Recently I took a trip to Toronto, a city which I love, and lived in from 1980-1986, and then again from 1993-2005. Nova Scotia is my home now, but I always enjoy visiting the place where I attended university, made friends, got married, had a family, and did a lot of photography.
The purpose of my visit was to deliver photos to The City of Toronto Archives. I’m honoured that there will be a permanent collection of my photos there. It is deeply satisfying that these photos, taken rather randomly in the 1980s and 1990s, will live on and be a part of Toronto’s rich history. (Check out the Ellis Wiley collection if you have a chance.) By randomly, I only mean that at the time I did not intend to document the city in any particular way; only photograph scenes that caught my eye. It will take several months for the photos (700 digital images) to be catalogued, and at the end of it I hope to have an exhibition at the Archives.
During my stay in Toronto, I had a chance to get out and walk around with my camera, just like in the old days. I’m posting black and white photos here because that is what I mainly shot in the 1980s. There have been so many changes in the city over the past several years, yet so many places and aspects of Toronto remain the same. It was a pleasure to explore the city once again with fresh eyes.
Here are some recent black and white photos, taken over the past few months. With these images, I revisit familiar themes of juxtaposition, societal symbols, isolation, humour, and the human-altered landscape. In the absence of colour, the photographs gain a level of abstraction; we must use our imagination in a sense to complete the picture. The tones and contrast of the black and white also serves to highlight the graphic elements.
Though I shoot mainly colour these days with a digital camera, monochrome takes me back to the 1980s when I shot tons of Tri-X and spent countless hours in the darkroom. I miss those days sometimes, but feel that I can much the same results with digital technology. For me, it’s what you see, and capture, that’s most important, whether it’s with film or digital; Leica or Brownie box camera.
Nostalgia can be described as a sentimental longing for the past. It comes from the Greek nostos (homecoming) and algos (pain) and is thought to have been derived from Homer’s The Odyssey.
With baby boomers reaching their senior years, nostalgia seems to be their drug of choice. Advertisers target boomers with Beatles music, retro fashions, and even long dead actors such as Marilyn Munroe selling perfume. While boomers seem to be lapping it up, not everyone is crazy about the nostalgia bug. Heather Havrilesky writes in The Washington Post, “While griping about boomer nostalgia has become a somewhat common art, the cultural impact of that nostalgia transcends mere annoyance. Through sheer repetition and force of will, boomers have so thoroughly indoctrinated us into their worldview that we all now reflexively frame most current affairs through the lens of another generation’s formative experiences.” Abbey Hoffman might say not to trust anyone under 50!
I myself am a baby boomer. Born in 1958, I was six years old when the Beatles came to North America. I sang “A Hard Day’s Night” in my Grade One classroom, watched the moon landing on a fuzzy black and white TV, and took my Diana camera to Expo ’67 in Montreal. While I have nostalgia for those early years, the time I miss most was when I was in my early twenties, studying photography at Ryerson in Toronto.
The photos in this blog post capture the time that I am nostalgic for. They were taken in downtown Toronto in my early years of study. Everything was new and fresh, conversations were stimulating, photography was invigorating. Several of my classmates from that year became lifelong friends. Since returning to those days is impossible, I can make the journey with my retro photographs. It’s the next best thing.
It’s Flashback Friday, a day when social media users post photos and videos from the past. On this Flashback Friday (#FBF), I have chosen photos from my book Toronto Flashback (1980-1986). Looking at these images inevitably brings feelings of nostalgia. I remember being 22, walking the streets with my camera, going out to clubs, hanging out with friends–living life to the fullest. We can’t go back, but photographs can help us remember.
Michael Amo writes in the introduction, “I encountered Avard for the first time in 1980. It was the first class of our foundational year of a four year program “Photographic Arts” at the Ryerson Polytechnical Institute in Toronto. Behold a bunch of first year students dressed like the Culture Club version of artists: leggings, scarves, Gitanes. Then there was Avard with his tractor-friendly jeans and Emerson, Lake and Palmer hair all freshly laundered from a recent stint in the railway yards in Kentville, Nova Scotia. Strangely, he was smiling. Living in the city for the first time, I quickly noticed how seldom Torontonians seem to smile or make eye contact. Avard did both and our friendship was born.
We grew up in rural places, Avard and I, which may have contributed to our instant bond. I came from a small Ontario town. Avard came from his family farm in Nova Scotia, a truly beautiful place which has been in the family for many generations. I think that sense of psychic dislocation – tree to stone, stream to street, sky to wire – had a profound effect on both of us. Overnight, our green frame of reference was gone, sending us on a search for something that would reflect our former selves – our identity, our humanity – back at us in the clatter and concrete of the city.
For me, that is the hallmark of Avard’s photography. It started in Toronto in 1980 and it continues to this day: a search for the human element even when there are no humans in sight. It might be the ragged dignity of the regulars in a pawn shop, the soaring majesty of a walkway at City Hall overhanging a single, stout pedestrian or simply the intersection of two unpeopled snow-filled streets, tire tracks tracing the paths of those who’ve come and gone. In every instance, there is a sense that we are in the picture – we being all those souls doing our best to make our way in the world. Somehow Avard’s lens finds us even when we’re not there.
There’s a family story about Avard – how, as a small boy, he was placed in a wooden box at the edge of a field while his father plowed row after row on his tractor. The young Avard would sit and watch for hours.
When Avard arrived in Toronto in 1980, he brought that watchfulness with him, that deep-seated empathy for humans going about their solitary business, a simultaneous loneliness and delight in our ceaseless effort to remake the world in our own image. I don’t know if there’s a word for that singular emotion but I do know it can found in the images in this book.”
Nostalgia can be described as a sentimental longing for the past. It comes from the Greek nostos (homecoming) and algos (pain) and is thought to have been derived from Homer’s The Odyssey.
With baby boomers reaching their senior years, nostalgia seems to be their drug of choice. Advertisers target boomers with Beatles music, retro fashions, and even long dead actors such as Marilyn Munroe selling perfume. While boomers seem to be lapping it up, not everyone is crazy about the nostalgia bug. Heather Havrilesky writes in The Washington Post, “While griping about boomer nostalgia has become a somewhat common art, the cultural impact of that nostalgia transcends mere annoyance. Through sheer repetition and force of will, boomers have so thoroughly indoctrinated us into their worldview that we all now reflexively frame most current affairs through the lens of another generation’s formative experiences.” Abbey Hoffman might say not to trust anyone under 50!
I myself am a baby boomer. Born in 1958, I was six years old when the Beatles came to North America. I sang “A Hard Day’s Night” in my Grade One classroom, watched the moon landing on a fuzzy black and white TV, and took my Diana camera to Expo ’67 in Montreal. While I have nostalgia for those early years, the time I miss most was when I was in my early twenties, studying photography at Ryerson in Toronto.
The photo at the head of this blog captures the time that I am nostalgic for. It was taken in my neighborhood in downtown Toronto in my first year of study. Everything was new and fresh, conversations were stimulating, photography was invigorating. Several of my classmates from that year became lifelong friends. Since returning to those days is impossible, I can make the journey with my retro photographs. It’s the next best thing.
Gerrard East and Ontario Street, Toronto, 1981, is from the series: Toronto Days
