 |
| students studying in Donnelly |
UofT is a place of learning—erudite,
splendid, yet humble—beautifully epitomizing “new embracing old”. When new
embraces old, we get magic. Wizard-magic. Harry Potter kind of magic. The kind of
magic that only someone who is open, faithful, and confident can wield. This is
ancient magic. The magic that lurks like Reznikoff’s ghost in the ancient halls
of University College, or the magic currently wielded at 1 Spadina. A magic
borne of wisdom, lore, and story.
 |
| Terrence Donnelly Centre |
The St. George campus of UofT lies
embedded in the city of Toronto, steps away from the upscale shopping district
of Yonge and Bloor and not much farther from the bustle of the financial
district on King and Bay. It’s a bracing walk to Union Station, where every
moving vehicle ends up at some time. UofT sprawls like an amoeba of neutrinos
through the parliament buildings of University Avenue, making subtle changes
here and there. Recreating the fabric of the cityscape in muonic subtleties.
In Part 1 of my
Old / New journey, I wrote about my walk south
from the St. George TTC station along St. George to the Galbraith and Bahen
buildings, where I teach in science and engineering. I currently also teach in
the Bloomberg Health Sciences building on College Street. It lies directly
across from a building that has long held my curiosity: the Terrence Donnelly
Centre for Cellular & Biomolecular Research (CCBR).
 |
| Spiral staircase on 6th floor |
Donnelly is where some of the
coolest research and discoveries in biomolecular
and cellular research are being made. Benjamin
Blencowe and his team’s recent uncovering a protein’s sweeping influence on
autism last December using
introverted mice, for instance. Named after the
philanthropist Terrence J. Donnelly, the centre was the vision of UofT
Professors Cecil Yip and James Friesen. In the 1990s they foresaw that new
genomic technologies would open up progress in biomedical research in a time
when there was no human genome sequence or stem cell technologies and DNA
sequencing was slow and inexpensive. Yip and Friesen envisioned a collaborative
interdisciplinary research facility that, when it opened in 2005, brought
together over 500 specialists—biologists, computer
scientists, physicians, pharmacists and engineers—to advance the university's
groundbreaking research in molecular biology.
 |
| entrance to atrium of Donnelly |
Designed by ArchitectsAlliance
and Behnisch Architekten, Donnelly is a sustainable, transparent 12-storey
building that promotes collaborative research within flexible, loft-style open
concept laboratories and social spaces: ideal for interaction and sharing of
ideas. "The Terence Donnelly Centre for Cellular and Biomolecular Research
... is intelligent, unconventional architecture designed through a strong
collaboration between local Toronto architects and German gurus of
high-technology design," writes Lisa Rochon of the Globe and Mail (2005).
"Three faculties—medicine, pharmacy and engineering and applied
sciences—agreed to participate, so that biologists might start brainstorming in
the same labs along with computer scientists and chemists," Rochon adds.
The centre is located on what was
previously Taddle Creek Road. The CCBR building—which from
College Street resembles two colourful stacked cubes—is set back by a gradually
sloping plaza with granite benches and groves of white paper birch. The
building and plaza are flanked by several historic buildings (80-year old
Fitzgerald Medical Building to the east; the 1919 Rosebrugh Institute of
Biomaterials and 100-year old Lassonde Mining building to the west; and the
Medical Sciences Building to the north).
 |
| staircase past bamboo garden in atrium |
Upon entering the complex, the
granite plaza gives way to white terrazzo flooring in an expansive multi-storey
atrium. The top lit glass-ceilinged atrium connects the adjacent heritage
Rosebrugh building to the CCBR in a counterpoint of techno-minimalism with
Romanesque tradition. While clearly expressing its 21st century vision,
Donnelly honours the earlier work of Frederick Banting and Charles
Best—scientists who discovered insulin in 1921—by sharing its western wall with
the brick exterior of the Rosebrugh building, where research into diabetes
continues.
 |
| Rosebrugh wall in atrium |
My eyes feasted on this rich
expression of old and new, starting with the articulated buff coloured
brickwork—the row-lock brick patterning and tall Roman corbelled arch
windows—of the western wall. My gaze swung to the textured green
of the giant bamboo garden in front of it; and finally to the sweeping
staircase ahead of me. As I walked up the shallow wide steps lined by pillars
that reached skyward, I felt drawn to the bamboo forest to my left. Created by
landscape architect Diana Gerrard, the garden offers several "picnic"
sites of wooden platforms and benches, which I learned had come from the ash,
tulip and cherry trees that had occupied the original lane way.
Rochon suggests that "three
elements enliven the architecture: landscape, history and natural light. There
is an insertion of greenery, not only at the atrium level, but also on three
research floors where plantings of black olive trees and a creeping fig create
a sense of moderate climates without resorting to palm trees." Standing on the fifth floor of a
research corridor that also overlooks five stories down in the atrium, I
enjoyed a splendid view of how new embraced old through these elements.
 |
| View of picnic nook from 3rd floor |
On my way to the elevator on the
second level, I passed several seminar and lecture halls. Colour-coded, like
much of the building, there is the "Red Room", the "White
Room" or the "Black Room", projecting outward into the wide
corridor like giant pods with surfaces polished in mosaic tiles from
Italy.
I took the elevator to the
twelfth floor to explore several of the research floors, finding several
multi-storied enclaves of trees, wooden floors and benches or desks that
invited. These staff lounges, along with a system of open corridors and
stairwells encourage informal, interdisciplinary contact on which
scientific discoveries are built. I wound my way down on a series of stairs
that spiraled like a DNA helix and a dizzying zigzag of stairs that hung over
the bamboo-forested atrium. Gazing up from a hanging stairway off the fourth
floor, I rested my eyes on a researcher sitting at a desk on the fifth floor:
she perched over the atrium like a bird on a tree limb. I was reminded of the Salk Institute in La
Jolla, California, where interaction is promoted between scientists and
researchers of the various disciplines through ingenious design.
 |
| View of Donnelly from the west |
"That it is a 12-storey,
shifting box of transparency is an act of intelligent decisions and of
unconventional thinking around what a curtain wall should look like,"
writes Rochon of Donnelly. Rochon describes the south-facing facade as a double
skin of glass, which permits solar and acoustic control and provides a rich
transparency on the building's primary face. From within the research offices,
it's possible to open and close the inner skin of windows. The exterior
glass
wall acts "like a big sweater" lined with metal louvres. Each office
has electronic controls to operate the thermostat, the light switch and the
louvres." The east, west and north facades are glazed with patterned
ceramic fritted glass and coloured laminated glass, providing shade and some
privacy. The north façade is a curtain wall, providing light into the building;
the east has a pattern of laminated coloured glass representing genetic code;
the west façade has dotted fritting applied to its glazed panels and is highly
transparent to show the colours of Donnelly’s 11 research departments painted
on the hallway walls. Gardens are watered via roof runoff, collected by an
integrated stormwater system.
 |
| 6-story Atrium of Donnelly Centre |
Donnelly “is not so much an
object as a system that coerces a variety of disciplines to interact,” writes
Jiing-yen of the University of Waterloo.
UofT Faculty Club: Every
journey requires repast—a place to relax, eat and drink—and my feet naturally
directed me to one of my new favourite haunts: the UofT Faculty Club. Located
close to the hub of the campus, on Willcocks Street just east of Spadina, the club
is open to members who include faculty, staff, graduate alumni and their
guests. I entered the 1896 heritage building, built in a Georgian
Revival-style, and passed the elegant first floor lounge to the pub below. The
pub welcomed me with excellent food, drink and a relaxing ambience. Bathed in
rich tones of wood and comfortable chairs and warmed by a cozy fireplace, it
reminded me of a Dorset pub I’d visited years ago; full of colourful characters
and a well-stocked bar. I felt both at home and like a traveler. Like I’d
walked into history with modern comfort. I ordered the beet salad from my
friendly waitress; it provided a refreshing and attractive light meal for a
mid-day traveller.
What better place to end my
journey of “new embracing old” than in a place where “old embraces new.”
