Aug
26
A couple of years ago, I noticed a popular paper shop in Toronto, The Japanese Paper Place, with a new sign out front, The Paper Place. Curious, I walked into the shop, not only finding an old acquaintance of mine working in the shop, but also co-owner of the revamped store. As it turned out, Nancy Jacobi, owner and founder of The Japanese Paper Place, set shop as a supplier and resource for artists in her Brock Avenue offices, and sold her existing Queen West retail business to her senior managers, Kevin Anderson and Heather Sauer.
Fascinated with the new storefront, the new business and the new guard (or guards, in this case) I probed further as to what future Nancy envisioned for her original business, mission and creative goals, as she left one pursuit for another. What I found was a remarkable story about a person who believed that anything was possible, that artists were essential in creating a community, and the art the artists created was part of building a thriving, world-class city.
Originally, I had written this article for the Devil’s Artisan. Unfortunately however, I somehow managed to mix-up my writing deadline and missed my window for the editorial lineup. (To this day, I feel awful about that!)
Although this profile remains as a draft, and the information is suspect to fact-checking and an update (The Japanese Paper Place has celebrated a few more birthday since its twenty-fifth year in business) I’m including my findings below, in parts, for two reasons. First, I feel Nancy’s lifework and contribution to the arts, worldwide, should have an audience (one that extends beyond my hard drive). Second, for anyone struggling with a dream or where to start, I want to emphasize the importance of the extraordinary possibility of an idea–no matter how unusual (original!) or arbitrary (opportunity!) it may be, since it is usually that very auspicious thought that’s one for the books!
On a weekday afternoon, of an unusually warm day, Toronto’s Queen Street West is aglow. New parents to matching pooches, take turns running in and out of shops. Aspiring actors, flushed from a yoga class, drip with sweat and money ready to burn. Hipsters exchange numbers and firm up their set lists for upcoming showcases. The neighborhood graffiti has polish and even the sidewalk looks shiny and new. After several years, condos and commercial boîtes have migrated on either end of the historic street, and with it, have come the many fresh faces looking to experience nuances remaining of the old neighborhood. Home to a variety of Japanese paper products and ephemera, The Japanese Paper Place is one such landmark.
In between where Queen Street almost becomes dated, and then, finds its cool again, The Japanese Paper Place is a respite for artists, students, crafters, and just plain paper curious who see the resourceful shop as their sole destination. The store is a surround of delicate papers, stationery, tools and design curiosities–such as wooden toys, ceramic charms and spiral Italian paperclips–that inspire a multitude of creative possibilities. Patterned papers hang like framed works of art. Handmade lanterns illuminate as small statues. Early music plays in the background. Gorgeous colours and designs overwhelm. Upon entering, it’s easy to forget one’s original idea, perhaps a common occurrence. For the forgetful, fickle and sometimes novice, the shop stocks up on small individual samples and loot bags with resplendent scraps, ties and tissue-like papers otherwise pricey on their own. There are too many treasures to be taken away with among the slim, paper-laden drawers. Leaving empty-handed is rarely an option.
The Japanese Paper Place is like a venerable institution. It strikes the perfect balance of history with the comfort of knowing that such a place (amidst the yuppie puff) exists today. However, on this one afternoon visit, I had noticed a change.
At first the difference was hard to recognize. The shop was still full of its signature paper stock and products. The space however, was different. The stuffiness of the shop had vanished. The atmosphere was light and airy; quarters felt larger but, surprisingly, intact. Shelves filled with traditional, Japanese, paper-covered journals also included books by artists, Lotta Jandsotter and Jill Bliss. Screenprinted Japanese-looking notecards line-up beside pre-packaged stationery featuring Yoshitomo Nara’s wicked-cutesy depictions of young girls, Charles Anderson’s whimsical vintage-inspired greetings, and demure patterns from hard-to-find San Francisco company, Oh Boy! Artifacts. A shelf is devoted to ceramic salt and pepper shakers from Montreal. And the music, is John Legend. Songs from Once Again envelop engaged couples who pour over binders, determined to leave with wedding-invite paper samples. Another couple, mother-daughter, are indifferent. Both blonde ambitions, both looking more like the other, sip Starbucks while sizing birthday cards through their oversized sunglasses. The shop is incredibly busy–buzzing with Queen Street’s nubile personalities and do-it-yourselfers, with bookmarked Blueprint and Martha Stewart Living in tow. As I exit, I notice the overhanging sign above the store: “The Paper Place.” The change, now not so subtle, I needed to explore. TO BE CONTINUED….
Comments
the japanese paper place has been a huge source of inspiration for me since university. it was there that i learned about bookbinding and gocco over 15 years ago. gorgeous papers dangle in front of you like candy, supplies and tools lure you to make something. i am always so honoured when people tell me that the workroom is like the japanese paper place for fabric.
I think many people would share your thoughts and feelings K. The JPP has been almost a right of passage for the curious, the creative, and the conscious. With your bolts of Japanese fabrics, lined up in rows, delicate prints, subtle details, you do offer the textile version of paper. Watch this post for photographs I took of the JPP warehouse that will make this point totally apparent in the next couple of weeks.