Prompt 1: The Personal Past

The birth of a city usually predates one’s existence. Although rapid urban growth is the hallmark of the 21st century, very few people living in urban areas have witnessed, or contributed to the planning of a town, city, or any system of civilization, leaving many people with a bit of an asymmetric view of why a city behaves the way it does. Living in a world where our survival depends on our ability to adapt to new technologies, it makes sense that much of urban thought is oriented towards the idea of hyper-growth.

One doesn’t need to look far for examples of hyper-growth. But the one that stands out the most, for me, is the sleek, black-and-white office building that sits on 346 Spadina Ave, where generations of immigrant-born institutions used to thrive. It was first used as residences, then purchased by the Labour Lyceum, a Jewish worker’s union, in the 1920s. From there, we see it pass hands to the Yen Pin Place in the 1970s, and from then on, decades of ever-changing Chinatown dim-sum restaurants would pop in and out of place. Now, as an office building, it has been vacant since its emergence in 2018, serving as nothing more than a modern paperweight on what used to be an area of extreme activity.

When we witness a city on the decline, the most common response both from the citizens, and the government, is to encourage economic growth. But what happens when the injection of growth is misplaced, and ends up becoming a burden for the community, like the case of 346 Spadina Ave? What about cities, or sections of cities, which have declined to grow, but remain healthy, pleasant places to live? What can we learn from them?