For those of you who've experienced an uneasy feeling when witnessing massive machinery clawing down a derelict or historic building and thought, "gee, I wish someone could have saved that," allow me to introduce you to the amazing work at the Willowbank School of Restoration Arts.

Having just graduated the first class in their 3-year program, the school - despite the age of the main estate - is still very young. With only a small handful of students at the institution (of varying ages), low tuition, and a general philosophy that hands-on work is as important as theory, Willowbank is truly one of the most beautiful and unique (if somewhat esoteric) post-secondary institutions I've ever visited. The school itself is one of their major projects!

People-watching in Toronto's Yorkville neighbourhood is the pastime of many. One can sit for hours observing the glamorous shops and their patrons, trying to pick out the rich and famous.

I, however, prefer to watch buildings. We chose this particular spot that day not because of the glitz and glamor, but rather because of the richness of vision it offered. I am rarely in this particular neighbourhood, so I found it rather enjoyable to place myself above it - and its people - if only for a few hours.

During the railway rush in the late 1800s, Mr. Gibson, a contractor, had Ringwood Manor built in the town we now know as Whitby Ontario. Unfortunately, after an economic decline in that arena, the bank foreclosed the property before the turn of the century.

A common landmark for those who cruise the 401 Eastward from Toronto, this beautiful mansion has suffered from many a malady in this last decade. From a broken pipe flooding its interior, to the reckless and insistent work of vandals and arsonists, the place has died a slow death. A descendant of the original builder reported in a local newspaper that they thought the place was beyond repair; perhaps this is true, but it was, and still is not beyond a closer inspection

In 1919, the Canadian Northern Railway opened its locomotive house and repair shop in what would develop into Toronto's Leaside neighbourhood. With the increasing importance of the rails in the latter part of the 19th century, the Leaside Junction (as it was known then) gained increasing importance, and grew from that point.

Despite the seeming 'front' of the building in its current state, the original facade was at the rear, facing eastward; its architect, Frederick Todd, built this flat-roofed building in a very practical manner that would maximize the use of space and increase efficiency, with expediency in the repair of the craft as its logical conclusion. It's come a long way since those days, but unfortunately has been all but forgotten.

We found ourselves staring directly down where the ebb and flow of the river of DVP cars breaks into separate streams. Usually on my rooftopping journeys, I imagine that I will never get to see that particular view again, and hence try to make the most of my time. This would be no exception.

I did, however, make a second sojourn to retrieve a forgotten memory card; this time, we were greeted with an eerie rolling fog coming in from the west, which, coupled with the already settling smog, made the city all around (save for the east), fade into beautiful, if somewhat ominous, layers. This fresh perspective from the same view served to me as a reminder that no matter how cold and harsh the city may sometimes appear (especially as a pedestrian), that the city is eternally new, and that appearance is at the self-same time everything, and nothing.

My somewhat obsessed relationship with the derelict Ontario Hospital for the Insane in Whitby began somewhere in the bridge of the late 90s and early thousands. What turned out to be a tainted love was initiated by my new (at the time) friend Ninj, who, knowing my various obsessions, led me to the place for the first time.

As fate would have it, I ended up knowing several nurses at the site during its various iterations. Most projects, as they say, start off with the best of intentions, and in the first two decades of the 20th century, the theory and initial development of the old Whitby psych was no exception.