My whirlwind Saturday at Luminato began frozen still and ended in a sea of movement as I joined the hoards braving blazing summer heat at events across downtown.
Shortly after 11 a.m., Fashion magazine held a flash mob in Yonge-Dundas Square, a five-minute frozen tableau of some 50 models and volunteers decked in their whitest whites to strike a pose. Though it failed to provoke the widespread confusion, awe and amusement it sought among passersby, it was a striking sight under the large white balloons swaying overhead.
More than 12 hours later, a sizable crowd assembled in the same square and donned earphones for a silent dance party, grooving to a synchronized iPod playlist in eerie quiet. But the day belonged to the conspicuously sweaty musical sets of a pair of celebrations.
The Ontario College of Art and Design held a retrospective on Queen Street's artistic golden era of cheap eating, easy living and culture-defining music with an afternoon of bands and films. The rectangular box atop OCAD largely blocked the sun, providing a breezy oasis for a group that remained appreciative- despite some long-time followers of headliners Mary Margaret O'Hara and the Parachute Club whispering to me that the revivals fell short of their original magic.
Time stood still today as a flash mob of more than 100 people froze in Yonge-Dundas Square in Toronto. The urban art installation, presented by FASHION Magazine in partnership with Luminato, invited participants of all ages to strike a pose alongside models from Elite Toronto. (Claudia Hung/Fashion Magazine)
A short stroll away, Nathan Phillips Square staged the On the One Funk Festival, which stole the spotlight with an afternoon of music and dance competitions followed by legendary funk acts James Brown's Soul Generals and Morris Day and the Time.
The day's big surprise was an unannounced set by Brian Culbertson and the Funk Experience. The band's saxophonist, Marqueal Jordan, told me they had to sneak quietly onto the festival roster to escape the wrath of organizers of a Barry Manilow concert they were set to open later that evening.
Local beat box specialist Subliminal offered the day's most creative performance, recording the crowd's chants with audience microphones to create a live beat, drumming on his bassist's guitar fret and enlisting a barbershop quartet to open his act.
Then came the Soul Generals, led by James Brown's son Daryl, who had large segments of the capacity crowd dancing ecstatically, interrupted only by Mr. Brown demanding that technicians eliminate some faint microphone feedback, saying his father would not have tolerated such glitches.
And finally Morris Day appeared clad in a white suit and silver fur cloak, his trademark vanity on display as he primped regularly in onstage mirrors. After more than an hour of his band's bouncing melodies, there was hardly a pair of hips not swaying among thousands.
Toweling down in his trailer, Mr. Brown told me of the difficult time he had dealing with his father's death, and his desire to help heal a music industry "in bad shape." He was quick to lavish praise on Toronto's cultural scene.
"I tell you man, Toronto has always been dear to me. Toronto has so much things going on, man, as far as the arts. They have more than any state in the United States."
Asked about his plans for the night, he chuckled and said, "Just in case my wife sees this, I'm going to bed, honey." But bedtime was as distant as dawn, and we shuffled off to a private after-party at Revival Bar. By 2:30 a.m., it had become an informal jam session, the Soul Generals commandeering a much smaller stage and setting a lucky group of about 100 swaying once more.
Follow James Bradshaw's daily diary exploring Luminato's sights, sounds and personalities.