Vanity Ballroom Chandelier, 2012

Philip Jarmain grew up near London, Ontario, with part of his childhood spent in Switzerland and Ireland. There were also many family trips to Mexico. His mother is a textile artist and fathers an entrepreneur. A childhood love of storytelling led to early fascination with film, photography and cameras. dShort dramas shot with an 8 mm wind-up camera were a passion. Later, his training was in film (Vancouver Film School), and for some years he worked in lighting for feature films and episodic television, and after that as stills photographer for film.

While establishing himself as a full time artist in photography, Jarmain supports himself as a commercial photographer specializing in conceptual advertising, based in Vancouver, where he lives, and Toronto. In this area he is a recipient of multiple Lürzers Archive and Communication Arts awards as well as other international honors.

Once an exotic oasis for ballroom dancers, the Vanity Ballroom is more like an ancient tomb that could be featured on Indiana Jones.

Originally opening in 1928, the Charles N. Agree designed ballroom was packed with art deco stepped arches, all faded with plaster panels mimicking an Aztec temple. The ballroom, located on the entire second floor, was 5,600 square feet of maple wood on top of a spring loaded floor, said to reduce fatigue). At its height over 1,000 dancers showed up, and alcohol was prohibited for its entire tenure. It did have soda fountains to keep patrons from going thirsty, however.

Culture changed and so did the interest in dancing, and by 1958 the Vanity fell out of interest, no more were big band and ballrooms the rage. Used sparingly for the next 20 years, including rock bands in 1971, two brothers bought the building in 1980 for a mere $200,000, and cleaned up the now abandoned building. Reopening in 1983, it was short lived and failed. The last time it was used was in 1987 for a party.

Since the time, the building, on the National Register of Historic Places has sat abandoned, the roof slowly opening up to nature. Largely spared by vandals and scrappers, the building would remain wide open by the late 2000s, and quickly relieve of radiator grills, railings and chandeliers. Taggers have tagged the walls, including the hand painted stage wall.