LOGO : Site title

F or those of us staying in town over the holidays, there may be a point when shopping and other forms of revelry begin to pall or are just too overwhelming on the pocketbook and other appendages. And besides, I’d prefer not to lose sight of Oliver in the sea of shopping bags or Christmas ornaments that have begun to take his fancy. So, the prospect of museum and art galleries may beckon to those with a sense of duty to impart culture to their children and those who have begun to squeeze their eyes shut as they hand over cash, credit and debit cards.

It’s hard to know what is the appropriate age to start bringing one’s children to such institutions. The arts booster would undoubtedly say as soon after birth as possible, but I can easily remember during my pre-parent days when I would silently curse the parents who had dragged their children, perhaps even kicking and screaming, to “appreciate” works of art that I bet they didn’t give more than a cursory glance. You’re bothering me, I wanted to yell at them. Take your stroller and your unruly children and leave right now, and don’t come back until they’re old enough to behave.

Well, time and circumstances change one’s perspective. But since Oliver’s birth, I hadn’t wanted to take him to a museum or anything similar, not because the shoe is potentially on the other foot, but because I genuinely didn’t feel compelled to see anything offered in Toronto. My friend and fellow mother Miriam recommended the Massive Change show when Oliver was less than a year old (I think at the Art Gallery of Ontario, but I will claim a foggy mother’s brain for that time period), but I think I was still undergoing my own massive change that blighted any serious interest. When we visited New York Oliver was 17 months, and we went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and MoMA, and my memories of both are dominated by our negotiated handoffs and the limitations of facilities rather than the art I aimed to see. I can’t think of a time that I’ve been to New York and not gone to at least one of these museums, but on that trip it was a decision perhaps better rethought. (In case you ever need to know, the closest store to MoMA where you can secure a change of clothing for your child is the Disney store about two blocks away on Fifth Avenue and not, as you might expect, the museum’s gift store where they might think of stocking simple basics like T-shirts and sweatpants. If you have to make the trek, be prepared to be flexible on sizes.)

When I heard about the Ansel Adams/Alfred Eisenstaedt photography exhibit at the AGO, I surprised myself with wanting to see the show and, even more, wanting to take Oliver. Now is the time to see if he is the right age, I realized.

We chose to go on the Saturday before Christmas, hoping that the last-minute frenzy would keep the AGO empty and the photographs themselves easily accessible. The AGO is currently undergoing renovation and because it’s a Frank Gehry project, it’s basically a rebuild. Right now, that means not only is the traditional entrance on Dundas closed, so is the entire façade and access in that area right to the street. That means if you park on Beverley as we did, west of the AGO (there may be reasonable street parking as long as you stay fairly north of Queen St.), you can’t walk on the south side of Dundas towards the temporary entrance on McCaul, on the east side. As we found out later, the smarter route would have been through Grange Park south of the AGO. Not only is it a more pleasant foray (and your children may be inclined to pause there before agreeing to continue to the AGO itself), it’s about the same distance as having to walk on the north side of Dundas.

If you’re familiar with the entrance used by Cinematheque Ontario, you will easily find the AGO’s temporary entrance, located on McCaul St., just north of the Ontario College of Art and Design and across the street from Village by the Grange. The doors are automated, followed by a ramp that leads to the admissions desk. Arriving well before noon, we were pleased to find there was no line-up, the admissions staff friendly and informative, and steps away was the elevator which we took upstairs to the exhibit. My guess is that under different circumstances, this elevator is used to transport large art works as it is the size of probably two, maybe even three, office cubicles. It would be fun to find out how many strollers could fit in that elevator. If Gehry and his team haven’t already made plans for this entrance and the elevator, I hope they keep both exactly as they are and promote their accessibility.

The elevator at the AGO makes hospital elevators look tiny. Sadly, the same cannot be said at the ROM.

As with many shows at the AGO, the photographs were more a selective rather than a comprehensive representation of both photographers. In the past, I would have been irritated by the feeling that we were barely scratching the surface, but now, the few dozen displayed seemed just enough for our collective attention spans. Larry and I took turns, one holding Oliver or guiding him from one room to the next, the other wheeling our stroller which served conveniently as a cart for our coats and just-in-case diaper bag. Several of Ansel Adams’ iconic images were already familiar to us through the memorable medium of posters ubiquitous through university residence rooms, and we were pleased to introduce the originals to Oliver with imagery that has already captured his interest, like the luminescent moon, monolithic mountains and cascading waterfalls. But the two-year-old mind can be satisfied with viewing objects he is not allowed to touch for only so long. After regularly restraining his hands from making contact with the prints, we were presented with his emphatic declaration, “I want to walk around,” and one of us would dutifully trail him or try to interest him in other prints.

But even with his spurts of interest, we felt we could declare this venture a success. The admissions desk had told us that there was a room on the first level called the Dragon Wagon for children, and after we had a dose of Adams, Larry volunteered to take Oliver to the Dragon Wagon. The monumentality of many of Adams’ images is contrasted with the more contemplative ones offered by Eisenstaedt, and perhaps that’s why Oliver moved quickly through this area. Although Eisenstaedt is best known for his photograph of the sailor kissing a nurse on VJ Day in Times Square, it is not part of the exhibit, and I did not notice its absence. As a photojournalist, his work reflects the captured fleeting moment, and much of the exhibit presented images of Europe and north Africa on the eve of the second world war. While much of his work appeared in the pages of Life magazine and were therefore themselves treated as disposable, the prints in the exhibit are inescapably resonant for capturing a time so fixed in the past that it feels nearly fictional. The images of apparent affluent domestic tranquility in 1930s Germany may then have seemed benign, but now they seem to offer evidence of the kind of bubble these genteel folk existed in, auditioning for dance school or, the one that seemed the most curious, of coachmen learning to handle the whip that would control their horses. I wondered what happened to them during and after the war. The serious expression on their faces suggested concentration on their craft and a commitment to their livelihoods, but after 1945, any survivor in that photograph would have to totally rethink his life and what he could do.

Although Oliver sometimes surprises us with what he can recall from months – a quarter of his life! – ago, I know I can’t expect him to look upon Eisenstaedt’s work with the kind of interest I felt. But since he is the frequent subject of innumerable photographs, we know that we can introduce him to other and more photographic images soon enough. Actually the one regret I felt through the exhibit was that I hadn’t taken him to photographic shows earlier, when he was securely strapped in his Baby Bjorn. It occurred to me that the prints had been mounted at a height that most infants could view from such a position. I suddenly envied those parents and children who could view these photographs simultaneously without the prospect of a wriggling or unwilling child.

When I joined Larry and Oliver in the Dragon Wagon, I was both impressed and a bit disappointed. The large room, next to the gift shop, does allow much space for any number of energetic children, and this is definitely the place to take them when their patience for the rest of the gallery has worn thin and the parental nerves frayed. There are a handful of toys, but there’s a sense that they are kind of thrown together. To some extent, that will appropriately mesh with the way most children treat toys, but I couldn’t help but feel that somebody at the AGO was given a certain budget and told to get “stuff” from Ikea and construct a playroom. It’s good as far as that goes, but I wondered what it would look and feel like if they had made it more of a project to stimulate the children who would use it and also reflect the gallery overall.

One feature of the AGO that has disappeared, presumably as a result of the renovation, is the cafeteria. When we thought about getting lunch or at least a snack, the suggestion given to us was Village by the Grange. We didn’t even consider it, so I can’t even tell you if there’s anything worth recommending. Past experience with the options at the Village by the Grange resemble most food shopping mall food courts, and on our way out, we did see a large McDonald’s logo over the entrance, so my assumption is that nothing beyond the names have changed.

Also on our way out, we noticed the lengthy line-up at the admissions desk. It was early afternoon, and I realized that our decision to escape the shopping madness was shared by numerous others. We were lucky that we had acted upon it a bit earlier than others. For many parents, such thinking is already second nature when mid-afternoon naps become a non-negotiable daily event, but I came to see how significantly timing can affect one’s experience with a museum or art gallery when we chose to go to the ROM in the early afternoon of New Year’s Eve.

L ike the AGO, the ROM is also under construction, and their high-profile architect is Daniel Libeskind. Since most of the construction seems to be taking place on the Bloor St. side of the museum, the façade is still recognizable although the entrance has been moved to the south side of the building and down one level. There is a ramp to the left of the stairs, but we didn’t see it until we were leaving. Going from the entrance to the admissions desk to the coat check to the elevator was markedly different than our experience at the AGO, not just because the different building was a different layout, but this area of the ROM (previously the entrance used for school trips) felt so intensely institutional, from the concrete walls to the wooden warmth of the staff. Maybe it was the time of day and the crush of crowds, but the vibe of obligation and clockwatching contrasted with the friendliness of the AGO. As well, everyone, including those who appeared entirely able bodied and could use some exercise, decided to take the elevator which happens to be a standard size. The Italian Arts & Design show, where we were headed, is on the third floor, and after negotiating space for Oliver in his umbrella stroller and trying to get out before other people pushed their way in, we dismissed the elevator as we moved through the museum.

The Italian Arts & Design show might have been more interesting to see if we had come earlier in the day. Much of the pieces were familiar objects created with an exuberant flair synonymous with Italian design, but we skipped a close view of much of it because it was too tedious to wait behind clusters of people to get a clear view. The furniture, some of which looked fairly worn, looked like it may have come straight from somebody’s living room or basement, and a few times I wondered whether Oliver was going to straddle the low barrier and flop onto the inflatable armchair or to take a closer look at the Fiat 500.

So we left the show fairly quickly and walked through other parts of the museum. There were many families there, and I felt as though we were all on a kind of conveyor belt of obligatory viewing. I don’t recall pausing at anything and nothing seemed particularly memorable, but maybe we had also joined the ranks of the dutiful. Eventually we got to the life-sized reptiles behind glass, and I thought, well, at least we have something that we know will hold Oliver’s interest for a bit of time. This led to the children’s area, named the CIBC Discovery Room. Like the AGO’s Dragon Wagon, it functions as a kind of time-out area and is adequately furnished with a handful of toy stations that will likely relieve children (and perhaps even their parents) of the less inspired areas of the museum. Oliver became absorbed with the castle structure, perhaps because it seemed to threaten collapse with every touch, and he moved around it righting the walls, closing the drawbridge and moving the squat figures around the shaky fortress. We probably spent more time here than in any other part of the museum, and it proved to be a useful area for us to zone out a bit.

We later came across a tiny café-like area located in the old entrance. We chose the comfy looking chairs and shared a sandwich and salad plate. If this doesn’t revert back to the entrance after the renovations are complete, I think they should keep it as a café. On one side is a ramp that leads to the old entrance itself (currently sealed from access), and while we took turns tucking in, Oliver enjoyed walking up and down the ramp. When I walked with him, he became absorbed by an Aphrodite torso displayed in a niche along the ramp. He observed that “the lady” had no head, arms or nipples but did have a belly button. I decided there wasn’t much more to explain than the lady was from a long time ago and she used to have a head and appendages (couldn’t decide about the nipples, though). I made a mental note to revisit this statue or others like it when he’s a bit older and maybe introduce him to other relics from antiquity. Hopefully by the time he sees the Venus de Milo it will all make sense. I thought after such astute observations on his part that Oliver deserved a treat, and I asked our waiter for the cookie plate and was told that they were no longer serving, even though he had told us 20 minutes earlier that we had lots of time. Yes, the museum was due to close in about an hour, and the sense of impatience to leave was clearly written on the faces of all the staff. Okay, then. No point in wearing out our welcome, right? Maybe we’ll come back when the dinosaurs return.

Note: We were lucky enough to avoid diaper changes at both the AGO and the ROM. I did observe flip-down diaper tables in washrooms at both.

Nearest subway stops to the AGO:

St. Patrick (University Ave. & Dundas St. W.) - not stroller friendly: there are escalators to street level on the west side, which is closer to the AGO, but the nearest station with an elevator is at Queen's Park, about three blocks north.

Queen's Park (University Ave. & College St.) - elevator to fare level, another elevator to street level on east side of the station

Parking

- street parking on McCaul St., Beverley St., and the north side of Dundas

- some parking at the Ontario College of Art & Design may be available

- underground parking at the Village by the Grange

Nearest subway stops to the ROM:

Museum (south of Avenue Rd. & Bloor St. W.) - not stroller friendly: there is one escalator between the platform and fare level and only stairs to street level. Although this the west side subway entrance is practically at the ROM's doorstep, anyone with mobility issues may find the St. George or Bay stations more accommodating.

St. George (north of Bloor St. W. between Bedford and St. George) - the Bedford entrance is stroller friendly: one elevator connects the street and fare level, another to the platform

Bay (north of Bloor St. W., west side of Bay St.) - escalators from platform to fare level to street, but they may not be moving in the direction you want; the fare level is also somewhat accessible through the Cumberland Terrace concourse level east of the station.

Parking

- street parking on Charles St. and Hoskin Ave.

- parking lot at Hart House (enter from Hoskin Ave.)

- indoor parking between Cumberland St. and Yorkville Ave.