Breakfast in Scarborough

Yesterday I signed an on-line protest against a municipal proposal that might close some library branches and introduce elements of privatization. I am passionately opposed to these cost-cutting measures, for they would impoverish our city’s ability to uplift and educate all Torontonians regardless of age, language, or income. Our ninety-nine branches are a richly diverse expression of a city’s soul, providing a nexus of human connection in an increasingly fragmented and disconnected world.

City Hall Library’s Children’s Nook

A newcomer to Canada since 2002, I have spent the last four years blogging about all 99 branches in the Toronto Public Library system. As an experienced library pilgrim, the notion of a Toronto Private Library makes me shudder because privatization would desecrate the democratic ideals upon which the free library was established in 1883: “the free public library’s purpose was to help in the cause of education among all classes of the population” (Margaret Penman’s A Century of Service: Toronto Public Library 1883-1983, page 6).

Stairs to Upper Level, Agincourt Library

I do not want 128 years of progressive history to be demolished on a political whim. After all, libraries do not ride gravy trains. They don’t travel to expensive conferences in Hawaii or linger over lunches at the top of the CN Tower. And the tabloids seldom show pictures of library branches embroiled in sex scandals.

On the contrary, libraries are places to study for the TOEFL test, join a knitting circle, daydream from a window seat, create a crazy quilt, fill a shopping bag full of picture books for your children, and relax with a newspaper in your first language.

Historic Main Street Library‘s Attic

Barbara Frum Library

Crazy Quilt at Jones Library

If we commercialize one of the last truly public institutions in the city, what will be next? We cannot afford to lose ground, for we’ve lost so much already to a culture of greed, intrusive advertising, and the dominance of the profit motive. Libraries are too special, too important to betray their founding principles without a fight. It’s time to speak out against proposals that strike at the heart of a great city’s soul. Sign the petition, call the mayor, and help us protect our libraries.

Port Union Library

April Quan’s Woolen Castle at Deer Park Library

Mural at Morningside Library

Sand Doors Meditation, Collage by Catherine Raine, 2011

When I saw Marsel van Oosten’s photograph (2011) of a ruined Namibian house half full of sand, I immediately tore it out of National Geographic. The scraps of paper which compose the border mosaic come from brochures, magazines, and a calendar.

On my first visit to City Hall Library in 2007, I described it as “cozy yet important.” The small size of the branch (5,074 square feet) made it cozy, and what made it feel important was the lofty ceiling and serious grey walls (appropriate for its dignified status as co-tenant with Toronto’s municipal government offices).

After my second visit, I’d like to add the adjective “groovy” to complement cozy and important. In fact, grooviness saved City Hall from taking itself too seriously, as evidenced by this triangles-on-acid painting and the lively view of Nathan Phillips Square available from the south-facing windows.

I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed sitting in front of the south windows, for I noticed piles of magazines left behind by afternoon readers. (A staff member told me that they have lines out the door during lunch hour). Stacked at random on a long stone bench were slightly rumpled editions of People, Hello (“The Dazzling Duchess!”), Popular Science, Spiderman, and Vogue.

One weighty tome stood tall among the fluffier reading fare on the bench: Canada: An Illustrated History. And I personally added several more books to the piles of reading material: the colourful Let It Shine, a book about Albanians who sheltered Jews during World War Two (which one of my Albanian students had told me about), and a sample from the Chinese collection.

In spite of City Hall’s businesslike vibe, it contained a lot of interesting corners and angles that offered respite from the brisk pace of city life. For example, the small Children’s section was tucked away in the tail of a curved wall. Disc-shaped cushions silently invited readers to settle more comfortably into a beam of sunlight.

Most quirky and mysterious of all was a partially hidden staircase which led nowhere in classic Escher fashion. As I was taking pictures, I noticed a man in a suit walk down the top steps and then disappear behind the walls that hid the bottom half of the stairs. He quickly reappeared at the top, looking confused.

When I asked the temporary branch head, Karen Singer, about the steps, she explained that the library used to occupy more space (11,000 square feet) in the larger City Hall building. In 1996, a substantial part the library’s collection was transferred to Urban Affairs. That’s when the stairs were walled off from the current library space.

The confused staircase man could have benefited from Karen’s explanation, and I hope he eventually found his way out. Better still, I wish he had discovered the entrance to City Hall branch instead. Then he could have picked up a copy of Newsweek or even studied House of Stairs by the south windows in good scholarly company.

Thanks to a Toronto Public Library Map Pass, I received free admission to the Textile Museum of Canada yesterday afternoon. I saved fifteen dollars and gained a rewarding experience which nourished my imagination into the bargain!

Artistic Garage Door to Museum

In addition to the permanent collection, I enjoyed the gorgeous clothing and wall hangings on display as part of “Silk Oasis on the Silk Road: Bukhara” and the diverse elements of “Magic Squares: The Patterned Imagination of Muslim Africa in Contemporary Culture.”

Wrapper from Nigeria, 1970′s

Egyptian Door Hanging (1920-1929)

My favourite part of the library-sponsored trip was listening to the 99 attributes of God in Arabic as I sat on the floor in front of Alia Toor’s 99 dust masks embroidered with these Names. I don’t know how to read Arabic script, but I recognized a few of the words being recited into my ears via a pair of Sony headphones: Ar-Rahim (the Compassionate) and Al-Hakim (the Wise).

“99 Names of Aman” (2004) by Alia Toor

After I left the soul-enriching exhibit and was about to exit the building, a family of three entered the lobby. And what did they give the cashier at admissions? A library Map Pass, of course!

I was so looking forward to hearing Métis fiddler Anne Lederman perform at Centennial Library this evening, a program which the TPL website listed as starting at 6:15 with a 7 pm finish. I was crestfallen when I arrived at 6:30, only to be told that the event had ended at 6pm.

In a why-did-I-drive-for-45-minutes funk, I picked out a couple of soothing CD’s and returned to the parking lot. Thus endeth my first ever disappointment with a TPL library program. I think I’ll choose one a little closer to home next time!

I first wrote about Barbara Frum Library in a 2007 post called “Libraries, the Sequel,” which contained notes about seventeen branches. The blog has evolved a lot since then, and it’s Barbara Frum’s turn to receive more in-depth attention, complete with photos.

A large district branch near Lawrence and Bathurst, Barbara Frum was named in honour of the famed CBC broadcaster and journalist who died of leukemia shortly before the library opened in 1992.

Barbara’s library impressed me with its comfortable elegance, a composite of palm fronds, floral vine diamonds for carpet, high windows, and soaring ceilings. There were a few signs of wear and tear, including grafitti in the study rooms and a floor lounger with stuffing escaping from the back of the head, but it’s to be expected after nearly 20 years of existence at such a busy locale.

I loved the grand staircase to the second floor (and of course the one that led to the third floor). The landing provided a breathtaking perspective of the temple-like columns beside the main entrance.

The columned east lounge of the main level wowed me, and the Children’s Area in the west wing didn’t disappoint either. I was especially charmed by the friendly jester who stood at the centre of a semi-circular window bench on the north wall. An impromptu puppet show had recently taken place there, for a lone cow puppet lay discarded on the windowsill.

Further whimsicality was provided courtesy of some hand-painted chairs and a matching windowseat on the opposite end of the room from the jester in the window.

The multilingual collection was almost as immense as the sweepingly high walls, and it included the following languages: French, Hebrew, Hungarian, Russian, Tagalog, Chinese, Somali, and Yiddish.

Barbara Frum branch is also home to the Jewish Mosaic Collection, which contains a variety of materials on topics “such as anti-Semitism, the Holocaust, Jewish biographies, music, Kosher cooking and literature” (TPL website on the JMC).

With so much knowledge and beauty to offer, it’s fitting that such a classy community facility carries Barbara Frum’s name forward in memory: a distinguished branch for a distinguished lady.

Not far from the shores of Lake Simcoe, there’s a place where you can visit a small community library or make a banjo from a gourd.

Let me explain.

Last Tuesday I accompanied Stewart to Churchill (near Innisfil), where he was attending a banjo-making workshop run by Jeff Menzies. While Stewart was busy in Jeff’s studio, I spent the morning beside the lake and the afternoon at the Churchill branch of Innisfil Public Library.

One of four branches of the Innisfil Public Library system, Churchill’s small size, leafy setting, and friendly staff reminded me of the library in the small town where I grew up in the Midwest. And just as my mother used to take my brother and I on weekly library visits, several Churchill moms brought their kids to the local branch on Tuesday afternoon. One mother-daughter pair arrived with bicycle helmets and awesome summer reading habits, for the mom was able to talk her child into hurrying with the words: “Come on! We’ll be back tomorrow!”

I could definitely see why Churchill patrons would want to be regulars at such a welcoming branch. The librarian had reading suggestions for the parents and stickers for the kids, all of whom she knew by name (like I observed at Perth/Dupont branch in Toronto). In addition to a row of three computers with internet access, there was a nook reserved for children who wanted to play computer games.

With limited space upstairs, the basement was devoted to children’s programs. The librarian told me it was a “work in progress,” but I liked the lower level’s simplicity. It resembled the Baptist church basements of my childhood where I ate potluck suppers on metal chairs and sang about Zacchaeus in a sycamore tree and Jesus having the whole world in His hands.

I returned to the main floor to see if there was a French or multilingual collection. Although I didn’t find any foreign language offerings, I did notice a feature that the Toronto Public Library system lacks: a Reacher.

In the Romance section, I also noticed someone who didn’t seem to need a Reacher to gain access to an alluring shoulder: Lord Lightning. (Thank goodness he wasn’t called Lord Smog Advisory or Lord Drizzle).

I’d like to extend my thanks to Lord Lightning and the hospitable staff at Churchill branch for making my afternoon in their lakeside community such an enjoyable one!

Apparently, I haven’t quite exhausted my bookmark energy. Three more of them were waiting to manifest themselves!

I first learned about Rumi‘s 13th century sufi poetry in 2002, not long after I had immigrated to Canada. I was listening to a CBC Radio program and became transfixed by a beautiful voice reading Rumi’s verses. Soon afterwards, I bought the book pictured above and began filling it with bookmarks to facilitate access to my favourite lines, which later inspired various collages I made between 2007 and 2008:

Be melting snow

Wash yourself of yourself

A white flower grows in the quietness

Let your tongue be that flower.

Be a full bucket

Pulled up the dark way of a well

Then lifted out into light.

Why stay in prison

When the door is so wide open?

Keep knocking,

and the joy inside

will eventually open a window and . . .

see who’s there.

When I saw the recent announcement that Don Mills branch was hosting a program about Rumi, it was another knock on the door, to which I answered, “Yes! I would love to go!”

On Wednesday evening, I drove through the rain to the library. At five minutes before seven, the downstairs auditorium contained about twenty people, a number which rose to nearly fifty by the time the program ended at 8:15.

Our speaker was Tina Petrova, a remarkable woman who survived a 6,000 foot plunge in a jeep thirteen years ago. The spiritual crisis that she suffered as a result of feeling imprisoned in a broken body led her to consider suicide. On the darkest night of her soul, she had a dream in which Rumi’s poetry spoke to her. The dream gave her hope and a newly inspired purpose: create a gathering in Toronto to celebrate Rumi in song, dance, and the spoken word.

Back cover of Rumi: Whirling Dervish (Written and illustrated by Demi)

The Rumi celebration came to pass and Petrova’s continued immersion in the community of Rumi scholars and enthusiasts led to the making of a documentary film called Rumi: Turning Ecstatic, which we had the privilege to see on Wednesday night. In Petrova’s words, “the film made me” and the process took seven years. Her cinematic labour of love premiered in 2006 on Vision TV and has been screened in 15 countries, translated into three languages, and honoured by the United Nations and the World Bank.

Watching Rumi: Turning Ecstatic was a profound experience, all the more so because the film’s creator had just shared her story with us. We were mostly silent as we absorbed the narrative which combined Petrova’s spiritual autobiography, Rumi’s biography, scholarly commentary, and the sheer joy of peaceful dervishes in full twirl. My favourite part of the film was when Kabir Helminski quoted these verses: “Not only the thirsty seek the water — the water seeks the thirsty.” Two gentlemen in front of me actually gasped at the impact of these words.

All too soon, an automated voice announced that the library was closing in fifteen minutes. I picked up a couple of Rumi books from the display table near the door and checked them out in a reverie. As I travelled home in the heavy rain, I continued to marvel over the relevant depth and breadth of a mystic poet who left this world seven hundred years ago.

Wonderfully Non-linear Table of Contents from The Illuminated Rumi.

One of Demi’s Illustrations (page 24 of Rumi: Whirling Dervish)

May has turned out to be a very pro-collage month for me. May as well go with it and keep the glue sticks and scissors at the ready!

“Fiery Merman of the Falls” by Catherine Raine, 2011

“When Ruins Swoon” by Catherine Raine, 2011

“When Ruins Swoon” by Catherine Raine, 2011

“I Like This Face” by Catherine Raine, 2011

I started making this collage on Mother’s Day a couple of weekends ago. Mom had sent me the black and white image in the center of the butterfly a few years back, and near the top of the head she had written “I like this face!” in her distinctive handwriting. (It may be a little difficult to make out the words from this photograph).

Mom has an endearing habit of sending me articles she thinks I might enjoy or find useful for art projects. I’m super lucky to have such a thoughtful, creative, and quirky mother!

I continue to amuse myself by collaging bookmarks. (I know, it doesn’t take a lot to amuse me!)

I made a couple of them when I was on a retreat at Grail Springs and the other four at home.

The central image of “Lenin’s Mosaic” comes from a National Geographic article about Chernobyl. The photographer was Gerd Ludwig.

“Lenin’s Mosiac” by Catherine Raine, 2011

The scraps of paper which comprise the mosaic come from calendars, brochures, and magazines. I hope Lenin would have liked his eponymous mosaic or at the very least a bookmark.

As of today, Breakfast in Scarborough has had 10,027 views. Thank you, lovely readers, for proving me wrong when I initially doubted anybody would want to read about my library quest!

With lots of scraps on my collage table and extra blank strips of cardboard, I felt compelled to make more bookmarks!

It’s the last day of the Toronto Public Library’s Keep Toronto Reading month, so here’s the final installment of bookmarks to see off April. I hope you like the color combinations!

The bookmark series continues, and this time it’s all about purple and pink. I’d like to dedicate the purple ones to the memory of my artistic friend Jenny.

The bookmarks keep coming, this time in warm colors. Before the mini-collages disperse to various friends and colleagues, I’d like to record their images in blogland.

Lately I’ve been enjoying a relaxation technique called Make a Lot of Bookmarks and Give Them Away! I hope you enjoy the green bookmark collection, which includes two totem poles.

More bookmark images will follow this post in yellow, orange, red, pink, purple, and blue!

For the past few days I’ve been in the mood to make bookmarks. I’m planning to give them as gifts, so I thought I might record their presence here before they go on their way.

What books will they eventually inhabit, I wonder?

This bookmark celebrates the branch head of Bayview Library, Jerry Lomoro, who spoke with me on the phone before my visit to his branch. The bookmark’s muse kindly took me under his wing when I arrived on site Wednesday afternoon; he offered me tea, gave me a visitor’s badge, and told me about Bayview’s impressive circulation numbers (372,036 in 2010).

While he chatted with me, Jerry tidied up the remains of the Tea and Books event, which had just finished. It was actually the debut of the group’s meeting, and the turnout was very encouraging. More than a dozen patrons, mostly seniors, had gathered in front of the library’s only windows to discuss Writing in the Age of Silence.

The Tea and Books participants, mostly elderly, represented an earlier demographic in the library’s history. Jerry explained that nearby condominium construction in recent years had created more diversity: “It used to be pretty homogeneous, mainly seniors, Jewish or WASPy, but now we have more immigrant families. Last summer we had 80 kids in our reading program.”

The theme of last summer’s reading program was Destination Jungle, so I imagine one of those 80 children illustrated this fun jungle scene: an alligator gliding down a waterfall. Almost a year later, intrepid yet patient giraffes were still awaiting their turn to go down the falls.

I also enjoyed the bookmark contest display, which yielded the portrait of Jerry above. One child was more inspired by jungle animals than branch head librarians and drew this cheerful (yet non-sliding) giraffe on a bookmark.

Bayview’s Children’s Section promoted playfulness and creativity, especially with its tinted translucent circles that demarcated the north side of the area. Jerry told me that kids often peer at each other through the circles and play games with them. Library decor as entertainment is a fantastic concept!

The picture above doesn’t completely do justice to the wonderful depth of field present in Bayview’s award-winning design. Maybe this (slightly edited) description from my first visit to Bayview will do a better job:  “there’s a deepening of the space as you walk through the branch, carpeted steps bring you lower, as if the place where you first walk in the door is the deck of a large pool and the steps take you into the actual pool.”

There’s even a handrail to help you transition into the “pool” of children’s books at the centre of the branch. And the multi-coloured steps turn the ordinary act of descending stairs into something much more imaginative.

Around the corner from the kid’s area was a very pleasing nook. It was the kind of place that makes you want to do some homework, any homework.

Alas, I didn’t have any homework, so I had to make do with taking pictures of books. Even though Bayview is small, it has respectable Chinese, Korean, and French collections, so I had plenty of material to choose from.

Let me close this post with a big thank you to Jerry and the other library staff (especially Norm) for making me feel so welcome at their bustling yet restful branch. All of you deserve to have a bookmark in your honour!