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| - For over a year now I have been quietly peeking at the progress of this building's birth. I even think birth is more appropriate than rebirth. Because I never remember seeing it before. I know I was in there before, but I never saw it.
As you walk across Dundas Street, or even drive along it, if you decide to stop or if you are stuck in the sludge of bumper to bumper entering the heart of Chinatown, it doesn't matter, because one look at this building, even from its early stages, kept you moving like you were gliding to the Olympic glory in the luge event.
Frank Gehry, originally a Torontonian, was the mastermind behind this building which stretches from McCaul Street along Dundas seemingly forever towards Spadina. It's quite amazing that with its simplicity you can feel that much movement in it.
As you enter the AGO, it's all revamped, (it's entrance much grander on Dundas instead of where ever it was before), and once you get past the drones at the front and start to experience it, you'll find yourself walking in and out of a ramp that leads you towards the exhibits. (to be honest, now that I think about it, perhaps these ramps were for wheelchair access, but for everyone else I'm sure they were much more about walking through some silky wave of wood for no other reason than to do just that.)
It is not so easy, though, to arrive at that experience, for the staff (herein lies my biggest problem with the AGO) just nitpicks with you, making you feel like you have to check your coats and your bags (are they afraid I'm going to stuff Picasso in my purse? - and no, i don't have a purse, nor a murse, but it sounded better).
As you walk towards the centre of the building you find yourself approaching one of the spiral staircases (this being the one you can fully see from the inside, the other on the back of the building, outside). The staircase keeps its company with the swirled ramps in front, both in colour and fluidity. This sensibility is perpetuated even with the chairs that sit in the atrium which houses this staircase. (I had to go and sit in them and touch them.)
The next most exciting and perhaps, really the most breathtaking sight in the entire building was the inside of the glass covered skeleton of a wall/roof that runs along Dundas. (The Gallery Italia, as per Alejandro A.). You truly do feel like you are either in the belly of Noah's ark or a fly behind the gutted out carcass of Andre the Giant, let's say. Something operatic should play there. God should be belting out all your sins at you in there, or showing you how to laugh again.
I most enjoyed the contemporary art exhibits (the whole place is filled with really exciting stuff), probably because of the enormity of the white rooms in which they were hung or installed. (My personal favorite vote for the creepiest piece of all was this elongated bust of a man's head made of real hair and silicone - detailed even down to stubble hairs. so creepy.)
This is what I didn't enjoy AT ALL. Everyone is so paranoid about people touching things. Now I can understand that this is valid, clearly for certain things - more deterioration will happen over time with more touching. So block it off then! And they do put a barrier on some things, but not on others. For example, there is a gargantuan trunk of a tree lying on its side in the Gallery Italia that is made of some metal and other stuff (that generality comes from my not being allowed to touch it.). I ran my hand along it, and some boob security guard said, (and if there was a title for this review it'd be this) "DON'T TOUCH THE ART, SIR". Go look for that short pier and run towards it I say. It's almost oxymoronic to make that statement. Art is there to make you feel, to tantalize you, to disturb you, to ENGAGE THE BODY, NOT THE MIND. The mind stuff happens after when you are having coffee or when you think you have something important to say or when you need to "GET IT". I was even asked to step back from a painting that was covered by glass for fear of an accident happening. (what? like a seizure, which would make the floor vibrate and then the walls, causing the painting to pop off, smash the glass and pierce the canvas? you mean like that? - Go buy some Timberland boots and find a mountain to climb, I say.) Even taking pictures was a problem. Why? because it is Frank Gehry's design and those pictures are infringing on copyright. Right. So Gehry creates a mountain, and we cannot try to document our experience of it. There is no damaging with flashes here. Not necessary with today's technology.
To sum it up, the AGO is a business more than a cultural icon. That's the way they pass themselves off at least.
So thank you Frank, and go fly a kite AGO, I say. (maybe you'll discover something - like your 5 senses.)
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