They were already reading: What a TAIWANfest audience revealed about the Invisible Cross of Toronto

The Invisible Cross of Toronto exhibition at TaiwanFest 2026

Two visitors to the exposition, on separate days, asked the same question. “Is it a religious cross?”

Architect and urban researcher Paige Wen had spent more than a year studying the shape that Yonge and Bloor make across Toronto. She had examined it through maps, streets, property lines and infrastructure, but had never seen a crucifix. It took someone walking into the exhibition to point it out.

Visitors spending time reading the story panels of The Invisible Cross of Toronto exposition at TaiwanFest 2026, Harbourfront Centre.
Visitors spending time reading the story panels of The Invisible Cross of Toronto exposition at Toronto TAIWANfest 2026, Harbourfront Centre. [P. Wen (photographer), 2026]

Origins of the Invisible Cross

In August 2026, Wen presented The Invisible Cross of Toronto at Toronto TAIWANfest, Harbourfront Centre. The project, originally published as a four-part series on Toronto Spark, traces how the cross that every Torontonian navigates by was never designed. Yonge was a 12,000-year-old trail before it was a street. The Park Lots of 1793 fixed the east-west lines. Bloor spent a century as the city’s edge before horsecars and annexation turned it into a corridor. The subway inherited the cross, one arm in 1954, the other twelve years later.

What the four articles had not fully addressed was the scale beyond the city. Yonge was not simply a Toronto street. It was also a meridian for the colonization of Southern Ontario: the coordinate line from which concession roads were measured across the territory. In Toronto, that territorial line became part of the city’s everyday orientation system.

The Invisible Cross as a coordinate system: Yonge Street and Bloor mark the lines through which Toronto connects to a larger territorial survey.
The Invisible Cross as a coordinate system: Yonge Street and Bloor mark the lines through which Toronto connects to a larger territorial survey.
Interpreted by P. Wen, based on James Cane, Toronto Reference Library, 1842

Finding the Right Words

During the talk, with the room full and a few people standing at the back, one audience member described how he had used Yonge and Bloor while apartment-hunting. He had unconsciously used the cross to orient each choice: which side of Yonge, how far from Bloor. The lecture had given him the word for what he had been doing.

The fourth article in the series concluded that Torontonians navigate the cross but cannot read it. His story suggested otherwise. He had been reading it all along. He just couldn’t put it into words. What was missing was the vocabulary.

During the lecture for The Invisible Cross of Toronto, audience members connected the research to their own experience of navigating and understanding the city.
During the lecture for The Invisible Cross of Toronto, audience members connected the research to their own experience of navigating and understanding the city. [J. Lu (photographer), 2026]

The Other Cross

At the exposition, an urban designer pointed out another cross: Dundas and Yonge. Dundas, too, belonged to Simcoe’s colonial road-making project. It was planned as a military and settlement corridor running westward from York (today’s Toronto) toward London, the inland capital Simcoe hoped to establish. One road extended north from Toronto; the other reached west across the province. The city eventually built a major crossing on each.

The difference is scale. The Dundas cross operates at the level of street experience: the scramble crossing, the crowds, the concentration of people and activity. You feel it as a pedestrian. That is why Sankofa Square, formerly Yonge-Dundas Square, sits there. The Bloor cross operates at the scale of infrastructure: subway lines, the grid, the orientation system. Yonge, as a colonial meridian, operates at yet another scale: a territorial line once used to organize surveying, settlement, and land division. Two crosses, different scales, and beneath both, the same vertical arm.

The title panel of Decoding Toronto, introducing the exposition as a way to read the hidden stories behind the city.
The title panel of Decoding Toronto, introducing the exposition as a way to read the hidden stories behind the city. [P. Wen (photographer), 2026]

A Mirror

At the exposition, strangers stopped and read. Not skimmed. They bent over figure-ground maps, read story cards about how soil from the Bloor subway tunnel was used to fill Garrison Creek’s ravine, and how Spadina’s name comes from the Ojibwe word for a sudden rise of land. The cross became visible through accumulation: panel by panel, story by story, the same way the cross itself was built.

Wen came to Toronto in 2015 as a newcomer and learned to navigate by Yonge and Bloor before she understood why those two lines organize everything. The research started as an investigation into a hidden structure. At TaiwanFest, the audience suggested that this experience was not only hers. Visitors did not need to know about the Park Lots, Simcoe’s roads, or the history of the subway to use the cross. They already understood where they were in relation to it.

The cross was never hidden. They were already reading.

The Invisible Cross of Toronto was presented at Toronto TAIWANfest 2026, Harbourfront Centre. The four-part series is available on Decoding Toronto.

Further Reading

Support
TORONTO SPARK

Be the spark that fuels change and empowers artists – your donation lights the way to a brighter, more inclusive artistic future with Toronto Spark.

Picture of Paige Wen

Paige Wen

Paige Wen is a Toronto-based architect and urban researcher, and the founder of Unfolding Works. A licensed architect in Ontario (OAA) with a PhD in Architecture and Urbanism from KU Leuven, Belgium, her work focuses on understanding how cities are formed: how historical decisions, planning systems, and everyday infrastructures shape urban space. She is a contributor to Decoding Toronto and has previously written on architecture and design for magazines in Taiwan and China.

Share this article

Toronto Spark

Arts for Canadians Tomorrow Society created Toronto Spark to foster greater appreciation for underrepresented artistic communities. A rising tide of understanding lifts all of us.

Arts for Canadians Tomorrow Society is grateful to be held on the traditional, ancestral, and unceded territories of many nations, including the Mississaugas of the Credit, the Anishnabeg, the Chippewa, the Haudenosaunee and the Wendat peoples, that is now home to many diverse First Nations, Inuit and Métis peoples. We acknowledge our privilege to be gathered on this land, and commit to work with and be respectful to the Indigenous peoples whose arts and stories inspire us to bring communities together.