When I started this project I didn’t expect I’d become a connoisseur of dumpsters, but there’s something about their scarred exteriors and utilitarian labels that I find compelling.
Here I like the way the letters are spaced out across compartments and the words are staggered instead of aligned. Even thought these letters are damaged, they announce themselves with the charisma of celebrities… and I’m defenseless, ready to gawk and ask for autographs.
My brain insists on thinking of this as a Chicken House that’s tasty, even though I know that’s not what the sign really means. Looks like brick, glass, wood, formica… tastes like chicken!
Two things I love about this sign: the chicken illustration that looks like something fed through a photocopier multiple times, and also the letters that get wider at the top to respond to the curved layout. Check out the “H” and the “U”. Tasty indeed.
This sign warns of an unpredictable gate that is “able to be moved without prior warning.” If you don’t pay enough attention, it might actually kill you.
The pictogram manages to be grisly and funny at the same time. I don’t get it though: if the arrow represents the force of the gate, what’s that black bar that the figure is being squashed against?
Fortunately, I managed to take this picture and lived to tell the tale.
I suspect that the blocked words are “please use other sidewalk,” but then again I don’t know for sure. I’d have to tear off the duct tape to find out.
This sign makes me think of hostages with their mouths taped shut. Even if the suppressed words are banal, there’s a menacing mood here.
But I guess there’s another way to see it: the double lines of tape are actually blanks, waiting for someone to fill them in with alternate instructions.
What would you write?
I spotted this sign in front of a church’s side door, on a street that’s very popular with smokers. I guess the principle of Christian charity isn’t extended to them.
I’ve always been fond of the cigarette pictogram in No Smoking signs. The smoke is usually indicated by two thick, curvy black lines. (Here they’re surprisingly elegant.) There’s typically a sensuality in those marks – as if the sign maker feels compelled to acknowledge the pleasure of smoking, even while prohibiting it.
This sign has a split personality: one part polite and one part hostile. I love the contrast between the delicate script and the big red caps.
Wouldn’t it be fun to leave the door ajar, just to see what would happen? What do you think the creator of this sign is like in person?
Some signs have alter egos: they appear to be one thing by day and another by night. Here’s one I noticed recently: the Bay when the sun’s up and the “B y” after hours.
Somehow it’s comforting to know that even a sign as iconic as this one can suffer from burnt out bulbs now and then.
Looks like Jim reduced the hours of his business. Given the condition of his sign it seems he’s been running this place for a while, so he deserves to cut back a little, don’t you think?
The result of the revision almost looks like “Open 2 Hours.” I suppose by leaving a fraction of “24” visible he’s saying he’s now open part of the day, rather than the entire day.
Here’s another sign I came across in Montreal. You’ll find it on a boarded up stretch of St. Laurent.
I’m so used to seeing “Post No Bills” signs in Toronto that it’s a delight to see the opposite message. And I like it that the message is where a commercial sign once was. These empty storefronts have become a noisy barrage of posters and street art.
Something I enjoy about Montreal: it’s a city that gives you permission.
I spotted this sign while in Montreal recently. I guess it’s temporarily off-duty, or at least being a bit laissez-faire in directing traffic.
Ever get the feeling that signs get sick of telling us where to go and what to do all the time?
This sign must have needed a break on a hot summer day and I admire its nonchalance.
TORONTO TYPE 