A Grassroots Fest Grows Up

Toronto at January’s tail end is known well, by residents, for its wind tunnels, frigid cold and crusted-over snowbanks that are impenetrable to shovel or boot and a suspect shade of brown-grey.

Not the happiest time of year to get spiffy and take to the streets to check out some experimental design shows. But year after year, a steadily growing mass of people—from within the design industry and outside of it—have done just that. DesignTO, a 10-day festival, Canada’s largest celebration of design, has been the warming flame beckoning a community of creatives, aficionados and admirers out of deep hibernation.

“As much as January in the city sucks, it really gets people out of their warm homes into a cold city—but then back into warm spaces for events,” says Michael Madjus, DesignTO’s director of marketing.

DesignTO, née the Toronto Design Offsite Festival, turns 15 this year. “We’re entering the teen years,” says Madjus. “A little rebellious, pushing boundaries where we can.” But then, the non-profit arts and culture organization behind the fest has always been pulling or pushing at the definition of design—and even the idea of what a festival can be.

“I think we’ve been quite adaptive,” says Deborah Wang, DesignTO’s artistic director and a co-founder of the event, which launched in 2011 as seven exhibitions in Toronto’s west end. In 2025, the “festival without a venue,” as Wang calls it, will extend from Richmond Hill Public Library to displays at Yonge-Dundas (soon to be Sankofa) Square and in the city’s busiest transit hub, Union Station.

And what might you see at DesignTO? Browsing the archive of previous years hosted on the festival’s website, designto.org (where you can also find the 2025 fest schedule), you’ll find that the exhibitions and installations range broadly, from a symposium on waste management (Trash Talk, 2023) to a sculptural installation of 100 found chairs stacked precipitously (At what point does irrational thought become rational?, 2024).

That kind of variety is encoded in the festival’s artistic guidelines, and Wang sees it as something that’s been there from the beginning. “I think the structure of the festival and the way we plan it allows for a kind of fluidity, an openness to experimentation, and what I call our very stretchy definition of design.”

Organizing it is a months-long process for the small executive team, which includes Wang, Madjus, head of programming Robyn Wilcox and executive director Jeremy Vandermeij. “Once a festival ends, we are planning the next one,” says Wang. That involves building relationships with venues, media and financial partners and organizing calls for participation. Madjus helps develop the unique look and feel each year. For 2025, they worked with design studio aftermodern.lab and two coding illustrators, OCAD University grads, who produced generative artwork for the festival’s visual identity.

Come January, they’ll be joined by a large team of volunteers who help the events and exhibitions run smoothly, in spaces across Toronto proper and beyond—and not just white-cube galleries (see: public libraries and storefronts). That’s because while design can be art, it is also essential and functional, affecting all our lives. Madjus sees DesignTO as a festival for everyone. “There was a time when it felt like we were very much by designers for designers, but we reached a tipping point, and a new audience: the general public.”

Since 2011, the annual fest has drawn nearly one million visitors and showcased more than 6,500 designers and creators.

“I’m not a bigger-equals-better kind of person,” says Wang, when asked about her aspirations for future growth. “You reach a natural point, a size that fits the city you’re in, the condition and culture.” And with more than 100 exhibitions and events happening from January 24 to February 2, the team has their hands full. Says Wang, “You can’t get bored.”