A Case of Convention Centre Ennui

Like a lot of people, I suppose, I have a case of convention centre exhaustion. Perhaps by the time you read this, we’ll know whether the province plans to support the controversial downtown development or not. But I’d still like to make one point.

It’s not about potential tax revenues, or large-scale economic impact, or view planes, or even whether potential conventioneers “need” a new venue with bigger rooms or higher ceilings or whatever.

I just want to take issue with one element of the pro-downtown-convention-centre argument: the suggestion that a convention centre would somehow “revitalize” downtown Halifax, in the cultural sense.

Here’s just one example of that argument. In a recent letter to Halifax Magazine, Nova Scotia Business Inc. CEO, Stephen Lund, extolled what he saw as the benefits of the potential office space attached to the project.

“We’d like to see this tower filled with young finance and accounting grads,” he wrote. “Imagine, for a moment, 2,000 to 2,500 more young people working in downtown Halifax, making wages two to three times the average in our province. ...Think of the money they will spend on new cars, houses and restaurants.”

Oh, I’m imagining it. I don’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings or anything, but a downtown crawling with thousands of young accountants is simply not my idea of a cultural hotbed.

Young financiers aside, this convention centre, if it comes to pass, won’t do anything directly to make downtown Halifax more interesting, more vibrant, or more attractive for Haligonians. Sure, there will be more tourists and office workers around with cash to spend, but downtown has to be about more than bars, offices, hotels and kitschy chain restaurants.

We really need to see more effort put into nurturing the kind of mixed-use applications that might make Haligonians actually want to live and play downtown. Why are there so few families living in the downtown core? Could it be because there’s a lack of affordable housing, few local markets, and very little green space?

We need more support for local businesses that will make our city’s streets more interesting for the citizens of Halifax, not for tourists and visitors. I want my downtown to be full of independently-owned shops selling interesting and original things you can’t buy in tourist outlets or big-box business parks.

I want niche restaurants, a place to get a good burrito, a greasy shawarma or a tasty roti, and spaces where I can sit and people-watch while I enjoy it. I want outdoor performance spaces, buskers, public art and engaging, street-scale, people-friendly architecture.

The fact that so much of the talk about the proposed convention centre is about the potential impact on the economy – and not the culture – of Halifax is disheartening.

If I could spend a Saturday walking around and enjoying my own city, I’d be thrilled. If we opt to leave the downtown in the hands of the accountants and the conventioneers, I suspect we really will get what we pay for.

Halifax's Low Rise vs. High Rise Debate

At the moment, I’m parked at the top of Citadel Hill, the only car in sight - which, in itself, is making me feel a little weird and creepy - even though I’m totally just looking at the view. But the pedestrians that occasionally pass by are giving me odd looks and I have this strange urge to roll down the window and holler “I’m sight-seeing!” Not that I need to explain myself. Why should I explain myself? It’s a free country.

Anyway, so I’m sitting here, taking in the view in all its glory. And I’m thinking, “Why would anyone fight to maintain this? This is the ugliest skyline I have ever seen.”

I mean, look at it. If low buildings are what some people are interested in preserving, can we talk about the Metro Centre? A full city block of gravel-roofed grey, and really, it’s the focal point of the view from the Citadel’s little look-off.

When experts talk about “view planes,” what is it that they want people (presumably tourists, mostly) to be able to see from Citadel Hill? Is it the harbour? Why? There are a million better places to get a view of the harbour besides Citadel Hill. Is it the downtown waterfront? That’s already blocked off anyway. Is it our impressive city skyline? Well, let’s talk about that skyline.

I know Halifax has an identity crisis. What are we – big or small? What do we want to be – hip or comfy? Fast or slow? Tomorrow or yesterday?

But a city isn’t a city without architecture. Big, bold buildings are beautiful. A well-designed downtown high-rise can be way more aesthetically pleasing to look at than, say, the oil refinery in Dartmouth. And the more well-designed tall buildings there are downtown, the better, in my opinion.

What’s the most impressive thing you can see from Citadel Hill? It’s probably the Macdonald bridge – because of its scale; because it’s a remarkable work of design and engineering. And that white office building with the lush-looking terraces is nice, too. And that’s about it.

You know that feeling you get when you’re driving into a big city, and it’s night, and suddenly you can see the downtown and it’s all tall buildings and it’s all lit up? (I know, I know, all those lit-up office towers are killing the planet.) Well, I wish I could get a little more of that feeling when I’m coming over the bridge from Dartmouth. Is that wrong?

Leaving out the important issues of economics and population density and even heritage, if all we are concerned about is how the city “feels”… it feels to me like a city that’s stuck in the 70’s. Sort of like the Farrah Fawcett of cities. Like Peter Frampton had designed it all and then just left. Like we’re waiting for the Captain and Tennille to come and modernize the place a bit.

I’m all for moving Halifax forward. So come on, Halifax. Maybe I’ll give Pat Benatar a call and see if she can’t at least help us bring this city into the 1980’s.

Beige Vinyl Siding: Crime Against Humanity?

Neighbors, consider this a call to arms. A call to reject uniformity, conformity, and mediocrity. Brothers and sisters, resist the urge of the lowest common denominator.

Are we talking about Stephen Harper’s government? No. Movies that star Adam Sandler? No.

This scourge is much more insidious. And it’s spreading around us as we speak.

It’s a trend I refer to as the “homogenization of the ‘hood.”

My part of Halifax is made up largely of quaint little pre-fab houses - mostly bungalows - that were built around the time of WWII. Folks who have lived around here longer than I have say the houses were built for the workers contributing to the war effort.

There’s nothing particularly significant about these homes, but each is unique in its own small way. They have a kind of “retro” aesthetic and they’re still relatively cheap compared to a lot of homes, so when they go up for sale, they tend to get snapped up pretty quickly.

But with the sale of every cottage-y little home, I grow more and more disheartened. Because inevitably, here is what’s going to happen:

First, the new owners will tear off the old asbestos shingles (…I know!). Then they’ll gut the place and add a storey or two. (…Okay, that makes sense.) But then – and this happens on a far too regular basis – they’ll wrap the whole darn thing in the ugliest substance known to humankind: beige vinyl siding.

These revamped studies in brown often have nothing that makes them unique. No welcoming porch. No creative focal points. Teeny little windows. In short, they are watertight boxes with no character whatsoever. Sure, these weren’t gorgeous Victorian homes to start with, but does everybody have to go with the most insipid, utilitarian exterior possible?

The more of these unimaginative homes that pop up around me, the more depressed I get. Who wants to live in a neighborhood full of beige – sorry, “Sandalwood” - blandness?

I guess I shouldn’t be so judgmental. Maybe some people choose beige vinyl because it’s, like, their favourite.

But it does seem kind of ironic that just as this city is becoming more conscious of design issues and aesthetics – particularly in the downtown core - those of us in the residential neighborhoods are left to watch helplessly as our whimsical little homes are slowly becoming… well, boring.