdoor café in the city.
But these things take time. It has taken the city more than 200 years to assemble this most characteristic account of itself. The remarkable thing is how coherent and inevitable it now seems: a clear story of deep continuity in a cold, new city.
AoD
M
MetroMan1000
Guest
This is the point I've been making: both the interior and the exterior matter. You shouldn't have to convince people to come inside, they should be lured in by the beauty of what is outside.
The good news is that there seems to be a general consensus: people love the acoustics and the beautiful interior. They dislike the exterior. This may lead to some future inspired donors to contribute to fixing up what was left behind.
This is going to be another AGO which less than a decade later is seeing its "renovation" being renovated. People of the arts enjoy beauty, you cannot tape their mouths and hope they settle for less. I'm excited about the possibilities.
S
SD2
Guest
I'm not really sure about this - aside from the glass walled front (which I think is a little overrated, as nice as it may be), the rest of the black brick walls have the opposite effect.
O
Observer Walt
Guest
I think Barber hits the nail on the head. For all of the disappointment expressed about the exterior of the new building, it fits nicely into its surroundings. Barber reviews all four corners at Queen and University and concludes that it is good (although he does have reservations about the street itself, with which I do not agree).
Toronto has a few "spectacular" pieces of architecture, as we should. We also have a lot of subdued or low-key, but quality, buildings, and the Opera House fits into this tradition. I saw it lit up at night, for the first time, recently and could only stand there and admire it. It wasn't overwhelming, but I thought it was beautiful.