From my seat at a wooden table in the north wing of Dufferin/St. Clair Library (1921), I can see books in Italian, Portuguese, and Spanish on the shelves to the right. On my left, four square columns in grooved wood separate me from the large central hall, location of the famous Reid and MCarthy mural (1925-32).
Confined to a painted arch, the panel entitled “Community” is most visible from my perspective. In this tableau, robed figures recline on boulders and lean against trees. Their receptive poses seem ideal for absorbing wisdom from their spiritual leader, a tall man with a beige jacket draped over his shoulders. His slack sleeves flap as he stands with a beige book in his hands, and lack of eye contact has made his audience inattentive.
More than static stoicism of the figures, it is the mural’s greens and browns that draw me into the next room to take a closer look at the entire piece. The mural’s panels cover the four walls of the original main room of Earl’s Court Library (1921), presenting a total of ten arches that frame different scenes: Community, Nature Study (seekers draped on large stones that ring a delicious pool of water), The Story Hour, The Family, Philosophy, and forest scenes with square windows gleaming between tree trunks.
In the four corners of the room, torches with scrolls wrapped around their bases fill the spaces between the panels’ arches. The scrolls bear the names of Tennyson, Carlyle, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Dickens, Scott, Kipling, and Barrie (echoing the names on the stained glass windows at Weston Library).
On the north and south walls, the spandrels contain blank open books with quill pens placed diagonally across them. More torches appear, this time with scrolls inscribed with Science, Art, History, Biography, Romance, Adventure, Religion, and Philosophy.
On the whole, I like the mural’s classical yet down-home sensibility, and I’m very glad the library decided to restore it. My only hesitation concerns the historical context of the figures’ clothing. Some of the outfits reference the toga, but others are more generic shapeless garments suitable for outdoor lounging in a variety of eras. Are the mural’s inhabitants ancient Greeks or mythical Canadians discussing literature in the bush? As long as everybody keeps reading and learning, perhaps the answer is not important.
Turning my attention from the mural’s mysteries, I find the Teen’s Section in a corner room off the main hall behind the checkout desk. Two benches that meet at a right angle compose a study nook, complete with table. There’s also a row of computers, a listening station equipped with headphones, and a nearby window bench.
Moving to the south wing, the Children’s Area is equally well-appointed, with wide, high windows, comfortable benches, and bright walls in lime green and dark purple. Even the bookshelves manage to be cheerful and fun; circular mirrors attached to their sides allow very young children to regard their reflections. Overhead, an amiable wooden dragon offers his tail as a frame for a KidsStop sign. The majority of the dragon’s body lies flush against the wall, but its tail juts into space, effectively folding the creature in half.
Below the wall-dragon is a magical entryway made of crossed wooden arches resembling a cathedral vault. The path under the arches leads to the KidsStop playroom which boasts a wooden puppet theatre and a large wooden dragon in the centre. On the dragon’s flanks hang magnetic letters, a colour wheel, a spin-a-story game, and a lever to press for the song “Heads, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes.”
Against two walls, a low wrap-around bench stores books underneath its seat, and a giant Read to Your Bunny book is attached to another wall for a stand-and-read experience. Opposite the arched entryway at floor level is a shadow box framed by a wavy red border. The box contains a phone that connects to Dial-a-Story, a library service that allows kids to listen to stories in a variety of languages.
Not to be outdone by the main hall, the playroom (formerly called the Children’s Clubroom) has its own recently restored mural, which was painted by Doris McCarthy in 1932.
Cinderella dominates the west wall, and in her loose-fitting gown she looks like an effervescent flapper, more apt to do the Charleston than waltz round a ballroom. The prince is handsome, but the gold nodules on his crown appear to have unnerved his love interest.
The south wall belongs to Jack and the Beanstalk. In this section, Jack’s mother is trying to dissuade him from climbing the stalk, even though the giant doesn’t look very intimidating in cross-gartered slippers. There’s also a diaphanous fairy with wings who bends over a window. With the window frame to support her upper body weight, her toes are free to dangle in a flower bed.
Jack the Giant Killer, Goldilocks and the Three Bears, Hansel and Gretel, and Puss-n-Boots occupy the east wall, where Mama Bear’s apron and a candy cane chimney stand out as interesting details. In contrast, Jack’s sword and the drop of blood oozing from the giant’s dead mouth make for disconcerting viewing.
The north wall is devoted to Little Red Riding Hood. In these panels, instructions are given by the mother and forgotten by the daughter, which results in a dangerous encounter. However, the wolf looks so outrageously comfy in his stolen pink nightgown and cap, he seems more likely to drift off into a deep sleep than gobble up a red-caped flibbertigibbet. (Perhaps Doris McCarthy painted the wolf to look so cuddly to avoid frightening very small library patrons).
Surveying all four walls, I admire the imaginative system of borders that unifies the entire composition. The borders also ground the murals in the natural world; the top border contains rows of owls with leafy vines separating each bird while the side borders feature squirrels instead.
After passing back under the arches, I return to the main part of the south wing, noting a Preschool Lounge with a long window bench, computers, and circular tables with plastic chairs.
My final stop is the Earl’s Court Room, a combination study hall, community meeting room, and local history repository. As I gaze at old photographs of Earl’s Court, I reflect on what I admire about this historic yet colourful branch: the braided green of the central mural’s borders, the pink and white quilt of the youngest bear, and the gold of the prince’s playful crown.
