Another hit on the ROM
DAVID MACFARLANE
Special to The Globe and Mail
November 24, 2007
There must be people in Toronto who like the new addition to the Royal Ontario Museum. It's just that none of them ever sits across from me at a dinner party. For a while, it was a useful icebreaker, though. All you had to do was say "Libeskind" - then just sit back and dodge the spittle.
But I've decided that this uniformly negative view is becoming conversationally tiresome. And so, in an effort to liven up dinner-table repartee, I set myself the task of finding a way to like the ROM.
Getting the LSD was not as difficult as I expected it to be. Not only was Captain Trip still at his old address, he was unfazed by the decades that had passed since I last parted his beaded curtains. Time is an illusion, according to the good captain. He should know. His personal recommendation was the white lightning.
One forgets how powerful LSD is - at least, one does until one starts to peak on Philosopher's Walk. If you've forgotten, let me put it this way. Getting off on a hit of acid makes a bottle of Glenmorangie, a joint and a mirror full of coke seem like functional grace, structural rationality and architectural coherence. Or, to put it another way: It can make the ROM appear to be the only building on Bloor Street that makes any sense.
Much has been said about the banal, mall-like entrance to the new addition. People say it makes them feel squeamish. All I can say is: Try it on acid.
First of all, it took forever to get across the weirdly unpopulated Bloor Street piazza. I kept wondering: Is that Omar Sharif on a camel on the wavering horizon? And then, once through the doors, I realized that feeling squeamish is only the first step. Peyote visions, so I recalled from Carlos Castaneda, always begin with nausea. And Daniel Libeskind got that right. Once you're inside, everything about the new ROM - the dinosaur posters, the seared black cod, the piles of Brian Mulroney's autobiography - tumble around you like a Cubist painting. Everything seems very Nude Descending a Whole Lot of White Drywall. But I thought it would pass.
Ascending the Stair of Wonders, you can't help but wonder about mollusks and toy soldiers, but if anything is going to help you make the connection between the two, it's probably a massive dose of an illegal and extremely dangerous hallucinogen. Just don't have lunch first. The really little regiment in sombreros and sunglasses didn't help. I wasn't sure if they were invertebrates. And by then I knew I was in trouble. Alas, my descent was too rapid to take in the clams and Beefeaters properly. Luckily, I found the bathroom in time.
You see, the thing is: It's a prism. That's what I was chanting in the Spirit House before the security guards were called. It is us. And we are it. And if you keep asking, "What kind of crystal is made of aluminum siding?" I'll tell you one thing: You're not stoned enough. You're too hung up on things being right. Angles, for instance. Do you really think the universe wasn't designed on a napkin?