London Buildings: Art Deco & Art Moderne

London, Ontario isn't blessed with a lot of either Art Deco or Art Moderne. Either a lack of private funds or architectural conservatism prevented Londoners from going for these styles in their heyday. Now their rarity makes what we do have more significant. But, thanks to redevelopment and neglect, London will have even fewer of these buildings in the future. 

Art Deco takes its name from the Exposition des arts decoratifs held in Paris in 1925. The name was eventually applied to furniture, jewelry and a host of other objects that found an immediate audience among the wealthy who could afford them. Oddly, although most people at the time couldn't pay for high fashion, interior designers or personal architects, Art Deco became the style most identified with the Jazz Age.

In architecture, Art Deco consists of plain boxes with towers and projections above the roofline. These buildings are very plain. Decoration consists of geometric mouldings and other details in terra cotta or stone relief. 

Dominion Public Building on a postcard.*

London's best example is usually considered to be the Dominion Public Building on Richmond Street, with its multiple corners, angular shape, and mouldings. Officially opening on September 26, 1936, it was, along with the Huron & Erie Building, one of the tallest structures in London at the time.  Though most of it is only six storeys, its most recognizable feature is the tower on its east end. Built of smooth Queenston limestone, it's basically an early skyscraper with a long extension. 

Although there was a lack of private funds, the 1930s saw much government funding. The reason was the Public Works Construction Act of 1934, an attempt to invigorate Canada's failing economy through public works projects. The City of London received $1.5 million to construct this building, which housed the post office among other federal offices. It was designed by Chief Public Works Architect Thomas W. Fuller, with assistance from London architects John MacLeod Watt, Victor J. Blackwell, and Roy O. Moore. It was built by workers in need of employment. 

Another well-known edifice of the time period is the Elsie Perrin Williams Memorial Library on Queens Avenue.  Most of us call it the "old Central Library."

The building was constructed in 1939-40 using funds left to the city by wealthy Londoner Elsie Perrin Williams. Engraved along the top of the front facade, you'll see the mouthful "London Public Library Elsie Perrin Williams Memorial Art Gallery and Museum." It was an unusual library for its time, incorporating an auditorium, art gallery, separate children's room, and outdoor reading garden, as well as aisles and aisles of books. In other words, it offered a variety of educational opportunities for London's citizens. It was designed by London architects Thornton McBride, and L. Gordon Bridgman, with advice from Chief Librarian Richard Crouch, for whom an east end library branch is named. 

The new library built of Queenston limestone showed classical Greek influence with a projecting main entrance, Greek figures, and a mask of Socrates over the double doors. Note the large transom which had the affect of making the doorway look twice as tall. 

A lot of us have happy memories of this building going back decades. Here many of us borrowed our books, admired art, researched school projects, and looked up our family histories. So it's annoying to see it empty and deteriorating, despite having been designated by the city in 2001 for its historical and architectural value. Unfortunately, the current owner of this edifice, Farhi Landholdings, specializes in empty, deteriorating buildings. Elsie must be turning over in her grave.  

Another major Art Deco building in the city's core is the Huron and Erie building, constructed on the northeast corner of Dundas and Clarence. Designed by Victor J. Blackwell, the nine-storey structure was begun in September 1930. Like the Dominion Public Building, the project provided employment for many workmen in the Great Depression. At the time of completion in June 1931 it dominated London's skyline and remained the city's tallest building until the 1960s. Floodlit at night, it was topped by a revolving searchlight visible for 50 miles (80.5 km). 

This building is still home to a TD-Canada Trust branch. Those of us who do our banking here are treated to the sight of Italian marble walls and splendid antique elevator doors. Everything looks strong and sturdy, just as a bank should. 

Above the tall street-level windows there's a string of carved panels showing Canadians working in a variety of professions from coast to coast. Unfortunately, they aren't easy to see and many will miss them as they walk by:

Yet another downtown Deco is the 1938 Bell Telephone building on the southwest corner of Dufferin and Clarence. More Queenston limestone here. Originally only two storeys, the building housed offices and dial equipment, but many Londoners also ran in to pay their phone bills. 

London doesn't have many Art Deco homes. But here's an example, perched on a Victoria Street hill:

Then there's Art Moderne. While it has a different name, it's really a sub-style of Deco that emerged in the USA in the '30s. It emphasized horizontality with flat roofs, bands of windows, rounded corners, and a lack of symmetry. Why "Moderne?" Likely because its streamlined look showed a disdain for any of history's architectural styles. It was very twentieth century. 

In all likelihood our best example is 16 Wellington Road, soon to be demolished to make way for Bus Rapid Transit construction.** Built in spring 1946 as a printing plant, it was known as Art Novelty Co. Owner Robert Dobbyn designed and built it himself. Note its curved entrance way and the translucent glass blocks that were another hallmark of the Moderne style. Its industrial look was quite innovative for London, Ontario in the '40s:

Interestingly, the above building may live on - virtually - using 3D technology. London-based firm SkyDeploy has been hired by the city to use drone technology to digitally document some of the buildings to be demolished. While the project looks interesting, a) we don't know if the public will have access to these models, and b) it would be better to preserve the buildings. 

Another Moderne building is at Wellington and Bathurst. Built in 1949, it has the horizontal look, curved corner, and bands of windows associated with the style. 

Then there's the Berkley Apartments, built at 350 Dufferin ca. 1950. The decorative brickwork may be Art Deco but the rounded corners and uninterrupted flat roof are associated with Art Moderne:

*Postcards from the author's collection.

** Demolished as of June 27, 2024.

On "Infill"

The new home at 65 Victoria Street is gonna be a biggie:

According to this article, the finished building will have six bedrooms, seven baths, parking for six vehicles, and a walk-out basement. Neighbours say it will be 15 ft higher than the homes on either side. Its balcony will tower over the neighbouring balconies, lowering their privacy. 

London's Committee of Adjustment* apparently approved a request to increase the maximum floor area of a building on this lot from 4,000 to 7,400 sq ft., allowing this monster home to be built. The neighbours - NIMBYs or concerned residents, depending how you view them - complained about the increased size at the committee hearing, but were disregarded. Makes you wonder why there are rules in place at all, if an exception can be made for any landowner who asks for one. 

There are lots of questions here I can't answer. Is this really intended to be a single family home? Six bedrooms, each with their own bath, suggests it may be a student residence or Airbnb. Will it be crowded and noisy? I suppose the neighbours will find out. Eventually. 

Old North west of Richmond is already a hodgepodge of buildings from different time periods. Some look early twentieth century but most are mid-century ranch homes or late twentieth-century two-storeys. From an aesthetic point of view, I'm less concerned about a modern behemoth at 65 Victoria than I am in a neighbourhood more uniformly historic. That opinion, of course, shows my personal bias but I find the following contrasts more disturbing: 

  

A central tenet of architectural design used to be respect for context, for the suitability of a new building with its existing surroundings. In other words, a new building should "fit in," not "stand out." Even in the Victorian era, while some owners wanted their homes to catch the eye, practical considerations like building cost, material and height still gave most streets overall consistency of form and character. 

Some newer buildings of the twentieth century looked a little different but they were often isolated examples on a street of nineteenth-century buildings. They added variety and interest to the street while still providing a comfortable sense of continuity. I'm not sure of the date of the house at right in the photo below but it does fit into this row of older homes, not being too tall or too different: 

I'm also annoyed with the use of the term "infill." According to Wikipedia, "infill," in the urban planning sense, is "the rededication of land in an urban environment, usually open-space, to new construction" (the italics are mine). The City of London states here in 3.2.3.1 that "development is only considered infill when it occurs on vacant or underutilized sites within an established residential neighbourhood." 

So, infill means filling empty lots with new development appropriate for the neighbourhood, increasing density within the city limits, and reducing the suburban sprawl eating up our farmland. But the term is often used to mean the demolition of an existing building and its replacement with something huge, often single family, that doesn't solve the city's housing problems. Like at 65 Victoria, where there was an earlier home that was purchased by the current owners in 2015, rented out for a few years, and demolished to make room for the monster. 

In another example, also on Victoria Street, a small home like the one on the left was replaced with the oversize building on the right. The latter is completely out of scale with its surroundings: 

Below, another smaller home was torn down to be replaced by a large, overpowering structure:

So I agree that the character of a neighbourhood, particularly an older one, is valuable, that new construction should correspond to and complement buildings on adjacent properties. New buildings should add to the history of an older neighbourhood, not take it away. 

But the City of London wants development at all costs, regardless of what it looks like or where it is. Who cares if the neighbours can stomach it? Beware Londoners, you'll have to get used to the strangest objects popping up around you. Sorry, Old North.

*The Committee of Adjustment consists of five individuals appointed by City Council to deal with minor variances. This house is a big change for a "minor" variance, isn't it? Rumour has it the committee is pro development and doesn't take complaints by neighbours very seriously. 

A Walk Through West Woodfield

Back in 2021 I decided to go for a walk in west Woodfield. No particular reason why, other than that, if you like old buildings, Woodfield is one of the best places to be. I took pictures that day but forgot about them for a while and just recently found them. So here's a few pics of buildings in west Woodfield, one of London's most interesting neighbourhoods, historically and architecturally. 

The Woodfield area was named after the home of Anglican Bishop Benjamin Cronyn (1802-71), an attractive residence torn down in the 1960s. The neighbourhood was founded in mid-nineteenth century and had a wide social cross-section from the beginning. The result is a wide variety of house styles and sizes from mansion to cottage. 

504 Waterloo: Older London homes have a distinctive asset in the infilling of their gables with diversely patterned wood. This late Victorian, built about 1894, is one of those. Note the console-like extensions framing the gable and the stone arch over the window. 

496 Waterloo - One of the loveliest Queen Anne homes in the city - at least until what the Fire Department called a "substantial" blaze in its attic in 2023. Glad I took a photo before the fire. As you can see from these photos, the trim was once white. Although renovated, this 1893 house still has its nice arched windows on the south side and tower, a lovely corner verandah, and a cute balcony in the attic storey on the left. 

 

484 Waterloo: I'm also fond of the house below, now converted into offices. While the windows are replacements (there weren't panes of glass this size ca. 1875-80 when the home was built) at least we still have the beautiful verandah, the matching columns above and below, the mouldings above the windows, and the paired brackets under the wide overhang of the hipped roof. The second floor balcony has been enclosed as a sleeping porch. It has a door, so at one time one could step out onto a balcony, the balustrade of which has been removed. 

455 Waterloo: I do love a tower and this home is almost all tower. Bonus: a deep cornice with bas-relief ornamentation. Would have looked even better when it was first built in the Edwardian era, without the highrise in the background. 

469 and 471 Waterloo: Two buildings here. First, note 469 Waterloo on the left. Allan Komenda and Valerii Oleksiienko won a London Heritage Award in 2020 for the restoration of this Italianate home. Next door is the gorgeous early 20th-century home built for cigar manufacturer R. D. McDonald, now occupied by Global Warranty. Note the ornate roof line and south wall gable with a Palladian window variation. At front is a curved two-storey bay with curved glass windows and stone window headings in an interesting pattern. Neo-Classical design is seen in details like the pediment, columns with Corinthian-style capitals, and matching smaller columns supporting the second-floor porch. This Edwardian-era mansion, designed by London architect John Moore, makes the decent-sized Italianate from a couple of decades earlier look small.

477 Waterloo: OK, so foliage makes this Regency style cottage a little difficult to see. But you can make out the most interesting parts: the Doric-style columns, gently curved porch roof, and - best of all - a triple-arched London Doorway. This ca. 1878 home was designed by another London architect, William Robinson, for the crockery importer Nathaniel Reid. Later members of the Carling and Gibbons family lived here. 

483 Colborne: Another nice house here but the best part is the stone insert under the upper window on the north side. Do you see the foliage face looking at you? It appears to be a variation of the Green Man, a sort of forest god representing the birth-death-rebirth cycle of the natural year.

484 Colborne: Ignore the newer roof and updated balcony railing and focus on the unusual cornice on this Italianate. Nice verandah too. 

504 Colborne: The house built for Alexander McBride ca. 1872 isn't quite as unchanged as I'd like it to be. It has newer windows, for example. But it also has some interesting original features, like a  cornice extended at the corners, a broken pediment with a bull's eye window, a slightly projecting central bay, and brick quoins. The stone headings over the arched windows and door are a nice touch. And yes, that is another London Doorway. 

518 Dufferin: Just a lovely 1 1/2 storey residence built 1876. Nice bargeboard in the gable and stained glass transoms over the windows and door.  

22 Peter: One of the loveliest homes in Woodfield, still covered in clapboard and possessing an arched window in its gable. Note the blue plaque to the right of the door, meaning this beautiful property is designated by the City of London. Built ca. 1870, this looks like the typical Ontario farmhouse. But it wasn't built for a farmer; the first occupant was Oran Benson, a melodeon maker.  

23 Peter: I described 23 Peter years ago as a textbook example of Italianate. Still there. Dreamy.

518 Queens: Wow. This is different. But then it's at the corner of Queens Avenue, where many wealthy people built their mansions in the 1800s. The mansard-roofed Second Empire style was never popular in London and was always more popular in the US than Canada. But this 1874 residence, converted into a retirement home, was just the thing for oil millionaire James Duffield, who of course wanted to show off his good taste. Notice the variety of mouldings over the windows: curved stone on the first and second floors and elliptical or pedimental over the dormers. 

534 Queens: Another Second Empire, much changed from when it was a private residence. But note the fish scale pattern on the slate roof.

533 Queens: The Bullen house, ca. 1875, has updated windows but I've seen worse. What's interesting about this place is how tall it appears, the steeply-pitched roof adding to its vertical look. 

513 Queens: A lovely Queen Anne ca. 1887. Yellow brick with red brick trim. Deep cornice. Fancy gable. And, Holy Smoke, what a massive chimney. I guess that verandah was added later, since it cuts right through a window on the side. And that's a door at top left, so there must once have been a balcony. 

Dundas Street Centre United Church: Built 1896 in the Romanesque Revival style. 

410, 408 and 400 Queens: A nice Edwardian streetscape, designed by John Moore in the red brick that had become popular by early 20th century. At one time you would have been able to look between these buildings and catch a glimpse of the gorgeous Mocha Temple behind them. Unfortunately, someone had the idea of adding a Tudoresque bridge thingy between the buildings, blocking the view. Oh well, you can walk around the corner to see the M.T. if you want to. 

496 Colborne: Nice 1 1/2 storey Victorian. Note the attractive arched windows and all those paired brackets under the wide overhang. 

South side of the same building. More brackets, including baby versions on the projecting bay window. 

380 Queens: An enormous Edwardian mansion, complete with Palladian window up in the gable. 

360 Queens: Wow. Romanesque Revival here with those heavy arches. Gorgeous tower. More Palladian windows up in the gables. 

What's also nice to see is the plaque out front, identifying the former owner, Charles W. Leonard, as well as the current tenants:

St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church: Designed by architect William Robinson and built in 1869 in the Gothic tradition. An inspirational spire, imposing entrance, high stone foundation with arched window openings, and interesting brick work under the eaves make this one of London's most attractive churches.

And there's its manse right next door, built only a few years later. Looks neoclassical with that bas relief in the pediment. Nice mouldings over the windows, including that rounded one in the centre.  

Whew, what a long walk.

How NOT to Renovate an Old Building

I used to think it was nice to see people fixing up older buildings. Nowadays I'm not so sure. Increasingly I see inappropriate alterations to heritage structures.

In my own neighbourhood, for example, I see large rear extensions that make the original homes look like they were tacked on at the front. Ideally the height and bulk of new additions should be smaller than the existing building. But for some people, Bigger Is Better, making me wonder why they didn't just buy a larger home to begin with.

Other folks who need space build upwards, adding to the height of an existing building. But even the smallest change to a roofline can alter the overall character tremendously. This is not really the best combination of old and new:

Bridges and connections between buildings should join at existing openings, preferably doorways or windows. Not like this: 

Some people aren't team players. If you owned the end unit, would you be a rugged individualist and paint your shutters black instead of blue? Terrace housing looks more attractive when all units look the same. If you don't agree, buy a detached home.

I'm conflicted about solar panels. While they're a great idea, it's taking me a while to get used to them on older homes:

Metal roofs are wonderful. Just ask any metal roof salesman. He'll tell you it's "the last roof you'll ever need." It won't catch fire, it will lower your insurance premiums, and it will reflect the sun's rays to keep your home cooler. 

Of course, the roof of a building is an important part of its aesthetics, defining its style and period. Ideally, an older roof should be replaced with one in the same material, colour and design. If that's not possible, owners should find something that alters the character as little as possible. 

I can't say a metal roof adds to the charm of this older home with gingerbread:

New porches and balconies nowadays are in rustic natural wood. To me the modern rustic look is great on a cottage in Muskoka but looks incongruous on an older home in the city.

I'm aware that wood is expensive and rarely of the same quality our ancestors had in large quantities. And it's difficult to get replacement turned wood or gingerbread these days, although heritage practitioners should at least be consulted for up to date woodwork replacements. And as I've mentioned elsewhere even vinyl can look  appropriate. And what ever happened to paint?

But I suspect the rustic look is trendy. Everybody needs to do it cause it's the latest thing. 

While a bit is not bad ...

 ... too much on an older building is weird:

The biggest changes, though, are to windows. The Home Efficiency Rebate allows for new windows that are supposed to make homes greener. I'm all for "green" but some windows just look wrong in an older building. Either a) more appropriate windows aren't available b) they're too expensive for many building owners or c) people just don't realize how odd their replacement windows look.

The stately Italianate below, like many older buildings, has window replacements. The problem is that  large panes like this weren't available when the house was built ca. 1880s. Some may believe this building has a fresh, up-to-the-minute look, but I find the replacement single panes out of place. 

I remember when the stately building below was symmetrical. Unfortunately, someone had the idea of inserting a new bay window. While it no doubt brightens the interior, the old balanced look is gone. Also, note the new cheap-looking door frame and doors that don't match.  Done on the cheap. 

Sash windows are being replaced with casements. A sash window usually consists of a wooden frame with two panes in it. Each pane is roughly half the size of the opening with a slight overlap, one window behind the other. The window can be opened by raising the bottom part, which will slide vertically in channels in the outer frame.

Casement windows are built with hinges so that the sections open outwards like doors. The vast majority of new windows are casements, which may provider a wider view and better ventilation. But they seldom look right in an older home.

Below are two East London homes built about the same time, judging by the similar sizing and details. The home on the right has a new casement-style window upstairs. Again, while some will like this update, it seems inappropriate to "purists" like me. 

Older windows often had muntins, strips of wood or metal separating and holding panes of glass:

Some people have added fake muntins. Here they're crooked to boot:

How about new windows and a wooden deck?

Some folks modernize old homes to the point where they no longer look old. If you want a new house, why not buy one? I know, people like the ambiance of older neighbourhoods. But must they update their homes to death?

A porthole? Ahoy mateys!

Sometimes only the general shape indicates the bones of an older home underneath: 

Ditto. New roof, new siding, new porch, new windows ... 

This older home was red brick. Now it has a new white surface, new metal roof, new windows, new skylight, new garage door, and new entrance. One assumes the inside is similarly "updated." They might as well have torn it down and started over.

Behind this weird new commercial front lies an older cottage.

Finally, there are the people with no aesthetic sense whatsoever:

What's disheartening is that so many people think they're improving an old place when they're actually decreasing its historic and architectural value, not to mention ruining its charm.

As I see it, there are five main problems:

1. Appropriate building restoration materials are expensive or unavailable.

2. Many people think the appearance of old buildings is improved by modernization.

3. Most people don't know anything about architecture.

4. And a lot of them have no taste.

5. What we call "heritage" is out of style. 

Seriously, everything in this world is "in" for a while,  then "out" for a  time. Then, after a few years or decades, it comes back "in." Apparently my aesthetic principles are out. It's getting to the point where I like ruins. I love this poignant pioneer homestead east of London on land scheduled for development:

I also like nice  wooden sashes, even if they do need of a coat of paint. Bonus: stained glass keyhole. 

No, not even I want to save that topsy-turvy garage. But the derelict home, definitely:

What a cute unspoiled cottage. Just needs new front steps painted a nice cream colour.

The scene below is typical of so many older buildings in London. Either a fire or general neglect has left this building boarded up and uninhabitable:

But if any of these buildings are "rescued," what will they look like?