9 Hanna Avenue

In 1991 I was finishing the second semester of my final year at the Ontario College of Art and Design University. I was a student in the Faculty of Experimental Art. I spent 4 years on the Fifth Floor in the legendary Stewart Building on College Street in Toronto. The energy and dynamic of being in the epicentre of collective creativity and ingenuity was as important as the knowledge I acquired from my professors and instructors.

It was beyond a school; it was a hub of innovation, invention, discourse and critical thinking. I literally lived at the Stewart Building where I would spend roughly 12 hours a day including weekends painting and creating. The Fifth-Floor corner studio was a refuge for me, so once my final critiques, exams and evaluations were completed the safe sensation of security was replaced by the notion of, where do I go next.

Once I graduated my priority was to find a studio I could afford. Within a few weeks, I found a place where a colleague and I could paint.  I had embarked upon the glorious 9 Hanna Avenue in King West District of Downtown Toronto in an area now called Liberty Village.

The Old King West District was highly industrial and full of buildings that once served the manufacturing sector.  Railways tracks were laid across the community in the 1850’s which isolated and cut the community off from the rest of the city. The Toronto Central Prison, and the Women’s Reformatory were located in this district. By the 1980’s and 1990’s most of the structures were left derelict rusting out as remnants from an antiquated bygone era due to a shift from rail to road shipping.

Number 9 Hanna Avenue was originally built as a munitions factory during the Second World War. One could discover reminders of its initial function with minimal inspection. I recall discovering an endless supply of discarded wood panels and metal.  At the time I was using routers and power tools to cut lines, shapes and symbols into wood, so I was able to utilize these found materials in a purposeful manner.     

At first glance this building would have appeared abandoned and ready for demolition On the contrary, in fact this mammoth open interior space was teaming with occupants. Most of the second floor could be described as a poorly lit, dusty and dirty common area roughly the size of a football pitch with an exceedingly high ceiling.  

This once bustling factory also contained a maze of corridors and units that functioned as studios, underground business, shadowy activities and illegal dwellings.  In a sense there was a thriving community that dwelled beneath the proverbial urban surface.  

There was very little running water in the building except for an obscenely vulgar and disgusting, filthy washroom that could easily rival “The Worst Toilet in Scotland” scene from the Scottish film Trainspotting.  

My studio was on the second floor on the far east end of the building. There was an eastern exposure of light coming from the multiple paned semi translucent warehouse windows. Occupying the south, east corner was an archaic no longer functioning conveyor belt that pointed towards a mysterious pair of train rails on the building’s exterior. It looked to be a loading area for explosives, shells, bombs and armoury.  

The iconic Irwin Toys Building was situated directly east and could be perfectly observed out of my studio windows. The 5-story building was also somewhat decrypted with its brownish red brick façade and rusted silver water tower.

There was a paradoxical romantic tone to my studio, the building and the entire district. Slightly ghost town-esque, it was for decades a forgotten locale, obscurely existing of crumbling abandoned buildings, rusted industrial equipment, vermin and pigeons in a sea of broken glass and windows.    

Old King West District is now known as Liberty Village. An area where many of the industrial buildings and old factories have been revamped and renovated into high density luxury condominiums.  Sadly, the original 9 Hanna Avenue structure was demolished to make way for a new building that is used by the Toronto Police Traffic Services.

I often think about my first studio. This was a time in my life when I was naïve, idealistic and impulsive. I pioneered in this space, prolifically inventing techniques and developing a set of aesthetics that would evolve sequentially into the creative formation I’m known for today.

For memories are the faculty of encoding and storing information, sometimes accurately yet often not. In juxtaposition the heart recalls feelings, emotions and experiences of what used to exist, in the realm of what’s reminiscently gone. 

Kirk Sutherland-25-02-2023