Championing public art in an era of beancounters
The modern history of public art in Toronto began in 1984, the year the Canadian Airman’s Memorial was unveiled at University and Dundas. Better known as Gumby Goes to Heaven, the large bronze sculpture was so awful, so banal and, frankly, so unintentionally hilarious, hundreds, mostly artists, showed up to demonstrate against it.
The piece had been donated by the late financier Henry Jackman, and without public input, installed at one of the city’s most important intersections. Queen Elizabeth — poor thing — inaugurated the work. Soon after, perhaps to save the monarch from future embarrassment, the Toronto public art commission was formed.
Since then, public art has popped up throughout the downtown core and become a whole lot less controversial, not that we all love what we see. As often as not, the real issue is who pays for it.
As long as it’s developers and philanthropists who foot the bill, few really care what they’re paying for. But when public money’s involved, it’s a different matter. The best example came in 1966 when the city was caught up in a bitter dispute about whether to spend $150,000 on Henry Moore’s sculpture, The Archer. Then mayor, Phil Givens, championed the work, but city council voted against it.
“How much more art and culture can we stand?” alderman Fred Beavis fumed on behalf of Toronto the Good. “How much more can we have shoved down our throats?”
Fifty years later, Beavis is forgotten and the Archer is one of Toronto’s most emblematic public artworks, beloved by tourists and locals alike. And as those who bother to read the plaque at the bottom of the piece know, it was paid for by “public subscription.”
Today, of course, we are hungry for art and culture. According to a recent report prepared by the Ontario College of Art and Design University and the University of Toronto, after four decades of “significant investment, Toronto is poised to become a leader in public art.” But, it adds, “our investment and overall initiative has lagged vis-a-vis peer cities like Chicago, San Francisco and Ottawa.” The authors argue that the city “must renew its commitment to public art” and pursue a goal of “international leadership in public art.”
Nice idea, but what about the bean-counters and bottom feeders who run the city?
Even the program that called for 1 per cent of the construction cost of large development projects be set aside for art is voluntary. Some builders recognize the value of public art and make a point of including it, but many don’t. Then there’s the TTC, which has become more adept at incorporating art into its stations than providing transit. Even the Sheppard line, as poorly planned as any subway route other than the Scarborough extension, includes some of the city’s most memorable public artworks. Before that there was the Spadina line with offerings by renowned artists such as Joyce Wieland, Louis de Niverville and Michael Hayden (though his neon piece at Yorkdale disappeared decades ago). By contrast, the artworks on the dedicated streetcar lines on Spadina and St. Clair are less successful.
But before there can be public art there must be a public realm. That’s why most examples are in the city. As the report notes, “large swaths of Toronto are now comparative ‘public art deserts.’ ” Those, we are told, “tend to be located in parts of the city where large portions of Toronto’s immigrant . . . communities have settled.”
“The focus has been on the downtown core,” says OCADU president, Sara Diamond. “We need to refresh the city’s public art policy. We need to be aware of its value. We also think we need to open up the definition of public art.”
“We need a new public art master plan,” says co-author and U of T sociology professor Dan Silver. “And we need more artists involved at the front end of the design process. The report is grounded in what other cities have done.” Indeed, Toronto has nothing like Chicago’s Millennium Park or the High Line in New York.
Public art has never been a civic priority in this city. Perhaps the report will change that, but under current conditions and leadership, residents would be wise not to hold their breath. In Toronto, the only thing carved in stone is its willingness to sacrifice tomorrow to keep costs low today. Christopher Hume’s column appears weekly. He can be reached at jcwhume4@gmail.com