I love the concept of a fill-in-the-blank danger sign. It acknowledges that the world is so full of perils, we couldn’t possibly print up unique warnings for all of them.
In this case, it looks like the weather has washed away the lettering inside the box. There’s just a faint trace of writing left behind. It makes the sign even more arresting: if it were a voice, the last word would be a horrified whisper.
Toronto is famous for disguising itself as other cities in the movies. This longing to be transformed into someplace else is apparent even in the names of many buildings.
Here’s an apartment building that proudly announces itself as “The Manhattan.” The upward tilting script suggests a dramatic optimism. This sign has the wishful energy of a magic spell.
What would a building called “The Toronto” be like?
I’m taking a short break and will resume posting photos on Wednesday April 7.
In the meantime, Happy Passover and Happy Easter!
Corneil
It’s not often that you encounter the word “couture” abandoned in an empty lot. It’s kind of like discovering a beaded dress glittering in the gutter.
This is the name of a new condo that will be built on the site. The sales centre was recently taken down and I expect construction will begin soon.
For now, there’s just a bunch of prostrate letters here, a sales pitch tossed aside, a scrap of glamour seeming to be garbage.
The signs painted on the sides of buildings often have a ghostly quality. The letters fade into the brickwork but still persist, linking us to an older version of our city.
In this shot I chose to focus on a single letter, a magnificent “M.” It’s in great condition, so this sign may not be as old as some of the other specimens you see around town.
Beneath the letter is a credit for the company that made the sign. Imagine an anonymous painter from way back when adding this final touch, like an artist signing a canvas.
The typeface used for “Tutti Frutti” is like a racetrack for the eyes. It sends your gaze reeling around curves and jumping from letter to letter. I particularly like the first “U” and the way it connects one “T” with the next.
(Make sure you click on the image to see a larger version. You’ll better see the parallel lines that make up each letter.)
This sign has a showbizzy magnetism. It announces “Famous Foods” and the dense border of lightbulbs creates a carnival feeling. Step right up!
Yes, the use of green is predictable for a food shop. But take another look at the words “Tutti Frutti” and tell me you expected that.
The pure physicality of signs can be their most impressive trait. During a day of looking at words and images on screens, it’s often a relief to be confronted with a message that doesn’t scroll, that isn’t clickable, that’s so clearly made up of inflexible matter.
Here you see a doorpost at the entrance to a Spanish restaurant. Stucco, wood, metal, paint, screws: the construction is simple yet forceful and the saturated primary colours create a ferocious intensity.
The irony of my project? Sure, I’m escaping the world of pixels in my city walks, but at the same time I’m also returning, by translating my observations into… pixels!
What I enjoy about this type of sign is the fact that the words are assembled by hand. It’s a pleasingly low tech way of constructing a message.
It allows for easy revisions but it also invites creative mischief: Wouldn’t you love to shuffle the letters you see here to see what you could spell?
This sign is reminiscent of old movie theatre marquees. These days we’re more likely to encounter banks of LED lights when going to see a film: speedier to update I’m sure and no need for a stepladder.
If I recall correctly, this store was vacant when I took the photo. Who knows, perhaps the sign is already gone.
In a city known for politeness, it’s refreshing to come across a sign as blunt as this one. There’s no “Please” to soften the blow. This is an order!
I love the way the word “Block” is so much larger than the others, like a voice suddenly louder. If you listen to the tone of this sign, you’ll hear exasperation, with barely suppressed rage beneath the surface: You’ve done this a million times before, now stop!
The security camera adds a delicious final touch. Who knew Toronto could be so nasty?
I like signs that make you do a bit of work to read them. Here the tattoos on a cartoon muscleman indicate what the shop offers and the bulging letters take some time to decode. The artist faithfully conveys the way inked flesh makes graphic design elastic.
A shirtless man advertising a clothing shop: yeah, we’ve seen that before. But this is no Abercrombie boy. This is a king with a jagged crown, a mustachioed ruler who proclaims “In Vintage We Trust.” For his authoritative yet comical presence, doesn’t he deserve some respect?
TORONTO TYPE 