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As might
be expected, real "architectural guides" according to the parameters
I've described have been few and far between in culturally colonial Canada.
However, a quick word must be made about the many guidebooks, booklets,
pamphlets, etc put out through the years by innumerable local architectural
and historical associations in Canada as elsewhere. For all their worthiness
--and many (especially the early ones, created when heritage-recognition and
preservation was still a crusade rather than a cliche) are excellent indeed,
though not a few are a bit gawky and naive or otherwise vanity-pressish --they
really exist in a different sphere from the Pevsnerian/Gebhardian tradition, being
geared in general toward the more conventional (the less charitable might say
middlebrow) heritage/history afficionado, for whom "architectural worth" may be
inextricable from the "heritage" factor. (Dead giveaways are the existence of
"heritage metaphors" in the title, or the use of drawings in lieu of photos of
buildings. The latter gesture has indeed become an emblem of earnest, self-conscious
"olden time" kitsch; but given the alternative of frequently execrable photo-reproduction
quality, the decision may be more reasonable than it first appears.) While these
publications can serve the production of more comprehensive architectural guidebooks,
due to their limited parameters--stylistic, generic, or geographic--they are no substitute.
But as far as popular outreach goes--as well as, when you read between the perhaps
necessarily sentimental "heritage/history" lines, the degree of careful local research and
documentation involved--they certainly offer important lessons.
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One problem is that
the architectural guidebook is, by nature, a very contemporary, "urban" or at
least "urbanizing" genre--even when, as with Pevsner and BUS, they seek
to tackle the small towns and countryside. And the danger in small-town Ontario is of
looking too inorganically highfalutin' fer yer own britches; thus, it is usually through
specially commissioned architectural and planning studies, rather than the more "popular"
guides and pamphlets, that one senses how, if properly framed, a true architectural guide
might be able to "fly" just about anywhere. And if one looks carefully, on very rare and
qualified occasions you might even find an architecturally-geared (and sometimes equally
naively earnest) opposite number to the common "heritage guides"; consider the booklet on
Kitchener-Waterloo modernism that accompanied a Kitchener exhibition a few years ago...or
even "East/West", for that matter. A good architectural guide should be able to bridge that
gap, and be palatable to a generally younger and/or more sophisticated latent market whose
contemporary, all-encompassing "sense of place"--anyplace, even the countryside, even
suburban anomie--might be more akin to Reyner Banham's Los Angeles (or, if you want,
Douglas Coupland's Vancouver) than to the offputtingly genteel, effete, and parochial
"olden time" vacuumland too often associated with heritage groups (and in its turn,
these days too often an unfortunate short step removed from McMichaelesque reactionary
crankiness).
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A true oddity is
that in spite of its having the most sophisticated architectural culture
in all of Canada--due in no small part to Phyllis Lambert and the CCA--and an exemplary
program of neighbourhood, community, architectural, urban et al studies, Montreal's been
notably sluggish in producing a truly worthy, comprehensive architectural guide. Perhaps
it's the net effect of the language wars, or Phyllis Lambert's intimidating shadow? Wolfe
& Grenier's "Decouvrir/Discover Montreal" came closest, but even it now appears as a
watered-down precursor to Access Guidedom; and Remillard & Merrett's "L'architecture
de Montreal/Montreal Architecture" is an odd, too-terse (if not bad) hybrid of style
guide and architectural guide that reminds us how well suited, if followed through, the
Cartesian/ chronological model would be for this historically very Europhile metropolis.
But if Johnson & Widgington's recent "Pedestrian's Guide" is any indication, Montreal's
will to guide, architecturally, has been relegated to nth-division bridesmaid level. Or
maybe it's just too "vulgar" for the CCA-infected bigwigs who'd rather stick with curatory
and scholarly work and leave the guiding up to high-style populists like Richard Saul Wurman.
Oh, well...
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It's a
different story in the West, where a young Harold Kalman set the way
with "Exploring Vancouver" in 1974 (2nd edition, 1978). In retrospect, this
unassuming, seemingly matter-of-fact volume was quite remarkably precocious,
although its format was elementary to the point of banality; six walking and
four driving tours of the Vancouver region w/intros, marching along one entry
+ photo at a time. "A history of Vancouver through its architecture", as the
general introduction noted, "intended primarily as a field guide for active
participation". Most impressive was Kalman's willingness and tackle Vancouver
as a straightforward built fact, disregarding elite architectural judgment or
those who might dismiss a less-than-century-old "boomtown" as lacking in
architectural heritage or worth; thus one finds, carefully contextualized and
interrelated, not only the requisite relics of old Gastown but contemporary
apartment and office towers, Shaughnessy mansions and speculative or even
unplanned development, early North Shore modernism --even a generic McDonald's
restaurant! In a sense, "Exploring Vancouver" reflected a very open-minded,
au courant "West Coast" spirit --the northern outpost of the forces which led on
the one hand to the Venturian-via-Banham/Moore appreciation of the "pop landscape",
and on the other hand to the fruitful fusion of architectural history with
vernacular studies now symbolized by scholars such as Dell Upton at Berkeley.
Yet Kalman was very Canadian in his reserve, his lack of boastfulness or
self-conscious swagger --unlike Gebhard in his 70s guides, he didn't "try too hard"
--and in this, he marked more of a refined continuation of the spirit of Alan Gowans,
whose willingness to treat architecture as a kind of cultural anthropology,
appropriate to a "colonial" architectural culture such as Canada's, was a
precursor to the concerns of Dell Upton et al. (Little wonder that Kalman
ultimately supplanted Gowans as author of the standard Canadian architectural
history text.) But there's also a real, rare "hit-the-ground-running" delight
evident in "Exploring Vancouver", akin to the early days of Pevsner-guide creation;
one can still feel, from the pages, Kalman and his seminar students (whom he dedicates
the book to!) simply getting out and researching, and seeing, seeing and loving and
learning from Vancouver in all its haphazard old-new eclecticism. Almost as if
to demonstrate that we can do it too, wherever we are, and share that warts-and-all
total-environment love with others --and its sad that so few have taken that cue.
(And the fact that the 1974-era Vancouverite architectural historiography shows its
age --though it's surprisingly good, considering-- is almost beside the point.)
The magic of the original "Exploring Vancouver" was, unhappily, difficult to recapture
in later, more cynical times. Kalman and photographer John Roaf reprised the formula
in "Exploring Ottawa" (1983), but the result --which the more waggish might blame upon
the dead-weight presence of federal bureaucracy-- was tepid by comparison. And when a
thoroughly revised, reformatted third edition of "Exploring Vancouver" --now co-authored
by Robin Ward and Ron Phillips-- came out in 1993, the insouciance of the original had
been compromised by misplaced architectural-critic jaundice and overdesign, including
photography that's often too arty for its own good (for the jaundice and photos one may
blame Vancouver Sun critic Ward). And amidst all the additions and deletions, something
went awry with the selection; that seminal 50s Modern landmark, the Queen Elizabeth Theatre,
is nowhere in sight!
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