G2 G T H E G LO B E A N D M A I L • F R I DAY , O C T O B E R 1 1 , 2 0 1 3• GLOBE REAL ESTATE

While there are many aspectsto agriculture, the root of it

(if you’ll pardon the pun) is thecontrol over nature to benefithumankind. Indeed, throughoutmost of human history, the ma-jority of the population workedto tame the land.

When farm machinery camealong – and there was no biggermanufacturer than Massey-Harris– it allowed for the creation of anew class free from manuallabour: the middle-class.

And because this middle-classtoiled in grey, downtown offices,they needed small patches ofgreen in which to sit and con-template this newfound freedomover brown-bag lunches. Parks,in their own way, are also aboutthe control of nature to benefithumankind.

You see where this is going.No? Well, while this may be a

lousy connect-the-dots historylesson, there’s no denying theconnection between the formerMassey-Harris complex that oncestretched along King Street Westbetween Strachan Avenue andSudbury Street, and the park thatfilled one small part of that sitein 2006.

One of the most thoughtful,pause-worthy and inviting ofToronto’s public spaces, MasseyHarris Park is the creation ofarchitects James Brown and KimStorey, the husband-and-wifeteam responsible for that vibrantand pulsating gathering spacethat’s intentionally un-park-like,Dundas Square, “the picnic blan-ket,” says Mr. Brown, that Toron-tonians have embraced andcreated the ongoing picnic for.

And while there is plenty ofgrass and shade to picnic orbrown-bag it at Massey-Harris, it,too, has a few un-park-like quali-ties. For instance, most parkpathway systems are shaped“like a Union Jack,” offers Ms.Storey, in that they direct thewalker across the space in as

straight a line as possible: “Assoon as you get in the park, itsays ‘now get the hell out,’ ” shejokes.

“… There’s no seduction,there’s no magic, there’s no poet-ry,” Mr. Brown adds. At MasseyHarris, however, the paths “gofor a walk themselves.” It’s true:They wiggle, meander and criss-cross, and a few even come to adead end. In a couple of places,two bend dangerously close toone another, which forces inter-action between strangers. Inessence, they offer choice and, bydoing so, force the urban walkerto slow down.

“So you could loiter here,” Ms.Storey says.

Also, there are short stairwaysto nowhere. Well, they look like

stairs but really, they are yet an-other way to offer pause to theuser. Climb them or, better yet,have a seat: “When you sit there,you’re in the site, not just pass-ing through it,” Mr. Brown says.The stairs are possible because ofsubtle elevation changes – low-to-high and high-to-low – thatBrown + Storey Architects (withDaedalus Design) have insertedthroughout the park using a“striation” pattern. These stria-tions, combined with the mean-dering paths, are meant tosymbolize furrows in a farmer’sfield. Further, the striations runeast-to-west to emphasize thelength of the park, since condobuildings loom on both sides.The condo of note, of course, isthe former Massey-Harris officebuilding, an 1885 red brick Geor-gian beauty by E.J. Lennox. Vari-ous species of trees have alsobeen planted in an east-westdirection.

A wooden boardwalk framesthe east and west edges of thepark. This, says the duo, makes itclear that the grassy bits are nota “side yard” for the condos. In afew other places, wooden planksare used to create an almostdock-like feel; one is positionedover the park’s splash pad, whichis triggered by a button on astanchion (so if there aren’t anykiddies around, an adult canenjoy it as a water-feature).

To contrast with the east-westemphasis, a large metal trellisstretches from north to south inthe approximate location ofCrawford Street, which was still a

public road when the architectsreceived the desolate site fromthe city. This large rectangulararea adds “vertical density” tothe park while also offering pri-vacy from prying balcony eyesabove. The underside of the trel-lis features a stainless steel sculp-ture by James McLeod, EvolutionUnrolling, which represents rope,chain and DNA. “That’s the im-pression that I wanted to give,”he says on the City of Torontowebsite, “that I was tying all thistogether and reflecting on…times and cultures that hadlived in the area.”

The trellis also acts in the sameway a doorknob does, Mr. Brownsays, in that it tells the user howit should be used. Known as“affordance,” it clearly states herethat it is an outdoor room thatcan host farmer’s markets, per-formances or art shows. “Youhave to construct that; it justdoesn’t happen by itself.”

Massey Harris Park is a smallpublic space that’s big on variety.Here, a cluster of trees offers ashady nook, while over therestairways offer a cozy perch; un-der the trellis, the eye can chooseto look up at a bright red street-car reflection, or the dancingshadows Evolution Unrollingcreates on the ground below.Wiggly pathways take walkersfrom rushed to hushed in only afew steps.

“That’s a lot for the city to letus do,” Mr. Brown says.

Hard to believe this is B+SA’sfirst park in Toronto … let’s hopeit’s not their last.

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In hectic condo land, a park designed to slow you down

DAVE LEBLANCTHE ARCHITOURISTdaveleblanc@globeandmail.com

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Massey Harris Park, on King Street West near Strachan Avenue, is a smallpublic space that’s big on variety.

I like the shine, lift and futurismof numerous glazed residential

towers that have dotted Toron-to’s downtown cityscape inrecent years.

That’s not saying all of thesebuildings measure up uniformlyto high artistic standards. But it issaying that even the less imagi-native ones often show what abeautiful, luxe and urbane ma-terial contemporary glass hasbecome.

Nor, as I found out a couple ofweeks ago, have developers runout of ways to apply glass solu-tions to the outfitting of high-risebuildings.

Take, for example, what is hap-pening at Sixty Colborne, a glassynew inner-city condominiumproject by Peter Freed just east ofYonge Street. Four ample unitsstand at the corners of the com-plex, each with an area betweenabout 1,000 square feet and 2,000square feet. (Prices range fromjust under $705,000 to over $1.4-million.) The problem: At thoseprices, prospective home-ownerswould probably want a balcony,and none of the suites has one.

To remedy this lack, Mr. Freedis offering (for about $50,000 ontop of the unit price) to modifythe glass walls of the suite sothey can be slid aside. The result,when the wall is fully open, willbe a gap 16 feet wide and extend-ing from floor to ceiling, whichshould transform a corner of theapartment into a balcony-likespace.

This modest move – which I’venot seen in high-rises elsewhere– will attractively blur the nor-mally firm line between outsideand inside, city and home. WithMr. Freed’s innovation in place,house-owners can have the plea-sure of a terrace (when they wantone) without paying for a balco-ny they only use a few months ofthe year.

But despite the facts about itscelebrity and versatility – manu-facturers are churning out newproducts all the time, consumerdemand for glazed apartments ishigh, developers and architectscontinue to come up with inter-esting things to do with it – glasshas been attacked far and wide inrecent years.

To cite just one local instance:CBC Toronto’s popular MetroMorning website advises us that“building scientists have knownfor a long time that glass-walledstructures are less energy effi-cient than the stone and concretebuildings that were put up fortyor fifty years ago … [I]ndustryinsiders warn that as energy costsclimb, glass towers may become

the ‘pariah’ buildings of thefuture.”

The same series of witheringlycritical articles and broadcastsquotes high-profile researcherswho have weighed in against thecladding of tall towers with glass.One of them is Ted Kesik, anengineer and professor of build-ing science at the University ofToronto, who has separately pub-lished his findings and remarkson the Web. (His article can be

easily located by Googling the au-thor’s name.)

The current real-estate boom,Mr. Kesik writes, has created ageneration of towers wrapped inglass systems that will probablyfail after only “15 to 20 years,”and that are, from the outset,“thermally inefficient comparedto curtain walls or punched win-dows.”

“There is no villain in thisstory,” he says, but virtually

everyone with any connection tothe world of real estate – devel-opers, manufacturers, architects,agents, consumers – has “collec-tively contributed to the presentsituation.” Which, by Mr. Kesik’saccounting, is or soon will be abad situation indeed.

“Preposterous” was the wordPeter Clewes used, when I askedhim last week to characterize theapocalyptic scenarios sometimesforecast by the anti-glass faction.

(Mr. Clewes is the architect ofSixty Colborne and nearly 20 oth-er glass-clad towers in downtownToronto.)

“Conventional double-glazedunits,” he said, “whether they arein punched windows in a fancyRosedale house, or in a cheap,cheap condominium in Scarbo-rough, have a life expectancy ofbetween 35 and 40 years. After 40years, the seal around the perim-eter starts to break down, andyou can get some moisture.”

Like a roof or floor, “glass hasto be ultimately replaced. Thathas to be built into anyone’smaintenance budget,” he said.

Mr. Clewes attributes the dur-ability of contemporary glazingsystems to industry advancesover the past few decades. “Webuilt throwaway buildings in thefifties and sixties, with single-glazed sliding windows thatleaked like a sieve. We know howto keep water out now. We havesolved the big technical prob-lems. What we are into now is re-finement. How far do we want totake energy performance, forinstance?”

The answer to that questionwill be determined by the toler-ance and expectations of themarketplace. Mr. Clewes advoca-tes high energy taxing as a prov-en way to encourage personalconservation and good publicpolicies – and a much more effec-tive way than preaching at peo-ple to be “greener.”

“Once we stop the moral rheto-ric, and start taxing energy,” hesaid, “then we will quickly have amore sustainable city”

While some warn against glass-walled structures, technological advances and imagination have led to some amazing designs

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In defence of glass towers

JOHN BENTLEY MAYSTHE PERFECT HOUSEjmays@globeandmail.com

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Architect Peter Clewes, who designed Sixty Colborne and nearly 20 other glass-clad towers in Toronto, says new glass should last 35-40 years.

Four units at Sixty Colborne that don’t have balconies will be offered the option of having sliding glass walls.