Every year at the height of summer, the Fringe Festival invades Winnipeg and the cobblestone sidewalks of the Exchange District come alive as artists' kiosks, shops and restaurants overflow with people late into the evening.
It's almost as if, for a short time, our tranquil warehouse district masquerades as a little piece of New York's Greenwich Village. When the Fringe moves on and the streets again fall quiet, we are left to wonder what might be done to capture a small piece of that vibrancy and maintain it throughout the year.
By Greg Hasiuk, MAA, SAA, MRAIC, LEED®AP
Practice Leader, Number TEN Architectural Group
Technology is no longer a curious and separate aspect of our lives; it is now part of us. It is as fluid as a conversation, and as complex as our relationships. Buildings are only part of the equation for meeting the educational needs of children if they are to succeed in our exponentially changing times.
As Thomas Friedman tells us, the world truly is flat. Asia’s fast growing population, rise in wealth, and increasing access to education and technology has created a genuinely global world. Traditional careers in western society that generated wealth and stature are no longer guaranteed to do so. “Information Age” careers such as accounting, law, engineering and even medicine are now being challenged by a cheaper workforce from across the globe. China will soon be the largest English-speaking country in the world, with India not far behind. New skills are needed for our children to succeed, and they need to be taught and inspired in our schools.
It's an ironic coincidence that during the last three decades, with the rise in popularity of Tim Hortons, not only are Canadians' collective midriffs beginning to resemble the shape of a doughnut, but so too are many of our cities.
Referred to as the "doughnut effect," places like Winnipeg have seen a migration of population and commerce to the edges of the city, creating an economic void in the centre. As sprawling suburbs and big-box retail centres leapfrog each other outward, the city becomes less dense, less sustainable and weakened at its core. Many once-proud inner-city neighbourhoods now struggle with issues of crime and poverty as a result.
Coming from rural southern Manitoba, it’s easy to think that we don’t have any “architectural heritage” to look to for inspiration. However, our prairie landscape is rich with remnants that tell the story of our ancestor’s. In my case, it’s the story of people who embraced their community and who were very intentional about how they carried on the traditions of the place they came from.
Many Winnipeggers share the childhood memory of eagerly tearing open the wax-paper wrapping, chewing that stale stick of gum while flipping through a new pack of hockey cards in search of their favourite players.
For most, the trading cards have been lost somewhere in time, but occasionally an old collection forgotten in the back of the closet is uncovered to reveal a valuable link to the past.
Like that collection of old hockey cards, hidden away for years, the buildings of Winnipeg's Exchange District have survived because they had largely been forgotten. Decades of slow growth has meant little pressure to redevelop the area, resulting in a substantially intact collection of historic buildings.