Janine Debanné
I learned with great sadness that Alistair Ross is no longer on this earth with us. He was a great architect and a remarkable person, and someone to whom I owe so much: my life's path in fact. From childhood, I had the good fortune of growing up in the house next door to the one he had designed for his family. His daughter Nadia became my best friend. He told ghost stories to the neighbourhood children around bonfires, always had a kind word and the warmest of welcomes, was generous with guidance and with humour. He complimented my drawing hand since early childhood and encouraged me to study architecture, which I did. He employed me in his office on Queen Street during summers when I was a student. There are so many things I will remember about Alistair, but the memory of him on his barber chair up at the window in the long narrow Queen Street office is etched in my heart, as is the memory of washing his radiograph pens: he favoured "number 4's" which made big wide black lines. There was nothing tentative about those lines. His buildings designs were smart, simply elegant, unfussy and solid; he loved brick. He took time for music and to paint. He was good to people. That was Alistair Ross. Late in his life, even with his illness, his light, spark, and humour shone through. A few years ago, when he was loosing his memory, I took him for a drive to see all his buildings in downtown Ottawa: the Juliana, the Barrister House, the Tomkins housing, the Sussex and the Boteler apartments, and, admitting his forgetfulness about these projects and remarking on how much Ottawa had grown, he looked joyful to see his work. Alistair, you will be dearly missed and always remembered.
Sunday February 16, 2020 at 9:57 am