Michelle's been kicking around Just Call Me Jack since the beginning: cooking frittatas, editing invites, baking wonton wrappers (below, on the left), and generally taking care. She wrote this site-specific piece to read aloud at a closing event for Jeremy Kai's Archi-Eclectica alongside Irfan Ali and Thom Thor Buchanan.
Thank you all!
Thank you all!
Michelle Kay:
I wrote this after a visit to the Toronto Archives, which is a fantastic place for research and learning about the city’s history. Carey originally asked me to read something inspired by Jeremy Kai’s photographs.
Jeremy’s work captures spaces and buildings within the GTA and Ontario that are not seen by many or are abandoned structures. Because Jeremy’s photos involve exploration and curiosity, the idea of secrets and what lies beneath popped into my head. Buildings are like people, filled with histories not immediately apparent.
The idea of looking into Just Call Me Jack Gallery’s history became the focal point for this piece. The Toronto Archives is a resource open to the public with directories listing house owners and maps. When I looked up the history of the house the gallery is in, I discovered that it was built between 1880 and 1884. At some point, it was owned by a man named WM Black, so this is an imaginary letter I wrote to Mr. Black, updating him on the state of his house and city.
---
Dear Mr. Black,
Can I call you WM? It’s been a while since you’ve stepped into your old house, and I thought it would be appropriate to give you an update, especially since I’m standing in your bedroom with a bunch of people.
I think you’ll be happy to know that your former abode, the one that used to be made of wood has since been renovated and rebuilt with brick. Wood just wasn’t practical in this wintery climate—but don’t worry. The change has been for the better. The house is still a warm and inviting place.
In fact, its current tenant is a woodworker, much like you were. I’m sure that if you were to walk around examining the contents, you’ll find many familiar tools and offcuts. I guess some things tend to stick despite the passing of years.
The bedroom you used to share with your wife and family is now a part-time art gallery. Having been a carpenter, you probably appreciate well-crafted creations. I assure you that all the artists that have shown here are a talented and contemplative bunch. You’d be proud to have them.
Are you curious about how things have changed in your former hometown? Because I’m curious about how things used to be. I’d love to know if you saw the same things I do when I look out of the window. Was that tree a sapling back then? In the mornings I hear the squeals of children at the public school across the street. In the evening, I hear teenagers laughing and smell their skunky marijuana. It’s a sign of an enjoyable spring evening, I guess.
The lot that used to be on the west side of Dufferin is now a strange collective art and studio space. What did your Toronto smell like back then? I’m more than happy to share some of my observations with you. Brace yourself, WM.
The city you once knew, with thirty thousand souls, has exploded into two point seven million people. In fact, Toronto is now Canada’s largest city. It’s considered an industrial, financial and cultural hub.
That little Victorian town that you knew isn’t a town anymore.
Back then there used to be Little Richmond Street and Little Adelaide Street. Well, they’re no longer little. They’ve grown into Richmond Street and Adelaide Street, bloated, monstrous veins transporting people westbound and eastbound to an area now known as the Entertainment District, which is full of large funhouses called “clubs.” Young men sometimes strut about in crocodile-skin shoes and gold chains, peacock posing.
I imagine your Toronto, when it was evolving into an industrial powerhouse, felt exciting. I moved to the city for that hustle and bustle. The dizzying pace of life is intoxicating and alluring.
But Toronto’s always felt ambitious, hasn’t it?
It’s still an expanding empire, a colonial kind of city drawing folks in from all over the world. People flock to Toronto for work and opportunity. A point of pride for the city is that it’s considered one of the most multicultural places in the world.
If you’re curious about Toronto’s appearance, I must admit, it’s difficult to pin down the city’s precise look. From above it seems like a sprawling web, an entangled, heaving mass. Its architecture isn’t cohesive and there isn’t one exact style that defines the city.
Truthfully, Toronto is not immediately beautiful, but in a way, that’s exactly what makes it beautiful. Its architecture has been called “Soviet Chic” and “butt-ugly.” Not exactly complimentary.
I don’t completely disagree there. Toronto definitely has no shortage of eye sores. Especially if you were to stroll along the Lakeshore. You’re probably used to the unobstructed view of Lake Ontario. Sadly, the downtown core is now a breeding ground for tall, high-rise buildings and these housing units called condominiums, which are devoid of personality. In order to build these buildings, we use machines called cranes, which have also been cropping up in the area like weeds in fertile and unmanaged grounds.
All of this can make the city seem daunting, mechanical and spiritless. Yet, I remain faithful in my belief that the beautiful things in Toronto, the real gems of the city are hidden.
Yes, Toronto has flaws. Yes, it’s miserly and cantankerous and impatient at times. The city can come across as abrasive, dull, lackluster. But we know not to judge a book by its cover. A city, like a person is complex and shrouded in layers. It has a history and scars but also ambitions and goals.
A city also goes through bad days or months or mayoral terms, but maybe that’s what’s actually loveable about Toronto. You have to dig and be patient and open-minded to find the diamonds encrusted in the concrete.
Rest assured, WM, the city you left behind, is filled with enthusiastic and passionate people who have a deep love and concern for Toronto. They are dedicated to making it a better place.
And the house you left behind? Don’t worry, it’s in good hands.
I wrote this after a visit to the Toronto Archives, which is a fantastic place for research and learning about the city’s history. Carey originally asked me to read something inspired by Jeremy Kai’s photographs.
Jeremy’s work captures spaces and buildings within the GTA and Ontario that are not seen by many or are abandoned structures. Because Jeremy’s photos involve exploration and curiosity, the idea of secrets and what lies beneath popped into my head. Buildings are like people, filled with histories not immediately apparent.
The idea of looking into Just Call Me Jack Gallery’s history became the focal point for this piece. The Toronto Archives is a resource open to the public with directories listing house owners and maps. When I looked up the history of the house the gallery is in, I discovered that it was built between 1880 and 1884. At some point, it was owned by a man named WM Black, so this is an imaginary letter I wrote to Mr. Black, updating him on the state of his house and city.
---
Dear Mr. Black,
Can I call you WM? It’s been a while since you’ve stepped into your old house, and I thought it would be appropriate to give you an update, especially since I’m standing in your bedroom with a bunch of people.
I think you’ll be happy to know that your former abode, the one that used to be made of wood has since been renovated and rebuilt with brick. Wood just wasn’t practical in this wintery climate—but don’t worry. The change has been for the better. The house is still a warm and inviting place.
In fact, its current tenant is a woodworker, much like you were. I’m sure that if you were to walk around examining the contents, you’ll find many familiar tools and offcuts. I guess some things tend to stick despite the passing of years.
The bedroom you used to share with your wife and family is now a part-time art gallery. Having been a carpenter, you probably appreciate well-crafted creations. I assure you that all the artists that have shown here are a talented and contemplative bunch. You’d be proud to have them.
Are you curious about how things have changed in your former hometown? Because I’m curious about how things used to be. I’d love to know if you saw the same things I do when I look out of the window. Was that tree a sapling back then? In the mornings I hear the squeals of children at the public school across the street. In the evening, I hear teenagers laughing and smell their skunky marijuana. It’s a sign of an enjoyable spring evening, I guess.
The lot that used to be on the west side of Dufferin is now a strange collective art and studio space. What did your Toronto smell like back then? I’m more than happy to share some of my observations with you. Brace yourself, WM.
The city you once knew, with thirty thousand souls, has exploded into two point seven million people. In fact, Toronto is now Canada’s largest city. It’s considered an industrial, financial and cultural hub.
That little Victorian town that you knew isn’t a town anymore.
Back then there used to be Little Richmond Street and Little Adelaide Street. Well, they’re no longer little. They’ve grown into Richmond Street and Adelaide Street, bloated, monstrous veins transporting people westbound and eastbound to an area now known as the Entertainment District, which is full of large funhouses called “clubs.” Young men sometimes strut about in crocodile-skin shoes and gold chains, peacock posing.
I imagine your Toronto, when it was evolving into an industrial powerhouse, felt exciting. I moved to the city for that hustle and bustle. The dizzying pace of life is intoxicating and alluring.
But Toronto’s always felt ambitious, hasn’t it?
It’s still an expanding empire, a colonial kind of city drawing folks in from all over the world. People flock to Toronto for work and opportunity. A point of pride for the city is that it’s considered one of the most multicultural places in the world.
If you’re curious about Toronto’s appearance, I must admit, it’s difficult to pin down the city’s precise look. From above it seems like a sprawling web, an entangled, heaving mass. Its architecture isn’t cohesive and there isn’t one exact style that defines the city.
Truthfully, Toronto is not immediately beautiful, but in a way, that’s exactly what makes it beautiful. Its architecture has been called “Soviet Chic” and “butt-ugly.” Not exactly complimentary.
I don’t completely disagree there. Toronto definitely has no shortage of eye sores. Especially if you were to stroll along the Lakeshore. You’re probably used to the unobstructed view of Lake Ontario. Sadly, the downtown core is now a breeding ground for tall, high-rise buildings and these housing units called condominiums, which are devoid of personality. In order to build these buildings, we use machines called cranes, which have also been cropping up in the area like weeds in fertile and unmanaged grounds.
All of this can make the city seem daunting, mechanical and spiritless. Yet, I remain faithful in my belief that the beautiful things in Toronto, the real gems of the city are hidden.
Yes, Toronto has flaws. Yes, it’s miserly and cantankerous and impatient at times. The city can come across as abrasive, dull, lackluster. But we know not to judge a book by its cover. A city, like a person is complex and shrouded in layers. It has a history and scars but also ambitions and goals.
A city also goes through bad days or months or mayoral terms, but maybe that’s what’s actually loveable about Toronto. You have to dig and be patient and open-minded to find the diamonds encrusted in the concrete.
Rest assured, WM, the city you left behind, is filled with enthusiastic and passionate people who have a deep love and concern for Toronto. They are dedicated to making it a better place.
And the house you left behind? Don’t worry, it’s in good hands.