During my Christmas vacation – not of the National Lampoon’s kind, but of the Houghtonesque kind, meaning I visited family/slept in/played too many video games/watched a TON of movies and read books until 5 in the morning.  I awoke to see a disgusting eyesore.  No, I wasn’t looking in the mirror; however my face after waking up could scare people with its profound gauntness and fatigued eye sockets.  This eyesore was on the internet. 

On InternationalMetropolis.com, our friend Andrew Foot posted a picture he took of what became of the old “Cat House” on Windermere.  Some of you may recall a certain abandoned house that emitted a most unpleasant odour, so unpleasant and dubious in fact it had to be torn down.  It seems the previous tenant of said home was fond of cats, and not too fond on cleanliness, hence, the unmistakable stench of cat pee.

The jaded amongst us primarily passed off this building’s death by the “building eaters” as a good thing due to the olfactory nightmare that permeated therein, even though the land that house occupied would likely remain an empty lot for a generation or more, likely being home to a cluster of pheasants or a murder of grounded crows. 

It turns out we were all wrong.  Someone had the guile to build a suburban style home in the midst of Walkerville’s antique splendour.  It was like someone going into a jewellery store display and putting a plastic digital watch in the middle of a line of Rolexes.    

Now, if this is a practical joke, I applaud the people who built this home.  Now, please tear down this slap stick palace and build something more suitable to the neighbourhood – and by the way: good one, you got me, now please, let’s get to the punch line.

The troubling matter here is that the people who built this home did nothing wrong.  They broke no laws and they have not corrupted any regulations.  They bought the land, fair and square, and they built what they wanted on it.  That is their right, isn’t it?  I mean, this is Canada, where we can do whatever we want to our possessions and to our property, no matter what a few people who are a fan of history and neighbourhood preservation say about it.  Screw them, right?

What do we as a city, and a modern society deem beautiful?

Walkerville, as we know it, was essentially established as a bedroom community for a large corporation and its workers.  Many of the beautiful splendorous homes were built by the executives of this large company.   The common working folk were not forgotten, however, and their town leader and boss provided living quarters for them.  Walkerville was a planned community.  It was supposed to be pleasing to look at and it was supposed to enrapture the imagination.  It must have been quite a sight, trotting down the street in a carriage for the first time at the turn of the last century, your surroundings looking foreign; yet familiar at the same time.

Human beings love to be surrounded with beauty.  At first, opulence was reserved for the wealthy elite, and we only had a taste every Sunday when we would congregate at our respective places of worship.  We would gaze up that the architecture screaming in our faces.  The granite columns and stained glass must have been both intimidating and ravishing at the same time.  Even the most baleful and disenchanted person must have to catch their breath when entering one of the world’s great cathedrals for the first time.  This effect was planned when these places were built so long ago.  It is human nature to be amazed that human hands built these places, and a human mind conceived it.

This is how I feel about Walkerville.  I am amazed that people designed this place.  I am amazed that people built every last square foot of its beauty, and that none of it is natural and all of it was on purpose. 

When I see what replaced the “Cat House”, I cannot help but think, “What do we as a society think is beautiful?”  Is this type of home good enough for us, or have we somehow shut off the portion of our brain that demands the best and most pleasing? 

Some might argue that the cost of materials, or changing tastes have eliminated the imaginative way homes were built generations ago.  I argue that those same people were in tune with what timeless beauty is.  They were aware that if you built a rudimentary home you were building only for yourself, and not for the appreciation of future generations.  They were aware of the aesthetic quality of a house and how it fits in with the neighbourhood that surrounds it. 

If this home were built in La Salle, or Tecumseh it would be gracious to the surrounding houses.  It would add to the aesthetic (no matter how misguided) of the environment. 

Where did we fail?  When did this style of home become something that would be sought after and enjoyed?  To me, the buildings that a society constructs say a lot about its self worth, and its taste.

Perhaps I am alone in this.  I, for one, believe that the entire borough of Walkerville should be designated a historical landmark, en masse and that any new construction must be in tune with the surrounding buildings.  This would ensure that nothing like this would ever happen again, and that the beauty that we enjoy would be still in existence many generations from now.

Having Walkerville as a whole, designated would open the way for guided tours, carriage rides, and a whole host of other possibilities.  Opening up and further promoting the area so that people could truly understand what it must have been like to enter the haven for the first time, one hundred years ago. 

In the future, where will people want to visit, as an example of our city’s beauty? 

Lesperance or Kildare? 

Wildwood or St Mary’s Gate?

Southwood Lakes, or Willistead Park?

http://www.internationalmetropolis.com/?p=1063 -  Return to the Cat House

http://mathieuhelie.wordpress.com/2008/08/10/fake-complexity-frank-gehry/    -some light reading

Tags: adaptive reuse, planning, residential, sustainable development, trends, walkerville