Neon dreams

Don't look too closely
Grand Bend, ON
July 2019
This photo originally shared on Instagram

We often don't realize what we've lost until it's too late.

This occurred to me as my family and I strolled along Grand Bend's main drag on a hot and sunny afternoon last summer. Not far from the beach that gives this town its name, we came across an ice cream store that seemed to have been around forever, and I was instantly drawn to its vintage neon sign.

I couldn't remember the last time I had seen one, and while I instantly chimed into why this was the case, I nevertheless felt oddly nostalgic.

Neon isn't terribly energy efficient, especially compared to newer display technologies. It's expensive to make, and ponderous to maintain. It may be difficult to find anyone who knows how it works. It just can't compete against today's giant-sized high-def screens that turn streetscapes into multimedia playgrounds - all controlled by a smartphone.

But this isn't a discussion about the latest technology. It's about art, and the things it says about us, about certain eras, and the lives that were led during them. It's about the way art serves as a signature to who we are, and defines us.

Neon would have dominated long before I was born, when the world looked, felt, and worked very differently than it does today. It painted the urban look when my parents and in-laws were young, and the city at night was their playground. It was their story more than mine.

And when neon vanishes, the stories may fade as well. Which is why despite the fact that old neon signs look pretty sad in the daylight, I'm not quite ready to say goodbye to them for good.

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