I’m drawn to this sign’s weather-beaten appearance, but it’s the arching triangles of “Oriental Cuisine” that keep me looking and thinking. Would an Asian restaurant use this style of lettering in the present?
I’m also intrigued by the red arrows: one word on each of them, and they point in different directions.
The signboard with “David’s” painted on it looks like it could be a later addition. Is there another name underneath?
This sign is brought to you by the friendly folks at the TTC. It’s blunt and unapologetic and there’s a little note of uncertainty: you “may” be electrocuted.
I’m fascinated by the symbol, that jagged red mark. Strangely enough, it makes me think less of sudden death than of love, the way it zaps you unexpectedly, leaving you electrified.
I propose that next Valentine’s Day we replace the all-too-familiar red heart with a red thunderbolt.
These stenciled letters have a jittery life to them. With their varying heights, they look like they’re about to leap off the metal surface and dance into the streets.
The two-toned background is startling and all those scrapes revealing an underlayer of blue paint have a primal energy, like the liquid scrawls of a Jackson Pollock drip painting.
Once you start paying attention to dumpsters you realize that each has a unique personality—and this one is loud and joyful.
What I love about this wall is that you can see at least two different ads dissolving into one another. That word on the left looks like “PRINCE” and it gently competes with the Coca-Cola logo. I’m reminded of what it sounds like when the radio is tuned between two stations, that hazy, unrepeatable music.
Wouldn’t it be lovely to see this wall as a time-lapse film, a rapid dissolve from bare brick wall to ad to ad… through all the stages of visual ruin to its current state?
In a city with as many languages spoken as Toronto, pictograms make a lot of sense. They hold out the promise of immediate understanding and universality. There’s something reassuring in the idea that we might all comprehend something in sync with one another.
Here a coffee shop simplifies its offerings into two silhouettes. The sign has a no-nonsense attitude and I wonder if that translates into what they serve and how they serve it. I have yet to visit.
Hmmm… is that bite out of the piece of bread a nod to the Apple logo?
From construction to the G20 to Pride, the city has been a maze of detours and diversions lately. Part of the pleasure is encountering new signs everywhere. Sometimes a strange word on a strange surface can make me absurdly happy.
This is a ramp in front of a gas station, positioned to compensate for a torn up road surface. You may already know that I love stenciled type. Here the sound of “Kenco” (try saying it aloud now!) combined with the fact that the “C” and the “O” are rectangular results in a sign that gives more joy than an orange popsicle.
What’s the best sign you’ve seen so far this summer?
Apparently this used to be a United Church and now it’s Anglican. They didn’t do such a good job of concealing the transition. That substance on the sign looks like chewing gum.
I wonder if there’s a meaning in this gesture: an animosity towards another Protestant denomination perhaps, or a holier-than-thou attitude. Or is it just evidence of a relaxed attitude towards signmaking?
When I see the word “green,” it usually means someone wants to sell me something. That’s why I like this sign so much: nothing’s for sale. And it’s a defunct gas station, so the word is perfectly apt.
The typeface looks like Cooper Black, which I find to be unabashedly sincere, both ugly and lovable at the same time.
“Never” is one of those words that’s enjoyable to say, but less enjoyable to think about. It has a ring of finality that makes me uncomfortable.
This particular “never” is part of a longer saying embedded in the sidewalk. Here’s a test of your prowess as an observant Torontonian: What’s the full saying and at which intersection will you find it?
These letters are stuck to the side of the building like giant fridge magnets. They’re chunky and clunky and their shameless inelegance is a big part of their appeal.
There’s more than a hint of something violent in the name “Price Chopper,” so it’s perfectly fitting that there’s nothing dainty or subdued about this sign. The blaring orange backdrop seems to say we’re relentless and unafraid to go to extremes.
If you’re chroma-sensitive you might feel intimidated, but my advice is to view this sign as a visual dare. Take it on with both eyes wide open and see what happens.
TORONTO TYPE 