Photographer Norman Fox took this photo of me on the back service stairs a couple days ago.
I’ve lived in many different kinds of alternative spaces.
Many Vancouver warehouses. The back storeroom of a friend’s clothing store. A
squat in New York City. A closet in the NYU dorms when I was posing as a
student to get free rent in the city. The legendary Ca Chapel space in
Tallahassee, Florida. I even tried living on a city building’s rooftop for a
month (not my best idea). And most recently, Room 103 at the Waldorf Hotel here
in Vancouver. The Waldorf Hotel stands on its own in this list. It was the
first place I’ve ever moved into with absolute certainty of what I was doing. I
had a plan and a focus that was lacking in most of previous domestic decisions.
I had a project to finish and I knew I needed to be in the middle of an
artistically charged atmosphere. I made the right choice.
The Waldorf differs from the previous warehouse and squat
situations I’ve lived in because of its inclusivity. It was public. It had
cross-generational appeal. On weekends I would witness young club kids
intermingling with people old enough to be their grandparents. In the past week
I have read countless articles describing the hotel as a “Hipster” enclave and
I feel that is a tragic misnomer. The word “hipster” infers exclusivity, the
antithesis of what the Waldorf has represented. It has been a vital public
space and a gathering point for a cross section of Vancouver communities.
Living in the middle of it was exciting and inspiring. It housed no irony. The
Waldorf Hotel was a sincere and impassioned venture. It literally vibrated on
weekends with the bass beats of the world’s best dj’s and the energy of crowds
who moved from space to space, each room an entirely new world. New experience.
I was just downstairs in the empty restaurant playing the
grand piano. Taking a moment alone with bamboo, oak, and shiny black laminate. I needed that time to reflect over what was accomplished here. This building came to life
over the past three years with the love that was shown to it. It became the
lady it was meant to be. I needed to say good bye. To say thank you.
Another Norman Fox image looking up the cabaret entrance stairway.
