The area around Richmond and Spadina is full of stately old factories and warehouses, many destined for the wrecking ball or ubiquitous condo development. Nearly ten years ago, a developer with some foresight and ingenuity decided to take one of these buildings and turn it into a space for artists and like-minded organizations. The Varsity recently paid a visit to 401 Richmond, an oasis of creativity smack-dab in the middle of gritty downtown.
I never thought I could fall in love with a building. Big, boring rectangular brick boxes containing stairs to get from level to level, corridors to get from room to room, doors to go in and out. Like washrooms, they are not worthy of spending any more time in than absolutely necessary.
Then one day I walk through big glass doors near the corner of Richmond and Spadina and feel as though I’ve stepped into a building where the very structure itself is absolutely wonderful. The first hall I walk down opens onto a courtyard on the right, with huge windows revealing a tapestry shop and art gallery on the left. Turning the first corner, I read the words written in electrical tape: “I expanded my manhood and elevated my libido & nothing happened.” At the same time a woman’s voice floats through speakers, reading an unending list of things she feels guilty about. Already, this is the most fascinating building I’ve ever been in, and I haven’t been inside a single room or talked to any people.
Further on, I see a room of full of people sitting on chairs. Upon closer inspection it is like a surreal mirage-what I see are actually chairs being used to screen videos of people sitting in chairs. And on it goes, down the halls with artistic expression on the walls provoking my curiosity, and drawing me further inside to see yet more.
My head is bursting with questions: What is this building? How did it get here? Who is responsible for it? And when can I move in? Not being employed as a full-time private investigator of urban spaces, my time was up for this visit. But on my way out, I took note of the big numbers stationed on the building’s north side facing Richmond St. West: 401.
At home, I went straight to the computer, desperately searching for answers about this mysterious place teeming with creativity from every window and wall. Finding out more about it, I felt I should have known all along: 401 Richmond is place of and for art. The definition of art, however, is not limited in a traditional way-there are hat makers, graphic designers, web designers, film festivals, photography, humanitarian organizations (art for the soul perhaps), as well as the usual dancers, musicians, and art galleries. The building was shaped for artists and seems to be just about the perfect environment for them. The only problem today is getting in (as the building is bustling and full, with a waiting list for other eager arts organizations who want to move in).
How did a place like this come about? With some creative thinking, naturally. As 401’s Web site (www.401richmond.net) dutifully informs, the building was originally a factory of the Macdonald Manufacturing Company, producing lithography on tinware. Built between 1899 and 1923 with two four-story extensions (looking like the letter “A” from above), it was a typical industrial building of early 20th century Toronto. After it was sold in 1967, the building went through a few owners until 1994, when it was in such disrepair that it was no longer worth the costs of upkeep.
At the same time, developer Margie Zeidler was working for Artspace (an organization dedicated to finding workspace for artists). She realized the potential of bringing the creativity and energy of artists to an old factory that was on the cusp of destruction. With the help of her father’s development company and in spite of the risky investment of making a 90-year-old building liveable again, Zeidler redesigned the building to fit the needs of artists. She built in some key features that made the building’s tenants fall in love with the place where they work: many of the original materials were preserved and refurbished, such as the brick walls, and wooden floors; there is a light-filled courtyard in the centre, a rooftop garden on the uppermost level, a cafe on the ground floor, and a daycare centre right in the building.
The true test of the success of 401 Richmond is how the tenants have responded and adapted to working there. It seems the artistic community in Toronto was starving for a place like this and delved into it as soon as it came along. Talking to the lucky people who work there is telling. Erin MacKeen, project manager and communications person for 401 Richmond, took me to a favourite place of many of the occupants, the roof garden. Now ubiquitous in many downtown lofts and office buildings, 401 was among the first places to champion a communal rooftop garden. It is used for everything: meetings, lunches, meditating; and the ingredients of the vegetable patch are used in the Loftus Lloyd café.
Many of the lucky bees that work in this hive were happy to chat about working in such an unusual and creative space. It made sense to start with the most basic figure in an arts-related building-the visual artist. I found one sitting around in Gallery 401 on the second floor taking notes, admiring the people who were in turn admiring his art. Artist Shapur’s exhibition was a fascinating experiment with what light-sensitive robots will paint when equipped with brushes and paint. He has the robots on display with their work and a video showing them on the job rolling around the canvas, dragging brushes set to the music of cool jazz. Shapur says that he wanted to show his art at 401 because he likes the place. “So many people go through it constantly with similar interests, like students,” he notes. Unlike in the galleries in Yorkville or on Queen West, he enjoys showing his art to communicate, but not necessarily to sell it.
Down the hall, Winnie Lyuk of the Inside Out Gay/Lesbian Film Festival (the next one is scheduled for May 2003) is a typical co-resident of Shapur’s, who might go see his work on the way in or out of her office. She says that it’s a great environment, especially with two other film festivals in the building. “I’m always promoting other groups in the building,” she’s pleased to admit, “And they promote us too.” Lyuk’s first impression of the building was similar to mine, she says. “From the moment I came for an interview, I wanted to work here.”
Walking further down the hall, I try not to be captivated by the mesmerizing art on the walls, as I do have a job to do. I knew from my preliminary research that there were some workers at non-profit organizations, artists in their own way who use their hearts more than often than their eyes. The Roots of Empathy organization tries to instill empathy (the ability to care for another person’s feelings) in children and adults. They work to foster good parents and to reduce bullying among children. The building is a perfect place for the organization, says Gale, who works for the group. “Everyone in the building is friendly,” she enthuses. “You can hear children from the daycare. When it’s raining, they take the children up and down the halls in strollers. You can hear them laughing and playing… it’s really great.”
My tour of this grand building nearly over, I recalled that MacKeen had mentioned her favourite part of the building was the Gwendolyne Hat Shop. I could see why when I got there. The walls were lined with colourful original hats of all kinds. You wouldn’t expect to see a handmade hat store in the middle of downtown Toronto in the year 2003 (with the possible exception of charming milliner Lilliput Hats on trendy College St.), but here it was. Co-owner William Brown says that he and his partner have been with the building from the beginning. They love their fourth floor view of the garden and their windows that let in so much light. But William also thinks that there’s more to the building that the structure itself. There’s also “a tremendous amount of energy created” when you bring a group of artists together like this, he explains. He says that there’s a constant ripple effect: as ideas of all the artists and tenants in the building spread around, they crisscross, and “it brings people together and shows how vital they are together.”
Judging by his work and that of his colleagues in the rest of the building, the effect is almost like magic. The building works because those that work inside it have created their own cooperative, cultural atmosphere. Brown justly puts the developers of the building right beside their historical counterparts: “The Zeidlers,” he says, “are like the modern-day Medicis.”
