For those of you who missed Part I, you can get it
here
11:42-11:51 pm. Arrive at City Hall, and it is awash in laser light, smoke, and what looks like the weirdest ziplining I've ever seen. I learn that this exhibit is an exploration of urban flight. Apparently this means that people line up for hours for a chance to harness themselves into a bird like contraption (based on an albatross' wings) and zipline all of 20 feet from one platform to another. There's also a cardboard cut out that you can use to simulate hand-held flight outside of your car. You know, for those times when you need your right hand to achieve flight. This whole set up comes off as slightly desperate, like someone tried just a little too hard to be clever. But, I'm a sucker for lasers. Look at those pretty colors!
12:01-12:13 am.Walking down Bay street allows me to make a few observations. There are a lot of people out tonight, and there is a crazy energy about, like its Christmas for the artsy-hipster crowd. There are also a lot of confused faces, to go along with whimsical smiles. This makes me feel better because even the artistic crowd is somewhat puzzled/bemused. I'm not totally ignorant after all! Suddenly a drum car appears in front of me. It's a car that has been deconstructed and now houses snares, symbols, basses, and cowbells (!) of all kinds. The drummer looks like he's been drumming since the 60s. I'm digging it. And now there's a lit balloon suspended between two skyscrapers, swaying violently in the wind. Chimes sound out at random intervals. I learn later that there is a cellphone number you can call to make it chime. I call it vigorously. I'm still calling it.
12:18-1:01 am. Now things start to get really crazy. I stumble upon a full size tennis court deep in the heart of the financial district. I learn that two individuals are replaying the famous 1980 Wimbledon tiebreak between Bjorn Borg and Patrick McEnroe. 34 points will be recreated as authentically as conditions will allow. There is a scorer's table replete with a droll English commentator, an umpire's chair, and four ball boys. Most importantly there are Borg and McEnroe! Complete with 80s curly fros, white, mid-thigh hugging shorts (which takes serious balls--pun intended--considering temperatures have dipped to below freezing), and wooden rackets. I am beyond excited. As they play I am amazed by the attention to detail. The lovingly re-created service motions, the serve and volley style, the shorts--they're so short!
1:02-1:52 am. It is freezing. I'm in a winter coat, scarf, and gloves and I wish that I wore two more layers. I meet up with my friend Grace and her friends. For some reason they have been standing in line for over an hour to get a common household item from a guy who is giving away his personal effects in a decorated bus shelter. It's called the Free Shop. Eventually they show me the spoils of their labor: a cheese slicer, a dented tin, a magazine, and a threadbare scarf. Totally worth it. We move on to an exhibit called Soon. Basically, it feels like you've just escaped prison. There are spotlights everywhere, highlighting various individuals from obscene heights. Some people try to escape but they are quickly spotted. There is a constant droning which crescendos periodically, as if a helicopter is forever on your heels. It's massive, interactive fun. I run a little to stay warm. The spotlights miss me. Apparently Asians are non-threatening. After permanently escaping this exhibit we decide to enter a coffee serving atrium to warm and relieve ourselves. Not a moment too soon for I am losing circulation to my legs. I take a photo of myself outside the bathroom. It's Art. Trust me.
1:59-2:07 am. We stagger outside and come across a mass memorial of lit candles in a sandy enclave. It is a tribute to the sacrifice of migrant workers in Toronto. Next there's an alley that looks like it's constantly raining. It reminds me of a cartoon where a character is cursed to have a rain cloud constantly hovering over him. I enter with a friend under a sturdy umbrella. It's pretty cool because it's raining and misty, and the lighting is at mid-body level. Makes it dramatic. Also makes me wet.
2:16-2:24. Meet up with friend Steve for the 2 am to sunrise shift. Eat Tiny Tom's donuts. They taste warm, soft, sweet, and heavenly. We buy 3 dozen to get the fourth dozen free. I seriously consider buying 6 dozen. Steve and I get trapped in caution tape. Now, a group of four artists are pushing a large boulder over metal cylinders, carefully removing each cylinder that the rock just passed over and placing it in front of the oncoming rock. Like Sisyphus, except without the eternal punishment, because this is how they actually want to spend their free time. Apparently they have been doing this for 4 straight days, 5 hours per day. Asking why seems almost snarky at this point. I let it go.
2:30-2:45. We decide to head into the Eaton's Center because there's supposed to be some cool stuff, but mainly because it's warm. There is a paucity of cool stuff. There are robots that supposedly follow you around and take pictures of you. You have to sign a waiver to participate. As it turns out the waiver is superfluous because the robot spends the majority of its time running away from Steve and I. When we leave we observe it happily taking photos of others. We surmise that the robot is racist.
2:57-3:03 am. Steve has not yet seen The Heart Machine. He needs to see The Heart Machine.
3:10-3:27 am. We enter a building and there are rows of multicolored clay statues, corresponding to different emotions. I'll let you guess what this little orange guy stood for. Hint: you'll never guess. Afterward we are encouraged to crush him mercilessly, which we do, and we are immediately asked how it feels to destroy something that another person has created. Dude, it's 3:30 am, stop f***ing with my mind. We walk some more and I lose more extremities to the cold. Now there are lights in an alley which undulate when various hanging poles are pulled upon. They're supposed to be clouds. Why couldn't they simulate tropical islands?
3:28-3:45 am. Steve really needs to go to the washroom, propelling us to the nearest 24 hour gas station. There is a line for the unisex stall. While waiting in line a Lady of the Night approaches us. She is in a red dress, cut low to reveal a black bra, torn stockings, high heels, and too much mascara. It is a very unflattering dress, especially from behind. She looks tired and must feel cold, considering her lack of weather appropriate clothing. She really needs to pee, apparently more so than Steve, because she tells him that. Steve does not argue. I privately wonder what affliction could possibly necessitate a constant, strong urge to pee. I decide that I will not avail myself of her services if they are so offered. To my immense relief, they are not. I also decide against any pictures. Use your imagination, I know I'm trying my best not to use mine.
3:46-3:54 am. Things are starting to blur now after walking for almost 6.5 hours. There's an exhibit where you can pretend to be in a sitcom as the dad, complete with a pre-recorded family, cue cards, full television crew, and a slightly embarrassing projection of your corniness on a two story wall. There's one which combines light and sound, that change in relation to a motion sensor so that "no two artistic experiences are the same." Me and Steve's experiences are remarkably similar: that was lame.
4:02-4:15 am. Just what the doctor ordered: a break! There are colorfully decorated cardboard boxes strewn about a street, and some light reading to peruse. It's in Russian, how delightful! There's even a band that serenades us while we sit. Nearby there's free coffee. Absolutely wonderful. And then there's a large colorful exhibit displaying the faces of various sex dolls and witticisms from their owners. Charming.
4:16-4:30 am. A long walk between exhibits. It starts to rain, which makes me colder. I mentally shake my fist at Art and it's seductiveness. My spirits are soon lifted because lo and behold, the next attraction is indoors! But now we have to take off our shoes and walk through a rectangular puddle of freezing water. Suddenly there are half-submerged logs we have to traverse, something about evoking the rugged loggers of our Canadian heritage. My parents were born in Malaysia, Steve's in Hong Kong. Our lumberjack roots are sorely lacking. I openly question the wisdom of stepping barefoot in a puddle where at least 500 pairs of feet have already tread. I am promised sanitizer at the end. There is none. One final irony: there is simulated rain. It is now raining indoors, outdoors, and in my soul.
4:59- 5:15 am. We decide to check out the Bata Shoe Museum. Inside there's an exhibit where you tweet about the future, a computer analyzes the emotional tone of your tweet and prints out your message on a corresponding colored paper, and then they make paper cranes out of them. Borderline Art. Downstairs is an X-box Kinects where you can map your movements onto movable stars, becoming a mobile galaxy. Steve and I simultaneously decide to Hadukan! one another. Finally, there's a room where overweight men attempt to sell you on a revolutionary gaming system in which a headband reads your EEG brain waves. The game is called Quetzal. It is terrible. The point of it is to meditate and concentrate to open mystical walls, walk on water, and somehow win the heart of a Mayan warrior-princess and her avian companion. Not a good idea to meditate at 5 am. Also not fun, in the least.
5:09-5:48 am. Now we are driving to get to the final pieces of Art. Driving is definitely the way to see Art. We arrive at Casa Loma. There are headless mannequins with dresses and it is very dark and rainy. It is exceedingly creepy. There are some window displays and Christmas lights. Not worth the trip.
6:02-6:44 am. We drive to other supposed Art locations, only to learn that they have closed early. What?!? Nuit Blanche specifically states that Art last from 7:00 pm to sunrise the next day. We have officially outlasted Art. We feel cheated and empty. We decide to drown our sorrows in a large, hearty breakfast as the sun rises, grey and gloomy. Till next year Art; for now, 9 hours and 14 minutes later, we part as friends.
