‘I came. I saw. I conquered. I evaporated. I rose from the ashes, dot-dot-dot, again. Or once again.’
Legendary Canadian figure skater Toller Cranston, shown in this July 6, 1979 file photo, has died. He was also an avid artist and his work was exhibited in galleries and museums around the world. He was 65. THE CANADIAN PRESS/stf
James Deacon spoke to Toller Cranston in 2004 when this article first appeared. Cranston died Saturday in Mexico.
These days, Toller Cranston is a painter living in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. But this week, the 54-year-old Hamilton native, who also has a home in Toronto, will be honoured for his first career when he is inducted into the World Figure Skating Hall of Fame. The ceremony, being held in Dortmund, Germany, during the March 22-28 World Figure Skating Championships, belatedly acknowledges one of the sport’s true innovators. Cranston never won Olympic gold or World titles, but he was a free-spirited, free-skating genius who pushed the stodgy old sport in a radically different direction. After retiring from competition, he worked as a judge and TV analyst, occasionally running afoul of skaters and TV execs for his biting candour.
I took it upon myself — naively, and then paid the price — to impart all the knowledge that I had. I always really tried to say it exactly the way it was, which would be like a politician doing that. And you know what happens if they do.
There was this professional event in Edmonton where they had former Olympic champions skating against one another, and the winner got $250,000. And the loser, I think, got $150,000 or something. On that particular night, Kristi Yamaguchi did every triple in the book and skated without flaw. Katarina Witt, in the technical portion of the program, was just lousy. As a judge — and I was the only one who did it — I had to differentiate between the flawlessness and virtuosity of Yamaguchi, who did everything, and Katarina, who did nothing. So I gave Katarina Witt like a 9.2 and Yamaguchi a 10, which is a big difference. Well, Katarina had a fit. Like, “Oh, I can’t believe that Toller did that! Oh, he’s a friend of mine! How?” Well, I’m not sanctimonious about those things, but I do think that for any sport to go forward — in coaching or judging or performing — you have to be honest, you know?
This 16th-century town — I should be on the chamber of commerce — has flawless weather all year, tons of interesting people and a certain extravagance of architecture. We are in properties that have great walls around them — in San Miguel, people don’t drop in on each other, never. So I can remove myself from anything social, which is much easier than in Toronto. And I can put in the hours in the studio that I used to put into skating, because I still have that hunger for discipline.
Well, no. The history of art and the history of artists in books and literature, that would be my inspiration. Last year I was in Italy twice, and you sort of go and do the Florence thing and the Venetian thing and the Roman thing. That’s what turns me on. And no, I do not go to the Art Gallery of Ontario to devour the Group of Seven. I’m not knocking it, exactly, but let’s face it, Lawren Harris was not Fra Angelico.
Yes, but then maybe it’s life, it’s hills and valleys. You know, there are rich times, and then lean times.
Yeah, totally. You journalists are very polite about the fact that we have run dry in the women’s event. I mean, keep in mind we had Barbara Ann Scott and Petra Burka and Karen Magnussen and Lynn Nightingale and Josée Chouinard — we always had somebody. Now? I do think [on the men’s side] Emanuel Sandhu can be an excellent skater.
Yes. There has to be a sense of refinement, because in the big picture, figure skating should be — but isn’t — a mixture of art and sport. Kurt Browning doing Bogey at the 1993 world championships. That’s what it’s supposed to be. That was the perfect combination, the perfect equation.
If that question had been asked years ago, I might have cited an event. Now, when I think about it, my accomplishment in skating was about being creative in a virgin sport. That’s what I’m known for. It was never the medals that I won. I was really a thorn in the side of the establishment. It wasn’t easy, and I think youth and ignorance propelled me, because somebody else would have given up. I was madly tenacious.
There was this one place where I did, like, 11 encores. They told me I was an instrument of the West that inspired freedom, freedom of individuality and freedom of expression. I just was the right thing for the audience at that time.
What was the most unusual event you ever skated at?
I was asked to go to Ottawa to skate at the Minto Skating Club. The building had been taken over, and it was just prime minister Trudeau and his wife, and King Hussein and his third wife, and I was the show. I was the entertainer for the king. So maybe on another level, what I’m most proud of is that I had such a textured career.
I think I had a total crash around 43. I got tired of trying to maintain both careers at the same time. Unlike every other skater post-me, I paid for my own career. I didn’t have the government or sponsors or parents, I did it myself. I could do it because of the painting.
I dream about it every night. It’s high anxiety. Last night, for instance, I was back in competition and doing well, but my skates were too loose, like bedroom slippers. I was totally nervous about doing triple jumps.
I was so known as a free skater and, if they had not had the school figures when I competed [they were eliminated as part of the sport in 1991], I would have been the world champion three times, just with the marks that were given. I mean, it’s all part of skating history.
I want this quoted exactly. I should really say it in Latin but I can’t. I came. I saw. I conquered. I evaporated. I rose from the ashes, dot-dot-dot, again. Or once again. And actually, that is rather accurate.