TORONTO TYPE

A danger sign that’s battered and scarred like this one has credibility. It says: watch out, or this might end up happening to you.

There’s something weirdly imprecise about most danger signs, isn’t there? They tell you you’re at risk, but they don’t tell you what exactly to do about it.

I like the way these letters are the same colour as their backdrop. They don’t clamour for attention, they just rely on their three-dimensionality to be noticed.

The “L” is missing and its absent form is clearly visible. I wonder if the letter is sitting there on that ledge or if pigeons have carried it off.

The letter “K” appears twice and I admit I like the first version best. Check out the shape: it has the playful stance of a cartoon character.

This sign is just down the street from Metro Central YMCA. The shop it advertises is long gone; I believe it sold sports supplements. Now the panels are gradually decaying and one is completely missing.

The sign is also next door to the Coroner’s Court building, where mysterious deaths are investigated. In a way, this street is all about bodies, living and deceased, and the ravaged letters of Body Gear speak unexpectedly of the joys and vulnerabilities of being in the flesh.

On Valentine’s Day I made a special pilgrimage to True Love Café and snapped some pictures. It’s located in Toronto’s most violent neighbourhood, right at the intersection of Dundas and Sherbourne. The facade is plastered with hearts, but these are neglected hearts, bruised hearts, hearts that have seen better days.

It’s disconcerting to see a dilapidated monument to love in a part of town known for robberies and vicious assaults. When I visited on Monday, the café was dark inside. I don’t know if it’s a currently functioning business.

Hope Valentine’s Day left your heart in better condition than what we encounter at this sad street corner.

I often pass this sign while riding the streetcar and it transfixes me every time. Is it her shellshocked expression that gets me? Perhaps it’s the contradiction between the idea of skin care and a sign that looks ravaged by the elements.

I’m also struck by the unusual choice of flowing script for the word “Scientific.” You would expect something more antiseptic. Against a faded backdrop, the word registers as nothing but a whisper.

Still, it’s her face that keeps me looking. This nameless woman, champion of Science, has become a landmark in my city travels. I’d be lost without her.

“It’s a binary world,” my Dad used to say. Then, as evidence, he’d list off a bunch of opposing pairs, like on or off. Of course it would annoy me, since my own impulse was to look for a spectrum of possibilities.

But some things really are binary, like this sign: Open or Closed. Flip it around and it changes from one state to the other. If everything in life were this clear, we’d be in good shape.

This sign has been through a lot and has the battle scars to prove it! (So has my father.)

I enjoy looking at signs that show the effects of weather and time. Here I’m guessing that several layers of paint have washed away, leaving the first methodical brushstrokes. The result has the appearance of Pop art: think of the flags and targets of Jasper Johns.

It’s satisfying to imagine that signs that look polished and invincible might harbour something human and vulnerable underneath.