Tag: <span>photography</span>

Toronto Skyline from Bleecker Street, Toronto, 1980 – © Avard Woolaver

There’s a new word for describing the marvel of seeing a place for the first time. It is allokataplixis, a conjunction of two Greek words: allo, meaning “other,” and katapliktiko, meaning “wonder.”  Professor Liam Heneghan of DePaul University in Chicago coined the word in 2018. He had been taking his students to Ireland every year and noted that they delighted in many things–the food, the smell of the air, architectural details, the local language, as well as many small things they had never seen before. Heneghan grew up in Ireland, but had lived in the United States for many years and no longer looked at Ireland with fresh eyes or noticed its peculiarities. His word really describes my experience of discovering Toronto for the first time. Fresh eyes notice things that accustomed eyes don’t.

The above photo, taken in 1980 shortly after I arrived in Toronto, seems to be a good example of allokataplixis. I had grown up in the country, and never lived in the city. In the first several months everything seemed brand new and my photography studies at Ryerson meant that I had a camera in hand at all times to capture what I saw. I discovered the photo just recently while scanning negatives, and it’s like seeing it for the first time. I marvel now at the numerous geometric shapes, and the contrast between the old buildings and the modern ones in the background. And how the old fashioned antenna and power pole seem to dwarf the CN Tower. After having lived in Toronto for twenty years, I can no longer see it with country eyes. When I visit now, everything seems familiar.

The series “Toronto Gone” puts a focus on things that have disappeared–buildings, businesses, parking lots, cars, people that used to be a part of the city in the 1980s and 1990s prior to the condo boom, and before the widespread use of computers and cell phones.

allokataplixis, Toronto, seeing, photography
Carlton Street, Toronto, 1980 – © Avard Woolaver

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allokataplixis, Toronto, seeing, photography
Gerrard Street East, Toronto, 1980 – © Avard Woolaver

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allokataplixis, Toronto, seeing, photography
Yonge Street, Toronto, 1980 – © Avard Woolaver

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allokataplixis, Toronto, seeing, photography
Yonge Street, Toronto, 1980 – © Avard Woolaver

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allokataplixis, Toronto, seeing, photography
Yonge Street, Toronto, 1980 – © Avard Woolaver

Observation Photography Toronto

Toronto Stock Exchange, trading floor, Bay Street
Toronto Stock Exchange, Toronto, 1981 – © Avard Woolaver

In the fall of 1981, I photographed the Toronto Stock Exchange (TSE) for a school project at Ryerson. I spent three or four mornings on a viewing platform that looked down on the trading floor, trying to capture the activity and mood of the place. I remember borrowing a 300mm lens from the school–the longest lens I have ever used. The focus was so critical and as the lighting was relatively dim, I had to push the film to get adequate depth of field. I was satisfied with the results and produced a slide show programmed with a Wollensak, using the Beatles’ “Baby, You’re a Rich Man” as a soundtrack.

Looking back at these images after almost forty years, they look like relics of a different era. There are big clunky monitors, rotary phones, and paper slips strewn everywhere. There is almost a complete absence of women (they are still a minority, making up an estimated 10 to 15 percent of traders). A few women are visible, however, changing numbers on the boards, but not doing any trading. Traders are buying and selling on the phone, as well as yelling and using hand signals–a beehive of activity.

The Toronto Stock Exchange was on Bay Street in those days, in the elegant art deco building it occupied for sixty years–1937 to 1997. It then moved to the Exchange Tower on King Street, and is now the TSX. The trading floor has been replaced by an electronic trading system; gone are the men in suits, frantically yelling and gesturing. Most major exchanges in the world have also abandoned the “open outcry” method, except for the United States, where several exchanges (including the New York Mercantile Exchange and New York Stock Exchange) remain old-school.

Stephen Simpson in Investopedia talks about the pros and cons of open outcry trading. “Certainly computers are faster, cheaper, more efficient and less error-prone with routine trades – though the error rate in open outcry trading is surprisingly low. What’s more, computers are at least theoretically better for regulators in creating data trails that can be followed when there are suspicions of illegal activity. That said, electronic trading is not perfect and open outcry has some unique features. Because of the human element, traders who can “read” people may be at an advantage when it comes to picking up non-verbal cues on the motives and intentions of counter-parties. Perhaps analogous to the world of poker, there are some players who thrive as much on reading the players as playing the odds – and electronic trading removes those signals from the equation.

The series “Toronto Gone” puts a focus on things that have disappeared–buildings, businesses, parking lots, cars, people that used to be a part of the city in the 1980s and 1990s prior to the condo boom, and before the widespread use of computers and cell phones.

Toronto Stock Exchange, TSE, Bay Street
Toronto Stock Exchange, Toronto, 1981 – © Avard Woolaver

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Toronto Stock Exchange, trading floor, Bay Street
Toronto Stock Exchange, Toronto, 1981 – © Avard Woolaver

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Toronto Stock Exchange, TSE, trading floor
Toronto Stock Exchange, Toronto, 1981 – © Avard Woolaver

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Toronto Stock Exchange, TSE, trading floor
Toronto Stock Exchange, Toronto, 1981 – © Avard Woolaver

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Toronto Stock Exchange, TSE, trading floor
Toronto Stock Exchange, Toronto, 1981 – © Avard Woolaver

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Toronto Stock Exchange, trading floor, Bay Street
Toronto Stock Exchange, Toronto, 1981 – © Avard Woolaver

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Toronto Stock Exchange, trading floor, Bay Street
Toronto Stock Exchange, Toronto, 1981 – © Avard Woolaver

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Toronto Stock Exchange, trading floor, Bay Street
Toronto Stock Exchange, Toronto, 1981 – © Avard Woolaver

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Toronto Stock Exchange, TSE, trading floor
Toronto Stock Exchange, Toronto, 1981 – © Avard Woolaver

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Toronto Stock Exchange, TSE, trading floor
Toronto Stock Exchange, Toronto, 1981 – © Avard Woolaver

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Toronto Stock Exchange, trading floor, Bay Street
Toronto Stock Exchange, Toronto, 1981 – © Avard Woolaver

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Toronto Stock Exchange, trading floor, Bay Street
Toronto Stock Exchange, Toronto, 1981 – © Avard Woolaver

Black and White Documentary Photography Toronto

Wish You Were Here, surrealism,
Brooklyn, Nova Scotia, 2020 – © Avard Woolaver

My Wish You Were Here series aims to challenge the viewers’ attention in a subtle way by finding everyday scenes with elements of whimsy and surrealism. Like Rene Magritte, and Lee Friedlander, I want to make the familiar seem a little strange, but without Photoshop and image manipulation. These photos come about through observation, using juxtaposition, reflection, typography, and scale.

This project has been ongoing for several years now, and also have a black and white series called Wish You Were Here – Monochrome Dreaming. As 2020 has been such a strange and unusual year, I thought these 2020 photos, since the start of the pandemic, may be appropriate for the times.

Here is the introduction to the book, self published in 2018: “When I was a teenage boy in the mid-Seventies, living in rural Nova Scotia, I spent hours studying the album covers created by Hipgnosis, the London-based design group. This was before I grew interested in photography, but, as LPs like Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here” or “Ummagumma” played on the turntable, I scrutinized the covers, trying to penetrate the mysteries of the evocative, layered visual compositions. My “Wish You Were Here” is an ongoing photographic project that’s been in the works for several years. I aim to capture images that have a sense of the surreal yet are readily seen in everyday life. Additionally, I try to capture the sense of whimsy and humour that I liked about those album covers. The images come about through observation, rather than with Photoshop or other manipulations. For me, that’s an important aspect of the project–there’s no manipulation of the image. Reflections, juxtaposition, and scale all come into play.”

Wish You Were Here, surrealism,
Brooklyn, Nova Scotia, 2020 – © Avard Woolaver

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Wish You Were Here, surrealism,
East Ferry, Nova Scotia, 2020 – © Avard Woolaver

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Wish You Were Here, surrealism,
Brooklyn, Nova Scotia, 2020 – © Avard Woolaver

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Wish You Were Here, surrealism,
Mira River, Nova Scotia, 2020 – © Avard Woolaver

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Wish You Were Here, surrealism,
Truro, Nova Scotia, 2020 – © Avard Woolaver

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Wish You Were Here, surrealism,
Windsor, Nova Scotia, 2020 – © Avard Woolaver

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Wish You Were Here, surrealism,
Windsor, Nova Scotia, 2020 – © Avard Woolaver

Blogging Nova Scotia Observation Photography

Bay Street, suits,
Bay Street, Toronto, 1981 – © Avard Woolaver

When doing street photography in 1980s Toronto, I often walked around the Yonge-Dundas area, or along Queen Street West, or sometimes Kensington Market. I rarely walked around Bay Street because I didn’t have much interest in the corporate world. But in the fall of 1981, I had a school assignment to do a slide show. The subject I chose first was a boxing club in Cabbagetown, but the lighting was too dim. The Toronto Stock Exchange seemed like a better choice. Establishing shots were needed (people going to work on Bay Street), and I spent a few hours one morning photographing men in suits, many carrying briefcases. They’re kind of grim and serious, but professional, and dressed to look sharp. There seemed to be very few women in the crowds.

These photos have lain dormant for almost forty years, and I’m fascinated at seeing them again. A few could almost have been taken in the the 1950s, not the 1980s. Some of the men are in their sixties, meaning they could have been born before 1920. Perhaps they were young children during the Spanish Flu pandemic of 1918, or maybe they fought in WWII. When you look at history in terms of generations, 1920 was not that long ago.

Business suits are still worn on Bay Street, but dress codes have become more flexible (especially since the emergence of the tech sector in the early 2000s).

Leanne Delap wrote in the Toronto Star about the shift from three-piece suit to smart casual:

The news earlier this month that the venerable stuffy-suit investment bank Goldman Sachs has adopted a “flexible dress code,” may mark the end of the Bay Street business suit as we know it. America’s fifth largest bank, Goldman Sachs is one of the best-known “white shoe” institutions, a neat old-fashioned term that used to denote century-plus old provenance, and ultra-conservative mannerisms.

A leaked memo sent to Goldman Sachs staff was vague about why changes in the workplace dress were taking place. But it is most likely about a generational shift as a youthquake has come to suit land. More than three-quarters of Goldman Sachs employees were born in 1981 or later, which is a whole lot of millennial and Gen Z preferences to placate for any firm that wants to retain top talent.

The series “Toronto Gone” puts a focus on things that have disappeared–buildings, businesses, parking lots, cars, people that used to be a part of the city in the 1980s and 1990s prior to the condo boom, and before the widespread use of computers and cell phones.

Bay Street, suits,
Bay Street, Toronto, 1981 – © Avard Woolaver

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Bay Street, suits,
Bay Street, Toronto, 1981 – © Avard Woolaver

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Bay Street, suits,
Bay Street, Toronto, 1981 – © Avard Woolaver

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Bay Street, suits,
Bay Street, Toronto, 1981 – © Avard Woolaver

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Bay Street, suits,
Bay Street, Toronto, 1981 – © Avard Woolaver

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Bay Street, suits,
Bay Street, Toronto, 1981 – © Avard Woolaver

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Bay Street, suits,
Bay Street, Toronto, 1981 – © Avard Woolaver

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Bay Street, suits,
Bay Street, Toronto, 1981 – © Avard Woolaver

Black and White Blogging Photography Toronto

Toronto Gone, visual content
Kensington Market, Toronto, 1983 – © Avard Woolaver

When it comes to documentary photography, the more visual content, the better. The information, i.e., the visual content, in a photograph can tell you so much, especially when looking at it in a historical context. In the above photo there is so much more to be learned with the variety of elements than if I had zoomed in on just the storefront, or just the on cyclist. For instance, we can see that children’s car seats were not yet required–the child is sitting on his mother’s lap in the front seat. Sony Walkmans were being used; the cyclist is carrying one. And the bicycle is a ten-speed touring bike–mountain bikes were not yet a thing. Lucky Variety has a hand-painted sign, and sells cassettes (not LPs or CDs). The phone number for the business doesn’t have the 416 area code in front of it.

I’ve been a fan of Lee Friedlander since I discovered his photographs in 1978, in a book titled Concerning Photography. His photos are bursting with creativity, intelligence, and deadpan humour–they seem to be the visual equivalent of jazz music. He has been one of my main sources of photographic inspiration over the years.

Lee Friedlander, famous for his pioneering photos of the urban social landscape, has a talent for filling his photos with visual content without making them seem overly crowded. Eric Kim writes on his blog, “Friedlander was very conscious of how he framed his scenes, and wanted to add more complexity to his shots through adding content of interest.”

He accomplished this by using a wide-angle lens—usually a 35mm. That way objects in the foreground can remain in focus along with background elements. Though complexity is not always the answer, it certainly adds interest.

It’s something to think about when you take photos. While minimalism may work for some photos, when deciding whether to leave something in the photo or crop it out, I usually leave it in.

Dundas West and Chestnut, Toronto, 1983 – © Avard Woolaver

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Toronto, visual content
Yonge and St. Mary, Toronto, 1985 – © Avard Woolaver

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Toronto Gone, visual content
Kensington Market, Toronto, 1983 – © Avard Woolaver

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Toronto Gone
Store Signs, Dundas St. West, Toronto, 1986 – © Avard Woolaver

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Toronto Gone, visual content
Cineplex Eaton Centre, Toronto, 1985 – © Avard Woolaver

Black and White Film Photography Photography Social Landscape Toronto