Disguised as an unassuming beige box, Northern Elms Library (2005) proved to be an oasis in a concrete desert. Although strip-malls along Kipling and Rexdale compassed it round, this small branch offered quiet and sunlight to its urban patrons.
From a black cushioned chair in front of the east window, I absorbed solar energy while I admired Northern Elms’ compactness. Moderately busy on an October Saturday, the library’s entire holdings fit into one room.
Dark orange, creamy yellow, and pale green covered the walls, and the floor tiles echoed these colours in both swirly and linear patterns. Composed almost entirely of glass, the south wall easily delivered light for the entire outfit and nourished extrovert flowers beside a wooden lattice.
Hovering from the ceiling in the Children’s section was a circular structure that looked like a UFO mothership. However, it differed from commonplace spaceships in that it was tricked out with four dainty hanging lamps.
Closer to the ground, a yellow table top in the shape of a fried egg was joined by a red chair with a heart-shaped back, a yellow one with a flower back, and a green smiley-face chair.
This corner of the library wasn’t just about the cheery furniture, though. On my first visit in 2009, gravitas was added by mysterious images of spiral galaxies and nebulas on a nearby bulletin board. When I returned in 2013 to take pictures of the branch, the board’s theme was “Fall Into Reading.”
Don’t let Northern Elms’ small size fool you. Its grounded yet cosmic appeal transcends gas stations, money markets, power lines, and parking lots.
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