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CTV News
a day ago
- Business
- CTV News
‘Well over six figures': How this Toronto man built a career touring the GTA on camera
Jonathan Hicks better known as "Johnny Strides" is pictured alongside the TORONTO sign by Nathan Phillips Square (Left: Youtube/JohnnyStrides. Right: THE CANADIAN PRESS/Evan Buhler) Jonathan Hicks spends his days walking Toronto streets with a camera. In just six years, he says the work has made him 'well over six figures,' turning a side hustle into a full-time job. The 44-year-old, better known online as Johnny Strides, has built a YouTube channel with over 136,000 subscribers and more than 46 million views, filming daily walking tours throughout the city. His success comes as Toronto's labour market grows more precarious, with some residents turning to unconventional work to supplement traditional jobs. The challenge is even sharper for young people as Ontario's unemployment rate for those aged 15 to 24 recently reached 15.8 per cent in June — roughly double the province's overall rate. 'I was working in insurance... doing a global program underwriting (for) big multinational companies,' Hicks said. 'Just before the pandemic hit, I got recruited by another company to do the same job, basically more money, more vacation — and my YouTube channel was just getting monetized.' He says it wasn't long before that new job quickly turned sour. 'I switched jobs and the new job was basically horrible. I went from a great company working there for five years, to an absolute dumpster fire,' he said. 'At that same time the pandemic hit, my views were going up and I remember one month I made $1,500 just doing it part time.' Looking back, he says 'it was just the perfect storm' to pursue this career full time. An unconventional career switch Hicks launched Johnny Strides in 2018 after buying a GoPro. He says early timelapse videos showing the city gave way to narrated walking tours, often running 30 to 45 minutes. 'I focus mainly on walking, cycling, transit videos and livestreams in the city,' Hicks wrote to his YouTube page. 'There's no shortage of content as I record in all weather conditions... morning, day and night.' He says his income from YouTube now far exceeds what he made in insurance but still admits 'Toronto is stupidly expensive.' 'I do have a rent control apartment, so I consider myself kind of lucky that I'm paying $1,100 a month,' he said. 'In terms of the risk management going full time on YouTube, it wasn't that difficult of a decision... because it's a pretty modest rent.' In Toronto, the average household income sits at $129,000, according to Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation data. While some creators may not earn as much as much as Hicks, experts say many still put in countless hours to support their entrepreneurial gig. A Statistics Canada survey found that most content creators reported being 'de facto entrepreneurs.' While Hicks says he sometimes works 16-hour days, the survey reveals that on average, respondents spend 15.5 hours per week. Walking through snowstorms and burnout The job doesn't just come with ups but also its fair share of challenges. Hicks recalls filming in a blizzard from Yonge and Eglinton to Dufferin, when his waterproof boots failed. 'My feet were just frozen and soaking… it was way below zero,' he said. 'It looks like a disaster zone. Yet I had thousands of viewers tuned in at once. So there was something exhilarating about it at the same time.' It's those exhilarating moments that Jenna Jacobson, a professor at Toronto Metropolitan University says form 'parasocial relationships' with viewers. 'Those videos that are more real, raw and relatable are the ones that often will garner more attention... because it connects to people' she said. She explains that the flipside of that relationship is oftentimes burnout. 'Burnout is very real amongst content creators because there is this constant pressure to be on,' she said. 'Content creators are constantly having to labor at figuring out the best practices to improve their audience engagement. Hicks too acknowledges that it can be difficult to create fresh content. 'I don't want to repackage the same thing over and over again,' he said. 'The good thing is we have four seasons... (and) there's always changes being made.' In his most popular video, he garnered over 2.3 million views featuring a walk with the creator of Tiny Tiny homes Toronto, Ryan Donais. In that instance, both Hicks and Donais walked from the St Lawrence Market over to Yonge and Front Street to preview an early version of the tiny home prototype. 'Enough to keep going' The rise of creators like Hicks mirrors a larger shift in how Torontonians are earning a living. 'The job market is particularly tough right now… unemployment has been increasing in Canada, broadly,' said Obeid Ur Rehman, assistant professor of economics at Toronto Metropolitan University. 'This side hustle sort of concept is very prominent. Having something that's unconventional, that you have some flexibility over is increasing.' Rehman notes that while the work can be rewarding, it comes with risks. 'The platforms and the algorithm — trends change suddenly. As a result, income can decline very suddenly,' he said. Hicks says he's aware of the gamble, but for now, he's sticking with YouTube. 'Not having a boss and working for yourself is pretty awesome,' he said. 'I love the community. That in itself is rewarding enough to keep going.'
Globe and Mail
01-07-2025
- General
- Globe and Mail
Spirit Garden at Nathan Phillips Square brings Indigenous presence to Toronto's symbolic core
The turtle rises from the water, poised to move toward the chamber of Toronto City Hall. This six-foot-tall limestone gesture of re-emergence is the centrepiece of the new Spirit Garden at Nathan Phillips Square, which brings an Indigenous presence to the city's ceremonial heart. At the garden's centre sits the Teaching Lodge, a hybrid of longhouse and circular wigwam fashioned from glue-laminated ash. The structure invites local Indigenous communities to gather for ceremony and reflection. 'It represents a cross-cultural approach to Indigenous design,' says Brian Porter of Two Row Architect. 'How can one structure represent the traditions of peoples from across the continent?' That is the ambition of this project, first imagined in 2019 as a memorial to victims of residential schools. The final result asserts an Indigenous presence at the geographic and symbolic centre of the city. After the Truth and Reconciliation Commission's report in 2015, the Toronto Council Fire Native Cultural Centre and city officials began working on a memorial. This evolved into the nearly 30,000-square-foot garden, designed by a team including Gow Hastings Architects and the Indigenous-led studio Two Row. Gow Hastings Architects helped shape the project's architecture and public realm (including the complex technical challenge of repairing the surface of the square, which tops a massive parking garage). Anishinaabe-Red River Métis artist Tannis Nielsen sculpted a Métis canoe of stainless steel, marked with intricately cut and etched decorations. An Inukshuk built by Henry Angootinmarik Kudluk includes rock marked with orange lichen – a nod to the orange shirts commemorating National Day for Truth and Reconciliation. Then there is the turtle, a memorial object carved from limestone by Anishinaabe artist Solomon King. It rises from a reflecting pond, alongside a wall etched with the names of the 18 residential schools in Ontario. All this is oriented to cardinal north, and therefore at a 12-degree angle to the grid of Toronto's streets and of the square. This subtle misalignment reinforces the garden's distinct identity and connection to Indigenous cosmology. Coast Salish art is in demand and transforming Vancouver's public art sphere The landscape and buildings reveal some common threads across Indigenous cultures, including what Mr. Porter describes as a 'craftful approach' to materials. 'People have always taken materials and used them in the most efficient way, achieving the best ratio of strength to material,' he explains. 'Whether it's a longhouse, snowshoe, canoe or wigwam, the design balances resourcefulness with function.' This philosophy guided Mr. Porter and his colleagues to select materials and details that might usually be dismissed by municipal project managers as too unconventional or expensive. The exterior cladding and landscape signage use Muntz metal – a copper-zinc alloy that shimmers like bronze. The lodge's front door is solid oak, evoking the solid wood door handles at the nearby City Hall by the Finnish architect Viljo Revell. The material choice is not just symbolism – it's texture and mass, the kind of door that tells you someone cared enough to build for the next seven generations. The sky is the limit for Vancouver restaurant owner bringing Indigenous cuisine to YVR Mr. Porter credits city project manager Ikwal Brianna and Council Fire's Theo Nazary for keeping the vision intact. But the square also has a fraught history, which the garden helps to heal. Once this was St. John's Ward, Toronto's most diverse and densely populated neighbourhood. Many of its residents and buildings were cleared in the 1950s to make way for civic buildings. But Mr. Revell's design for a civic living room was never fully implemented. For years, this corner of Nathan Phillips Square was a patch of bare gravel, a symbol of stalled ambition and forgotten promises. The Spirit Garden alters that narrative. It demonstrates that when Indigenous voices lead, and when design is backed by the kind of serious effort and funding that public projects so rarely receive, public spaces can become powerful places of memory, meaning and belonging.
