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Listen to thisAs is often the case, I am writing my column this month while waiting for something. In the past, I have written this column on the beach, at the doctor’s office, on the train and in many other places where my purpose for being there had little to do with what I was writing about. Today, I find myself on a parking lot in the centre of Toronto. I am early for an appointment at a local school with one of my placement students and her field supervisor. I stopped at a local mall with a McDonald's Restaurant because I desperately needed a bathroom, and while I wouldn’t touch the food at McDonald's, their bathrooms are ok and more importantly free to use for anyone. Now I am back in my car, and for the first time in a while, I am taking the time to look around.
What I am looking at is ugly. In fact, no matter what direction I look in, I see nothing but ugly spaces. To my left is a dilapidated shop that advertises electronics, household items and gifts, as well as bankruptcy services, which seems like an odd combination. Behind me are a series of shops that sell things nobody wants; broken mannequins, used computers and even financial services from a store front that looks like the owner was not too successful in his or her own financial services endeavors. Just off to the side is a construction crew ripping up part of the parking lot; I can’t tell for what reason, but judging from the inactivity now that the pavement has been destroyed, it is not an urgent project. In front of me is an apartment building with twelve stories. The balconies appear rusted out, the colour scheme of the building is a horrific brown and grey, mixed with some orange around the windows, and a big sign on the roof announces that there are vacancies; I wonder why??
On the positive side, there is a Shopper’s Drug Mart (Canada’s largest chain of drugstores) off to the right, with a brand new store front that looks quite attractive. Having said that, now I notice that the store front is attached to a decrepit old building; it’s just a facade. The sign suggests a visit to the chain's website; I think I might, since the virtual world will likely be much more attractive than this real world of cement, garbage and endless dead end businesses. As I look around, I realize that I don’t like this place and that I can’t wait to get out of here. I am feeling boxed in by ugliness and urban decay. Nothing really lives here; everything is transient. These businesses won’t survive long, the apartments will fill up and empty out and fill up again, and even the concrete itself is being ripped up as I sit here, only to be replaced with more concrete.
I will get out of here soon; just get my site visit done, then I’m on my way. I'll pass some more places like this, but eventually I will get to choose where to go next. I think I'll choose a place that has some trees, a little grass and more attractive things to look at. Maybe I'll choose a place where people live, not just right now, but for long periods of time, perhaps generations of families. I'll choose a place where people hang out, mingle, talk to each other. Where there is some human noise, some human activity and better colour schemes. I feel the urge to go somewhere with a soul, somewhere that is alive and that has spirit. This dead world of second rate building materials slapped together for temporary practicality is dampening my spirits; I feel profoundly uninspired, almost depressed.
As I find comfort in my anticipation of better, more beautiful spaces, I start thinking about what it might be like not to have such anticipation. What if this space was all there is? All I can access; all that I know. What if I had to adjust my life to fit this ugly space? I find the thought panic-invoking; I realize that I would be ill-equipped to live here. I wouldn’t know where to go, what to do or, for that matter, why bother doing anything at all. The rotten core of this place would take me over, control me and make me rotten too. I would live life without inspiration. The point of tomorrow would be to make yesterday possible.
I’ve met a lot of youth who live in places like this. I know many families, often headed by single moms, who try to teach their kids in places like this. There are schools in places like this where kids go to every day to open their minds and receive new thoughts and ideas. And then the bell rings, they pour out of the school building into” into what? Concrete hell, dead space and broken dreams. I imagine what it would be like to learn about the life cycle of a tree and not be able to see confirmation of this where I live. I wonder what it would be like to walk through the neighbourhood, head down, look at no one and aim for the fa–ade of beauty attached to the core of ugliness, just to pick up some essentials. I wonder what I would feel as a parent letting my kids out to play with their friends in front of the ugly apartment building. What would they be inspired by? Brown mixed with orange? Fast food? Concrete parking lots?
I haven’t thought too much about the role of aesthetics in my life, or in anyone’s life. It occurs to me now that what we look at very likely affects what we are able to see. When we look at ugliness, we are not likely to see the things that are always beautiful: the human spirit, our Self, and our many capacities, such as love, loyalty and kindness. Ugliness, I suspect, breeds rotten thoughts, rotten feelings and rotten dispositions. It’s hard to be inspired by that. But then I think about what this might mean for us, as child and youth workers. Perhaps there is a way of bringing beauty back into the equation. Nothing stops us from creating beautiful spaces where children, youth and families live. Our group homes could be beautiful. So could special education classrooms, psychiatric hospital wards, community centres, recreation facilities and all the other spaces where we frequently find ourselves when being with kids. I wonder what would happen, for us, for the kids and for our relationships, if we placed greater emphasis on furthering beauty in our work and our work spaces, and in their lives and their life-spaces.
I suspect that we underestimate aesthetics in our everyday professional conduct. I will leave you this month with another observation. My office at Ryerson University is in a section of the downtown core of Toronto, an urban area of about 5 million people. Within one kilometer of my office, there are (according to a colleague) over 100 social service organizations, including several homeless shelters, mental health centres, youth shelters, family counseling programs and the like. Outside of the building where I work, there are many, many individuals who live on the streets, who pan handle to get by or who look like they have recently been victimized by violence. The streets are ugly, garbage and litter are common, and many of the residential areas are falling apart. My building, on the other hand, is quite beautiful, clean, spacious, air conditioned in the summer and well-heated in the winter. The building is always open, accessible to anyone. Security is non-existent for the most part, unless someone calls for security. And yet, I notice that none of the homeless individuals, the pan handlers, the destitute and marginalized ever enter. Why not, I wonder? I don’t think it’s their fear of security guards. And I don’t think it has anything to do with feeling alienated in an academic space. I think it has to do with the barriers that exist between ugly spaces and beautiful places. The former are the everyday spaces of many (but certainly not all) of the youth I have spent time with; the latter are the places that create the facade of openness and accessibility. But if I really think about it, my building is attached to the rest of the neighbourhood, just like that beautiful storefront of the Shopper’s Drugmart. I take that beauty for granted because it is always there for me. Many others know that nothing changes when you step in, because a facade can’t hide the fact that their life-spaces are rotten to the core.
The next time I come across one of those very local and very grassroots neighbourhood beautification projects that unfold in many large urban areas, I think I might lend a hand and give some cash. Suddenly, as I sit in my car surrounded by ugliness, these projects seem like a really good idea.
