This sign is painted on the facade of a car wash that’s no longer operating. Read it line by line and it becomes an accidental poem.
It makes sense that “Deluxe” is up at the top. Being so far out of reach, it seems extra special. You have to crane your neck to see it.
“Regular” is more approachable, but has its own appeal: “Foam bath, Wash, Sparkle Rinse, Dry.” The simplicity is enough to elicit tears.
Sorry for the delay in posting. Life has been a little hectic recently! I will be adding the next photo on Saturday. See you then!
Corneil
I like signs that have been visibly amended. Here a “D” and “I” are obviously a later addition, and the awkward spacing suggests that the store name was different before. Does anyone recall what the original name was?
Since I took this picture, someone added a new layer to the sign: the store is now officially called “Gold’s.” I have a hunch that this isn’t the end… there are probably new layers to come.
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.
This papered-over storefront must have been a clothing boutique at one point. The remaining word and image look like excerpts from a greeting card whose sentiments are appropriate for today.
Happy Mother’s Day!
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 is the first photo I’m posting that comes from a contributor and he happens to be my Dad. He discovered this sign on the south end of the St. Andrew subway platform and snapped a few pictures.
At one point the sign must have said “Danger Do Not Enter.” It seems that someone replaced a tile but used a blank one as the substitute, leaving a curiously altered message.
It made my father think of the biblical directive not to let the sun go down on your anger. I see an inadvertent comment on the fiery emotions of TTC riders. What do you see?
I spotted these posters a while back on one of those “Post No Bills” walls around a construction site. They’d already been scraped at and painted over, but were still visible, proving that you really can’t stop The Village People.
City walls are battlegrounds and messages constantly get wrecked. It’s the damage that keeps me looking; what about you?
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.
This sign is simple and enigmatic: five names in alphabetical order, each one occupying less space than the last. No hint about what the list signifies. If you don’t already know, it’s up to you to find out. That reticence is surprisingly effective and the unadorned typography adds to the impact.
Say the list aloud and it has an ominous sound, like an incantation. What mysteries await behind this green brick wall?
TORONTO TYPE 