Fifty-six years ago today, Expo 67 closed its gates. I feel nostalgic about it, even though I wasn’t born until the next year.
For my birthday, I bought myself this little Expo 67 “ornamold” souvenir tray. Why does this long-past event capture my imagination so much?
In a word, it’s hope. The fair represented a vision of the future that worked, that included everybody, that was fun — and all of it was wrapped up in the best Mid-Century Modern architecture and design the world could offer.
Was it perfect? Hardly: There were cultural gaffes (the “Indians of Canada” pavilion was designed by white people, although it did showcase some potent statements on colonialism by indigenous artists) and there were questionable shortcuts in its construction (16,000 kilograms of the toxic pesticide dichlorodiphenyldichloroethane were dumped into the St. Lawrence River to make sure there’d be no pesky ‘shadflies’ that summer).
Still, wouldn’t it be nice to go to an all-encompassing event like this… and believe it?
Several cultural critics have said a variation on, “It’s easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of late-stage capitalism.” I’m not here to argue about socioeconomic theory, I just pine for the kind of hopeful vision of the future that Expo 67 represented.
What are you nostalgic about? Or, stated differently, if there were an world exposition today about a better future, what would you like it to show?