0115 2014
ART, MUSIC, FASHION & CRAFTS
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photography feature Christopher Robinson is a Toronto-based photographer. His digital photographs capture people, objects and environments that rest on the border between hyperreal and surreal, creating a dreamlike quality. His photographs are distinguished by a clean, almost illustrative aesthetic. We wanted to move beyond analogue photography for our craft and DIY issue to less conventional and more contemporary processes; Chris’ photos embody a new method of DIY through creative insight and technological means. All photographs in this issue belong to Chris, unless otherwise stated.
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CONTENTS
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photo feature: christopher robinson letter from the editors
city canvas; concrete media by afton chadwick water for all by anthony maria fashion feature: caitlin mcmahon junc boxing by viktoria hynynen are you an anti-digitite? by timothy morrison
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art feature: rosalyn faustino 3D paper ball ornament by krystina plante comic: gimme death by tristan douglas tinsel and sawdust by chelsea la vecchia gallery review: toronto hyperbolic coral reef decorum by jenna vanderende music feature: union duke literature feature: tara bursey
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editors’ editor’s notes note
from the editors Arts and crafts have more recently been popularized by paper-doll-plagued Pinterest. However, the subculture of D.I.Y. – and yes, it certainly is a subculture – have attributes which go much deeper than this. In fact, the perfectly crafted constructs we see being snapped and shared all over the web have been prefaced by a much more irreverent and limitless approach. And where we more associate this concept to the medium of cute crafting, the do-ityourself spirit is embodied across all types of artistic forms such as music, fashion, venues, tattooing… you get the point. Within this subculture exists ideologies of punk and anti-political ethos; what occurs as a result are creations of self-expression through less-thanconventional means. In this issue, we have explored arts and crafts as they appear across a multiplicity of genres, celebrating artistic communities whose values are rooted within each step towards the finished product. Until next time... Lindsey xx
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The further we advance with technology and digital methods of creation, the more we seem to idealize traditional handicraft. The more we move in the direction of uniform, streamlined and massproduced, the more we long for the imperfect quality of handmade, crafted, do-it-yourself creations. But a question that we seem to keep returning to is whether these two methods are mutually exclusive: is the mechanically produced a binary opposite to craft? To suggest that might be somewhat reductive, especially in our contemporary moment. I don’t want to say that we’re experiencing a return to craft because craft hasn’t gone anywhere – but I’m beginning to perceive a new value for the handmade. At the same time, and especially in the arts, I’m beginning to notice artists and artisans adapting technological methods for traditional practices to give them new life. So for issue07, we are definitely celebrating the art and the beauty of craft as well as the spirit of DIY, but we are also exploring new channels of these forms that emerge through contemporaneous mechanized influences. Enjoy! Erika
contributor
CITY CANVAS ; CONCRETE MEDIA by: afton chadwick Graffiti has always fascinated me. Growing up with several graffiti artists, their tenacious attempts at bombing Toronto buildings and railway cars was intoxicating and thrilling. Never having the artistic abilities myself, I have taken to photography and exploration to satisfy my inner artist. This photo series was taken mostly in Toronto’s West End. 158 Sterling Road in The Junction is featured in several photos. The rest were taken along the railway tracks and in Toronto alleyways in the West End. There are also two photos from a neighboring city, which hosts a thriving graffiti scene and were worth including. For anyone who similarly enjoys the graffiti culture as I do, I suggest taking a friend and embarking on your own adventure of this city’s abandoned buildings, railways, and alleys to find your own hidden masterpieces. The majority of the graffiti in these photos are throw-ups and a few murals but there are many pieces of more complex art and commissioned work in the city as well.
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submissions
Water For All By: Anthony Henry Joseph Maria
“What?” she says with her head on a swivel. “Nothing,” she shrugs and laments that I’m simple.
Lounging in the swimming pool, warm water cradling me, basking in the glowing sun, we splash and innocently play. A gentle breeze and the sound of Verdi’s Requiem Mass. The smell of fresh chlorine and my mother’s laughing gaze, together as a family, Dad exuberantly saying aqua per tutti, aqua per tutti…
“So,” she wraps her arms around me after we enter the VIP. She must feel me pressing into her thigh, if not for the blow, one naked thrust and I’d probably come inside. The music is still thumping and I begin to envy all the sweat-soaked twenty something’s dancing with reckless abandon. Drunk off the lust of drug induced motives, longing to be saved, resigned to have someone to go home with.
“It smells like rotting flesh,” the line outside club Mint. She doesn’t appear composed or wanting to be here.
“You think you could get my friends in?” I turn to mush, my ego castrated, and my suspicions confirmed.
“That kid died there in the street,” now she really wants to leave. I try to take her hand but she pulls away.
“Can you get my Benz in the club? If not, treat your friends like my Benz, park their ass outside til the evening ends,” Kanye in amplified aggression. I pretend to ignore her requests, but she can tell and frowns, pseudo depression sets in.
“You look sexy,” but she doesn’t hear me…too focused on the wait. “I thought you said you knew someone,” I do, this isn’t going as planned. “I’ve wanted you since the first day we met,” but I don’t have the balls to say it. “Is that Phil Kessel?” It bothers me that it is. The lights of the Casino shine in the night and I watch them circle and spit on the dark cement. This insatiable craving for her feels like a cancer growing inside of me. It’s spreading beyond reach without a chance for remission. She doesn’t know me from Adam; the thought of it crushes my intent. Fear slowly takes over and makes me a feeble, pathetic, stuttering little man. “We’re good, let’s go to the front,” her silhouette in that sexy tight dress sends me straight to nirvana. The decomposing human flesh seething in the humid River air, peers at us with envy, or perhaps some inner violence. “Look at me, look at me, how much vanity you see?” Wale, bumping in the club, thunderous beats and bodies, shaking in medicated heat. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted,” but it’s too loud for her to hear me, and she just smiles, and hugs my arm. It’s less than everything I desire, but more than I had yesterday. “We should get a drink,” I point her towards the bar. “What would you like?” “Whatever…something sweet.” Red liquid, a wink from the bartender, her smile in return. I’m reeling again, but trying to hide it, doubting every thought and word. “You could be using me and I wouldn’t even fret. But later, I’d drink myself into oblivious discontent.”
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“Let’s get fucked up tonight,” and make some mistakes. “Isn’t that Jim Carey?” she says to save face. I want to dance but lacking the courage and sitting on couches soaked with urine, this isn’t going well, thinking of the right thing to say, and she’s making bedroom eyes at some black dude, whom I’ve had before. “Have you ever fucked a guy?” with an unfiltered smile upon my face, am I that translucent? We all sleep around, everybody’s doing it. “Actually I have,” it’s awkward to say. “I thought so, I mean I heard,” her hand moves up my leg. “What about you, ever been with a girl?” her female scent floods my veins. “I wanted to try it,” we could try it today… “But it just never happened, I always…” I run my finger down her neck, and across her clavicle. I’m in a trance just staring at her lubricious breasts while she explains away. “I swear,” she says between sloppy kisses. “It smells like decaying flesh in here.” “And tonight,” I say with my finger inside her. “Luca Brasi sleeps with the fishes…” “So you fucked her,” a father shouldn’t be so informal, peering out the office window, the club raging below us. “To begin with…” hoping he’ll drop the inquest. “Does this mean you’re back into girls?” I never should have mentioned. “I guess.” It’s not an easy question. “What does that mean?” It smells like burnt bacon. “I don’t know.” I could really use that liquid daring.
“Well help me out, I just want to understand.” I never felt like you cared before, so why now? “I’m attracted to lots of people, some happen to be girls and other guys,” I hope the drinks get here soon. “Your generation,” shaking his head, he lets the thought die there. I think of Mike & The Mechanics, playing in the car so many years ago, “Every generation, blames the one before, and all of their frustrations, come beating on your door. I know that I’m a prisoner, to all my father held so dear, I know that I’m a hostage, to all his hopes and fears.” “So what’s new with you?” I won’t say it loud or clear. “I’m getting another divorce,” checking his platinum watch, sans emotion or concern. “Oh,” it was hard the first time, but now they just disappear. “It wasn’t working out, Russian women can be stubborn,” by that you mean she was opposed to being your puppet?
I follow the nurse to the desk, her taut skin marked by attrition. Being here every morning I’ve come to understand her affliction. Caring for souls at the end of their time has a way of rotting you from the inside. “I hate the smell in here,” nothing hides the scent of putrid flesh. “I know, it’s the ammonia,” she says but that’s not what I meant. “Your father’s stable but...” her vacant green eyes tell the story. “We moved him to room twenty four forty.” Just down the hallway. Arriving at the door, confronted by the future, a dreadful sound emanates from a terror stricken entity…a panicked, struggling, animalistic moaning. Pushing it clear, there in the darkness, like a beetle on its back, my crippled, fading father. He’s writhing naked on the floor immersed in his own fecal matter.
“I’m with a new girl, she works at the firm,” of course you are, always the first to recover.
Here I am frozen, terrified, and completely overwhelmed until some rudimentary instinct kicks in, through the open windows, like the dawn…
The server arrives with our drinks, Vodka cran, and Single Malt. I ask her for a shot of espresso.
Tears fill my eyes as I lift him to the shower.
“Does this look like a damn Starbucks,” her livid glare suddenly crystal clear.
His loose skinned body madly shudders. Wash the pain away, but there’s nowhere for it to go.
“I didn’t recognize you,” but of course he did. “It’s been so long, how are you, I’ve been so busy.” Does he think he sounds sincere?
“Aqua per tutti,” he’s repeats like a broken record.
“Is that all,” apparently there will be no re-acquaintance.
“Aqua per tutti,” still in repetition.
“Yes dear, I’ll have another one.” I watch him slap her on the butt; it makes me want to vomit.
Sitting on my lap hugging him close.
“We shared an interesting experience.” Yeah I bet it was really heartfelt. “Anyway, Dad, why did you want to meet?” as I follow her descending motion, wearing the smear of defeat plastered on her forehead. Sometimes hardcore feelings dissolve instantaneously; we are not the masters of our emotions.
His cold dead eyes seem to look into oblivion.
I wish I would have told you. ”Aqua per tutti...” In the living years. “Aqua per tutti…” But I couldn’t remember I loved you.
“You don’t have anything to say?” clearly I wasn’t paying mind.
“Aqua per tutti…”
“About what?” It’s not like you ever say things worth my fucking time.
Until the end was here…
“Do you need your ears cleaned? I said the cancer is back, it’s spreading…” my hands are shaking, as spiders fall from the ceiling.
“It smells like rotting flesh,” the line outside club Mint. I stare into obscurity inner demons twist, and turn. “Isn’t this where that kid got killed?” He expired right there in the street.
“This glass has a worm in it,” then a vacuum floods the air…
“My dad was the owner, until he passed away.”
“I’m afraid he took a turn for the worst,” but I was here yesterday.
“Do I know you?” she says confused…maybe once, in another life.
“We had to move him to another room,” to end his suffering?
“I’m sorry about your father,” forget it; he wasn’t worth the time…
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fashion feature
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CAITLIN MCMAHON Attending the City of Craft show in December, I was immediately drawn to the Rightful Owner display. What I saw was an assortment of the most beautiful headpieces; where they were diverse in shape and colour palettes, each beautifully boasted a consistent and delicate femininty. What is more is that these creations are not to be taken at just face value, as they are a true depiction of the artist who creates them. Caitlin’s work aims to incorporate and celebrate women as they come in all forms holding the potential to allow us to identify who we are; they allow us to outwardly proclaim our selves. (lindsey omelon) LO: So what first inspired you to create Rightful Owner? CM: Well, two summers ago I went to go visit my mother’s best friend’s house in the countryside. She is an amazing watercolour artist and has this beautiful house and everything is white. I had just broken up with my boyfriend – it was a big break and I was going through a bit of an identity crisis. And she had this one painting above her kitchen sink and it was this woman with big, red lips and three red roses on either side of her face. I just looked at her and I thought “Okay, that’s me. That’s who I want to be.” But after the visit, I just went home and made the headpiece. Headpieces are in style now, for sure. But I didn’t really feel like I was seeing any that really pushed it to the next level; flowers in your hair is fine, but I want, like, flowers. So I made them, then I went to George Brown for millinery to make more elaborate pieces. To have them be functional and elaborate there is surely some technical skill involved. LO: So this truly is a labour of love for you. Rightful Owner is more than just a business, but has also been a bit of a journey in finding yourself, and healing. CM: For sure, for sure. I mean, I have always wanted to have my own business. But I just thought it’d be different. I am a seamstress. I worked for a small fashion label in London called Neti Neue and she makes all of her clothes in-house and sells them online. So I thought that I would want to do something more like that. But, no. It’s headpieces. LO: So, like you’ve said, it is a very intricate process. Could you describe your process? I know you might not want to give it all away – but that’s assuming that anyone could actually mimic your elaborate works! CM: I first paint the leaves myself. I buy the flowers – they are all silk. And basically, I have an idea of the silhouette in my mind. Then I hand stitch all of the flowers and the leaves on. And I really play with the composition. As soon as you
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glue, it’s permanent. But if you sew them, you can unstitch them. So it’s like making a collage, or a painting. I just layer it and if I don’t like something, I take it away, I’ll add something new; I build on it. And by sewing the flowers, it allows for more movement in the headpieces. And I constantly make all of my headpieces in front of a mirror. I think that’s really important to see how the flowers and the leaves are oriented around a woman’s face. LO: Very interesting how Rightful Owner was started up to allow you to find your identity. So you’re essentially then assisting your customers with finding theirs. CM: I do think they are a symbol of the type of woman you are. My company is based on different female archetypes; each piece is a different female archetypes. There’s a queen, a goddess, or a fairy, a warrior. And I think that when you put that crown on, you become that woman; I feel like each piece is a celebration and a proclamation of what it is to be a woman LO: Do you find that when you are doing custom work that it is more challenging to create this way? There is a lot of you in your work – your personality, what you are feeling – that I wonder if it becomes difficult when you are given these boundaries. CM: Going forward, my custom work will be custom work with boundaries that I have set. Such as colour palettes and silhouettes. So the website in the future, the custom section, you will get to choose the silhouette of crown, a choice of a set of colour palettes, and then the rest is for me to create. LO: Are headpieces are restricted to a season? When most think headpiece, or more specifically, flower crowns, they think music festivals, summer. So, how can you wear these in the winter? CM: Well, for me, I am definitely a seasonal dresser, but
I definitely think that flowers in winter are for sure a go. I just think they have to be a specific type of flower. I think a lot of that has to do with the colour palette. In the winter, I become Russian-Ukrainian doll. And then in spring, you have more ethereal options: fairies, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Botticelli. But I love, love roses in the winter. LO: I saw one of your most recent posts up on your blog and you are wearing a rose headpiece and you are out in the snow, and it all very beautiful and magical. CM: Yeah! That was actually during the ice storm. I felt kind of bad because I didn’t experience any power outages or anything like that, so I just loved the ice storm. And I have this desire to document everything beautiful. So I went out the day of the storm by myself with a tripod. LO: You’ve dropped A Midsummer Night’s Dream, but you also say you are inspired by the seasons. So is it just your surroundings in general? CM: Yeah, for sure. I am an Art History major and I studied portraiture a lot. So I think I am very inspired by paintings; they are probably my main source. I love Picasso’s colour palettes, Frieda’s. I love paintings of women from the past, so I love Botticelli, but I also love Velázquez. And, oh, I really love Degas’ colours too. So I really go paintings for my inspiration. But I definitely still do draw from everywhere. LO: I saw on your website as well that you had done a collage. And you said earlier that building the crowns is like collage making. Is this a medium you had been invested in before? CM: I’ve always done collage. I paint… I am from an artistic family. The collages bring up ballet, and I love the ballet. So that is an ongoing thing in my headpieces. Oh, and Catholicism. I grew up very catholic, so for the colour palettes and images of Mary inspire me. Even as far as my images go, I think my poses can be kind of Catholic.
There’s a queen, a goddess, or a fairy, a warrior. And I think that when you put that crown on, you become that woman; I feel like each piece is a celebration and a proclamation of what it is to be a woman. LO: How did you learn how to start creating the crowns? CM: It’s just about experimenting, really. And wearing them really helps. It’s a lot of trial and error. I think my sewing skills really came in handy. Also, my mother was a sculptor, which I think is very translatable to what this is. LO: I feel like every kid has a craft that, you know, they are so proud of. And for years beyond that can recall that sense of pride. What was yours?
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CM: There was one watercolour painting I did as a child of a princess that my mom framed. It’s like, really tiny. So that was a big one. But in high school, I made this wire sculpture with hanging rocks everywhere. And I actually made a headpiece last year that was a wire and rock piece. And I didn’t realize it at the time, but my mom was like, “Remember that thing you made in high school? This is like an adult version!” LO: Hmm, quite different from what I recall as a kid. I am pretty sure mine is this handprint turkey. Like you get a paper plate, then the tail is a bunch of cutouts of your hand. So… CM: Ah, one of those! LO: What is the customer generally like? Who is it that wears headpieces? CM: So far all of the pieces have been sold to people living in New York and Brooklyn. And someone with a lifestyle that involves going out to events where you might want to wear a headpiece. Most of my customers have told me that they are wearing them to an event such as the opera or a fashion event. But women of all different ages have purchased them. So that makes me very happy. LO: Which piece so far have you enjoyed creating the most? CM: I think my favourite piece so far was the one from the winter photo shoot that I did with the mint green roses and burgundy. That one – I just loved making that one. I loved how it looked really Catholic. And I loved the gold leaves. That one was a lot of layering, and a lot of work. I really felt that I got to play with the colours in that one. I just sold that one, too. LO: Is it hard parting? CM: Well, my mother told me on Christmas Eve to take it off the Etsy store. She’s like, “that headpiece looks beautiful on you. Take it off of the store!” And then two days later, it sold. LO: Ah, so I guess it is sort of bittersweet. CM: But you have to be able to give them up. It’s just like; I want to know every person that is buying them! I guess that’s just because they are very personal, and I like giving them to women. LO: Are there specific materials you prefer to work with? CM: I definitely only want to work with silk flowers. I think that’s because I am pickier with the dying of it. And I think that silk can mimic the colours of petal more. LO: What do you think is next for Rightful Owner. CM: I would love to have a little shop, where women could come in and talk to me. I love the whole process of them finding the right headpiece. It is just so rewarding.
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contributor
Anyone who knows me well will know how much I adore arts and crafts. I have always had a knack for creations, decorations, and everything in between. So naturally, creating a jewellery line just made a whole lot of sense. My partner in crime (Jeff) actually gets the credit for making Junc Box happen. He started making necklaces last summer, mostly as a hobby. But when he wore his creations, people would literally buy them right off of his neck. Jeff enlisted in my partnership; we went on a quest around Toronto searching for interesting metal ‘things’ we could use or alter to make jewellery. After a lot of trial and error we ended up with a handful of different pieces that we were undeniably proud of. We even came up with some really amazing packaging for the products. Now we are striving to do even more, and I love every single bit of the process. There is just something really distinctly fulfilling about working hard and having an end product to show for it. Not to mention, being able to do it with a friend who loves it just as much as I do… This year I visit Burning man for the first time. In short, Burning Man is a sort of cultural/music/art festival where participants are required to dedicate themselves to the “spirit of community, art, self-expression, and self-reliance”. After a week, everyone takes off and leaves no trace behind them. They say that describing Burning man to someone who has never been is kind of like describing colour to a blind person, so I don’t know what justice my description does to the actual event. But regardless, I left Burning Man with a new sense of appreciation for participation. I really do think that the things I love the most are the things that I have had to work on. And this applies to everything… not just art. It really is the sort of place where you get what you give. And the art… was second to none! Taking the time to appreciate all of the different art forms that people put their time and love into creating just made me feel like I could do anything I put my mind to.
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I was at my office today explaining the process for some Mason jar light fixtures I am making, when one of my older coworkers laughed at me. Apparently when you’re his age and you can afford to buy the same product (and have it installed professionally too), these sorts of projects become less appealing. But I hope with all of my heart that isn’t true. People shouldn’t abandon their imaginations behind when they graduate from grade school. I sure didn’t. It is important to keep your creative side stimulated. However that may be. So the next time you feel like making an impromptu paper mache slug beacon covered in glitter with your friends (or whatever your particular project may be) – just go and do it. You’re never too old for arts and crafts.
JUNC BOXING
Junc Box is an independent design partnership created by Toronto locals Jeff Gingras and Viktoria Hynynen. The duo started their company by repurposing scrap and antique metals in order to create individual, meaningful jewellery. Gingras and Hynynen are currently expanding Junc Box, adding other vintage accessories and furnishings to the roster. Hynynen speaks about the company and the value of DIY:
BY VIKTORIA HYNYNEN
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ARE YOU AN ANTI-DIGITITE? by timothy morrison
You have hands. Hands that shape things, hands that destroy things. Hands that hold things and hands that craft things. You’re able to do amazing things with your hands. But is it the physicality of your hand’s creations that make them real? Is it because you can feel your creation? Wait. Now, what is a feeling? Is it organic? Maybe. Is it a thought of invincibility or complete vulnerability? I don’t know. I know one thing: it’s supposed to be a response to the reality you live in. You yourself are a response to your reality. That mind of yours is comprised of so many little, so many big feelings––all the time. You are a feeling. But, what kind of feeling? That’s determined by your reaction to an external presence. It’s complete subjectivism. It can be destroyed as quickly as it was created. the external presence?] But the power to do so, lies in your hands. It’s kind of like art. Art is supposed to be the embodiment of a feeling. It’s supposed to represent what you were feeling at the second you dropped your pen or paintbrush, or when you washed the clay off your hands. So the bourgeois claim. What about digital media? Sure, the pen may be mightier than the sword, but is it more powerful than a keyboard? I don’t think either has more impact by default. Look, I may be biased because I was born into it, but I think the digital sphere is as important at this very second as the Mona Lisa. (You heard me, Leo.) The legitimacy of digital creation is constantly challenged. ‘It removes the human element,’ you say. ‘It was made by a computer,’ you say. But who made that computer? You did. Well, not you. But your kinsmen did. Think about it. At one point our species was a single-celled organism. There was a point in our history when we lived in caves and croaked by age 30. We made fire, the wheel, and discovered the world. We manipulated electricity, built bombs that could wipe out cities in seconds, and invented computers that are arguably smarter than we are. Don’t exclude digital creation from your categorization of human expression and experience. It’s just an extra appendage that’s plugged into a wall. Social media came out of computers. Criticize its artfulness, but it’s a marvel. We now have the capability of
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connecting the world to our fingertips. It’s pretty incredible. Our complicated, intricate lives are now connected by a technology that most of us don’t know how it works, but it does. And we rely on it. A man was put on the moon with the computing power of a Blackberry. Diseases were cured on a computer. Planets and star systems in places we didn’t know existed were discovered on a computer. Let’s face it, the world as we know it would cease to exist without computers. Even computer-generated images are something to really see. The microscopic accuracies made possible by Adobe alone can paint a more detailed picture than a brush ever could. (This being said by a man who can’t paint.) Art has come a long way. It’s no longer a one-way conversation with the voyeur trying to figure out what they’re looking at. It’s now a two-way conversation between both parties. The creator and the voyeur now have the opportunity to communicate. Sure, you’re not going to pay $1 million to hang a print out of ‘digital painting’ on your wall. But it holds the same level of feeling and emotion that a dusty, old ‘traditional’ painting does. How did we do this, any of this? Yes, with our minds. And yes, with our hands. The physical element of creation is still there, inside a computer. It’s actually one of the most human things on the planet right now.
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I actually talked in a circle, so you’d realize how important your hands are. *** You need to appreciate this. And not only when you’re so stoned out of your mind that you realize your eight fingers and two thumbs are groovy. Go make something. Go break something. Go make love to yourself, but please love your hands. They’re pretty handtastic. Your hands could change the world one day –or end it. It’s your call. Answer it.
rosalyn faustino marcela calderon, psychedelic mayhem
photography by krystina plante
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art feature
ROSALYN FAUSTINO
Rosalyn Faustino is a Calgary-born artist and crafter living and working in Toronto. She works with textiles, weaving, sewing and other traditionally domestic techniques to create gorgeous, vibrant sculptures and installations as well as wearable pieces. The resulting works are adorned with delicate, very intricate linear design and brilliant colour. Rosalyn bridges gaps between the white walls of the gallery and the merchant’s table, interrogating the perceived divide between art and craft. Read more about her below (erika balint):
EB: Please tell us about yourself! RF: I grew up in Calgary, Alberta where I feel most of my laidback attitude and nature inspired designs originates from. I grew up as an adult in Toronto where I was able to discover my love for the practice in the visual arts and particularly my interest in weaving. I always am drawn towards adventure, details, patterns, colour, systems, and design in all things. EB: Have you always been a crafter at heart? Where does this love for craft trace back to, and how did your work come to take the form it currently takes? RF: I always believed that crafting was the method of making things with your hands, in which, I knew I was always surrounded by it. Both my parents were always making things - mother learned domestic crafting like crocheting, knitting, sewing, quilting, when she moved to Newfoundland. My father always worked with his hands by assembling things. Since my sister and I never went to summer camp when were younger, we created our own worlds at home and made video advertisements. I think one of my very first crafting experiences were painting figurines and cross stitching. I remember if I wasn’t reading a book, I would have had a needle in my hand between ballet and piano classes. Since a lot of crafting methods are normally done one-on-one, I think the detailed work, patience, intimate work between the maker and material is what I carry through to my own personal practice. EB: I see the domestic and tradition as recurring themes in your work. How does your work engage with those themes? What positions do you take, and what ideas do you seek to convey through your art? RF: I came to realize that in my fourth year at Sheridan College where I went back to crocheting. A long time ago my mother taught me how to crochet but later rediscovered a beginner crochet box from a local Mary Maxim store. At the time I was working at a beadFX in Scarborough and I thought of crocheting with wire. Wire as thin as a couple pieces of hair. I loved how contrasting it was to use unconventional materials with domestic craft practices. I focused mainly on process and
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eventually embodied myself into the work. EB: Your work employs some very delicate and technical crochet and weaving techniques. Can you talk about the technical process and how the physical form of your work relates to its concepts and subject matter? RF: Truthfully, I just like making things very small. Many mentors encouraged me to make things bigger but it never worked out for me. I normally don’t know that things will end up looking, Trial and error is how it normally goes. The process for me is where it’s most important. I work small because I feel there’s a connection I make with the material. I love it when people look at my work and need to lean in to have a closer look at it. It’s this intimate thing between material/object and person.
I definitely believe that art and craft have a thin line of separation. I believe that they both require making things but it’s about the process and thoughts behind each one that make it different. EB: I see you’ve been a vendor at Toronto’s City of Craft show for several years now. How did you first get involved? How does the Toronto community generally receive the show? RF: I used to intern for the Toronto Craft Alert, where I worked alongside Jen Anisef who introduced me to a craft world i never knew about. I later became a vendor with my friend Caitlyn Murphy and created Cosmic Latte - which was a combination of her lovely illustrations and my wearable art pieces and collaborated designs for totes and sweaters. I’ve been helping out with the City if Craft since then whenever they needed help. City of Craft has been running for 6 years now and it’s my favorite show during the holidays. It has a great vibe supporting local makers. Throughout the years it has only evolved to a larger crowd and has encouraged other people to create similar shows. photography: EB: I believe that for many, “craft” and “art” are indistinct rick indeo // makeup: practices and it is often difficult to differentiate between thediana mejia // model claudia
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bullshit / toile, satin, and thread / photo by rosalyn faustino
RF: I definitely believe that art and craft have a thin line of separation. I believe that they both require making things but it’s about the process and thoughts behind each one that make it different. To me, Art is such an intrinsic process, and Craft is working with traditional techniques. I would like to categorize my work as an artist specializing her craft. To be honest, I don’t really do a lot of craft shows. I do it mainly to promote my practice, motivate myself to create things and to be with other local makers. EB: While some of your work – like the slingshots – are very
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tactile and made for wear and interaction, others – like your panel series – look like they are made specifically for the gallery environment. Do you favour one over the other? For you, what are the merits of both practices? RF: They are both different. I would love to be able to show more of my artwork to people. My wearable brooches were definitely catered towards craft shows and shop consignments as they take less time to make. The panels were made to be pieces of art. Sculptural art pieces are harder to sell. EB: Where can our readers view and purchase your work? Do you have any upcoming shows for us to look out for? RF: You can check out my work online. Currently I do not have any shows coming up at the moment. I’m currently taking weaving classes and learning how to weave my own fabric!
marcela calderon, less putrid
two. How do you personally make the distinction? Where would you situate your work between the two? How do you think an event like City of Craft – an exhibit meets marketplace for both art and commodity goods – speaks to this issue?
slingshot brooches / twigs and thread / photo by karyn valino
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contributor
TINSEL AND SAWDUST Nestled away in the Dundas and Roncesvalles area is the studio of Katrina Tompkins, a furniture maker and owner of the company Tinsel and Sawdust. Having grown up in Oakville, Katrina came to the city with a passion for handy work, and the creativity of an artist. Combining the two she came up with Tinsel and Sawdust, a small furniture design company that focuses on functionality while using only locally sourced material and solvent-free varnish (if varnish is used at all). I sat down with her one evening in the west-end studio to chat about furniture, sustainability and how a little soul-searching can go a long way. (chelsea la vecchia) CL: When did you first realize you had an interest in furniture making? KT: Growing up my dad was a hobbyist. I came from a family of handy men. I was raised with the awareness of it and all the machinery. When I left high school I didn’t really know what I wanted to do. I begged my parents to let me take some time off before university, and that promised one year turned into five years. In that time I did some soul searching and worked on it. I realized I wanted to do something creative but functional. It just kind of came together from there. CL: Great! I also took some time off after high school, so I know where you come from with the soul searching. Did you do a lot of furniture making during your soul searching? KT: I did some, but more towards the end of those years. The moment I realized I wanted to do the program that I did, which is the Sheraton College furniture design and fabrication course I had just missed the deadline to apply. So I worked on a portfolio the rest of the year. It’s a great program; I would recommend it to anyone looking to get into furniture making. CL: Yeah, I have heard really good things about that program as well. So, how long has Tinsel and Sawdust been open for? KT: Since 2010. It started off when my sister bought me a domain name under my own name, which didn’t feel right. I felt like I wanted to do something bigger than just me, to collaborate with other artists. That’s where Tinsel and Sawdust started. Under that name I have collaborated with many different people. CL: What sorts of challenges have you encountered running a small business? KT: Many challenges. I’d say for sure learning the bookkeeping
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aspect about it. So I’ve learned to have envelopes for each job and keep a ledger. It’s also hard to market yourself and maintain a website. For people who have a passion for one thing there are so many more things you have to do to be successful. CL: Do you have any advice for artists just getting into furniture making? KT: Don’t take on jobs that you aren’t interested in doing. Have a theme. CL: What would you say is Tinsel and Sawdust’s theme? KT: I’m still working on that. I try to stay away from projects that use material that I don’t really believe in. I try and not do projects using fabricated material like MDS and generally do projects with solid wood, mostly locally grown wood. I feel like my work is more sculptural. I’m also interested in things that are multi-functional. For example I have a piece that is a chair that flips into a table, which is great for functionality in small living spaces. CL: Where in the city are we able to purchase Tinsel and Sawdust work? KT: You can get some things at Made on Dundas St. near Euclid. There is also Likely General, which is on Roncesvalles. Also you can buy directly through me. Most of my work is marketed through word of mouth. I’m doing an exhibition for Interior Design Week at the end of January. The exhibition is called Capacity, which actually focuses on all Canadian female designers. This year it’s at the Gladstone Hotel. To learn more about Katrina Tompkins and her work visit: www.tinselandsawdust.com
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image source: http://torontohyperbolicreef.blogspot.ca
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gallery review
TORONTO HYPERBOLIC CROCHET REEF A REVIEW BY ERIKA BALINT Back in 2005, Science writer Margaret Wertheim and her sister embarked on the Crochet Coral Reef project in California. The project was born from a hot topic of debate at the time – global warming – and its detrimental effect on the world’s coral reef. The coral reef is a delicate and intricate organism, and small fluctuations in temperature can devastate an entire ecosystem. This is when we find bleeched reefs. The Crochet Reef project was a direct response to this matter, and you can actually watch Wertheim give a TED talk on the matter here: http:// www.ted.com/talks/margaret_wertheim_crochets_ the_coral_reef.html At first, this project was solely in the hands of Margaret and her sister, but began to grow exponentially as more and more people heard about it and wanted to contribute reefs of their own. It first spread to Chicago, then to New York, and today nearly 9 years later it finds itself on three different continents, branching out into countless cities and communities: Toronto being one of them. The Toronto Hyperbolic Crochet Reef has been touring around to different gallery windows in the city, and can currently be found in the window display at Gallery 1313 in Parkdale until the end of January. The Toronto Reef follows the same model as its constituent reefs, and while it has been primarily built by Angelune Des Lauriers, Shannon Gerard, Kalpna Patel and Becky Johnson, anyone from the Toronto community is welcome and encouraged to contribute to it. If you’re wondering why it’s done in crochet (as Wertheim points out, “wooliness and wetness aren’t exactly two concepts that go together”) it’s actually a very deliberate medium. The twisting, frilly geometric shape of the coral organisms demonstrates what scientists call hyperbolic geometry, and the only way that this concept can physically be modeled is through crochet. Once again, in the famous words of Mr. Marshal McLuhan, “the medium is the message”. However, in addition to the geometric similarities,
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image source: http://torontohyperbolicreef.blogspot.ca
the precision and intricacy required in crochet techniques mirrors the intricate and delicate nature of the reef itself; one stitch out of place, one small upset in the very systemic weaving of yarn, and the entire organism is jeopardized. Moreover, the structure of the coral reef with all of its components only thriving in a delicate balance echoes the nature of our natural and built environment. This point brings us back full-circle: this Crochet Coral Reef project makes obvious the much larger issue of climate change, but just as it points out the issue, it offers a solution. Community involvement, reciprocal feedback, and creative building can all offer us solace if we are there to embrace them. So head over to Gallery 1313 to see the reef, or better yet, get your crochet needles out and contribute to a larger dialogue one small stitch at a time.
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contributor
DECORUM by jenna vanderende
Popsicle sticks. Googly eyes. Macramé. Housewives needlepointing in between daily chores, ironing their husbands’ suits and carting the kids around to their various lessons. These are the images that come to mind when I envisage ‘craft’—not exactly my cuppa tea. Despite my appreciation for works by the likes of Janet Morton, Germaine Koh and Ghada Amer, I have always had an aversion to craft. Perhaps it is simply the term that I struggle with—‘craft.’ It seems, to me, imbued with a sense of naïveté and generally backwards thinking. However, my recent excursion to the Musee d’Art Moderne in Paris quickly reformulated my opinion of the contestable term. Entitled Decorum: Carpets and Tapestries by Artists, the exhibition puts forth an array of carpet, tapestry, and woven works by both modern and contemporary artists, leaving this skeptic very nicely surprised. Collaboratively designed by artist Marc Camille Chaimowicz with architect Christine Ilex Beinemeier and curated by Anne Dressen, Decorum consumes the top floor of the illustrious museum. Separated into five different spaces and five different themes— The Painterly, The Decorative, Orientalisms, Primitivisms, and The Sculptural—the works exhibited are a far cry from manifestations of my skewed perspective of craft. Beautifully designed and executed, these tapestries, carpets and woven works are truly a ‘feast for the eyes’ (tacky, but seriously true!). From the initial entry into the exhibition (faves include: Mai Thu Perret’s The Crack Up IX, and Pierre Buraglio’s colour field work Solarization) through to the big finale—Franz West’s and Micheal Beutler’s Weaving Workshop—Decorum never ceases to impress. Not only is the exhibition laced with works by the likes of art superstars Pablo Picasso, Victor Vasarely, Francis Bacon, Louise Bourgeois, Brassai, and Joan Miro; the inclusion of less prominent figures as well as vernacular craft work to cement the validity of the form, its historical and contemporary relevance as well. And, of course, it would not be a craft-based exhibition without a dash of feminism; Magdalena Abakanowicz’s ‘lady part’esque knit, suspended tapestries fill this quota
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without shoving the underlying theme down your throat. Ultimately, Decorum touches on a plethora of seemingly disparate themes with such impressive transitions, leaving its audience free to experience a resolved, inclusive exhibition that is enjoyably digestible. Decidedly, Decorum: Carpets and Tapestries by Artists proves a striking display of handiwork, exhibition design and curation. Incorporating five diverse themes, works spanning a century and a wide range of artists, Decorum makes seamless transitions across differing concepts all the while maintaining the integrity of the medium. Take it from a non(craft)believer, this exhibition is seriously worth the visit if you happen to find yourself in Paris. If, more likely, you don’t . . . here are a few highlights to keep you going:
Caroline Achaintre, Moustache-Eagle
image source: http://torontohyperbolicreef.blogspot.ca
brassai, graffiti (1969-70) / image: http://www.mam. paris.fr/en/expositions/ decorum-exhibition
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michael beutlar, weaving workshop / image: http:// www.mam.paris.fr/en/expositions/decorum-exhibition
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UNION DUKE
I knew I would love Union Duke when I read the following line on their site: “Union Duke are five guys, 24 beers, and a half-ton truckload of foot stomping folk rock”. And they are. Their album Bandits and Bridges is the kind of music you wanna listen to when its summertime and you’re sitting lakeside with friends, or in a dimly lit little dive bar drinking good beer. Basically, it makes for a good time - and their hilarious and endearing beginnings as a bunch of young guys who just wanted to have fun making music makes them a perfect fit for the issue. Jim McDonald shares some of these stories below; give it a read (erika balint) EB: Tell us about yourselves! JM: Union Duke is based out of Toronto. Matt, Ethan and I met in high school and started playing music together. We went through a number of genres and band members until we found Will (from Port Hope) and Rob (from Red Deer) and everything just clicked. EB: And tell us about the music that you make. What other musical acts do you find yourself borrowing from or drawing
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inspiration from? How do you then shape that and make it your own? When you play to an audience, how do you hope to see them react to your music? JM: We play folk-rock-country-bluegrass. We all have pretty eclectic music tastes, so I think we all draw inspiration from a pretty wide pool of artists and genres and try to channel the things we like into our own songs. We also draw a lot of inspiration from each other. We all have different writing styles
photography by matthew brackett
music feature
and sometimes we’ll find ourselves working on a tune that could use an Ethan style chord progression, or a gap for one of Rob’s guitar hooks, or a Matt inspired lyric.
case a bomb goes off. He wound up taking his dentures out and scraping them down Matt’s arm before security threw him out.
The best thing ever is playing to a high energy crowd. We try to put as much energy into our shows as we can and it’s always better when the crowd reciprocates. One of the best feelings in the world is to see people you’ve never met before singing the words to your tunes.
EB: How have those early experiences impacted you guys – both musically and within your personal dynamic?
EB: Genres can be useful for generalizing music, but can often be too categorical and thus diminishing. Which facets of folk, or rock, or country and bluegrass do you attribute to yourselves – whether its sounds, ideas, or behaviors? JM: I think it’s hard to pinpoint exactly what aspects of each genres we use and don’t use. The definitions of each genre are so loose nowadays that genres have become almost vague generalizations rather than referring to specific forms of music. Of course, there are the classic country and bluegrass chord progressions, which we try to avoid (although we have made a few exceptions). Basically we try our best not to imitate. We draw inspiration from different songs and different genres, but we try to avoid anything that is generically a country tune, or generically a bluegrass tune. We try to move forward and do new things with our music rather than being too rooted in tradition. EB: In your bio, you sparked my interest by alluding to stories of playing on battered instruments in old workshop basements, and sneaking into bars as thirteen year olds to play music. Can you tell me more about that? JM: In high school, Matt, Ethan, and I, would skip class as much as we could and go to Ethan’s dad’s house. It was an old house just around the corner from the school. There was a big old workshop there and we used to practice in this tiny room with a bunch of old equipment from the 60s and 70s. We’d drink Lakeport (the worst beer ever) and play for hours. Our first gig was at a place called The Kathedral that used to be on Queen West before the area was gentrified and the venue turned into a high end furniture store. We helped to organize the show ourselves and sold the place out. It wasn’t long before we were playing all around the city. Sometimes we’d have to sneak in without getting ID’d so we’d be able to play, although more than once we were thrown out of venues for underage drinking. EB: And departing from my last question - any particularly funny stories? JM: There are a few. One particularly odd one happened when we were playing Reilley’s (which used to be on Yonge across from Sam The Record Man). This huge crazy guy kept hanging by the door pretending to be a bouncer. He started hassling our friends and kept talking about us needing him around in
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JM: I think the early experiences we had together definitely made us a lot better at negotiating with music venues. Matt, Ethan, and I are all 23 and we’ve been playing the Toronto circuit for almost a decade. More importantly though, the experiences we had brought us together as friends, which I think is one of the most important things about being in a band together. We always had trouble finding people that were on our same wavelength and as committed to playing as we were, until we found Rob and Will. They’re amazing musicians, but the important thing is we’re all great friends. I think that dynamic translates on stage. EB: I see you guys are touring around now. Do those same crazy experiences continue to pop up when you’re all hitting the road together? JM: There are always crazy experiences when we’re on the road together. The last tour we did, we didn’t book any accommodations before we left and just decided to wing it on our way out there. We found friends wherever we went to crash with, except in Fredericton. We didn’t know anyone, so we announced from the stage at the end of our set that we had nowhere to stay and a couple people offered us their place. So it all worked out. On our way from that show we blew a tire and had to get to Halifax that night. Three of us had to hitch-hike, while two of us rode 250kms on a donut, stopping periodically to soak it in water to cool it down before we found a garage that would do a tire past 5 on a Saturday. EB: How does Toronto’s cultural and musical landscape impact you guys? Can you think of anywhere else you’d rather be making music and doing what you’re doing? JM: I think Toronto has an amazing alt-country music scene going right now. Bars like the Dakota and The Cameron house have amazing bands every night of the week. There’s a ton of places that we’d love to go to play, particularly in the United States, but we definitely consider Toronto our home. EB: What are your next steps? Are you working on something new currently? Any big tours coming up in the future? JM: Right now we’re working on our second full-length album Cash & Carry, which is scheduled for release in the Spring. We’re really excited about it. I think it’s a huge step up from our first album. We’re booking a tour to coincide with the album release and we have a number of festivals lined up for the summer that we’re really looking forward to. Onwards and upwards!
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literature feature
TARA BURSEY by erika balint
At OCAD, I had the pleasure of studying alongside interdisciplinary artist and emerging curator Tara Bursey. As an artist, she is invested in installation, performance, textiles and publishing. Tara has worked in a curatorial capacity for a number of well-established institutions and galleries, such as the Textile Museum of Canada, Gallery 1313 and the Ontario Crafts Council.
and adaptation. Compiling their convergent stories and elevating them through the production of both publications and works of art, Father Knowledge, Mother Tongue addresses the importance of integrating overlooked voices-specifically those of immigrants and working classes-- into the cultural landscape.”
In this issue, we are featuring Tara’s curatorial thesis project: Father Knowledge, Mother Tongue: An Interdisciplinary Publishing Project. She describes this project, stating:
For this project, Tara self-published two separate works: Réchneek, a dictionary in book format produced by her and her mother translating an oral Macedonian dialect into written form; as well as You Can’t Get There From Here, a broadside containing an account of Tara’s father’s experiences leaving his small town in Newfoundland to live and work on mainland Canada. For both texts, Tara transcribed her parent’s spoken words into written language using the inherent power ascribed to books and text to elevate marginal voices. In Tara’s own words:
“Taking inspiration from diverse approaches and disciplines such as oral history, critical pedagogy, community art practices and new working class studies, the project centers on two artist books I produced in collaboration with my parents that highlight their respective stories of inmigration and immigration, language, labour
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‘The history of small press activity geared to
empower, educate and disseminate the voices of diverse groups within both popular and political contexts is both long and rich. One of my earliest intentions for Father Knowledge, Mother Tongue was to produce documents that work towards subverting the form of the authoritative text in service of more marginal groups.” With Father Knowledge, Mother Tongue, Tara successfully harnesses ideas and oral exchanges to produce a physical, finalized product through selfpublishing – which is in itself an empowering act. The following is an excerpt from You Can’t Get There From Here: You Can’t Get There From Here I guess it was probably sometime in 1972, me and a buddy of mine, we left a little town called Clarenville, in Newfoundland. I can still remember the day-- it was probably late summer-- when my dad brought us up to the highway. He was getting up in years at that time, his health wasn’t all that good. We sort of had that little touchy scene goodbye. He wasn’t a touchyfeely kinda guy, so we actually shook hands and I sort of remember him saying “well son, you may not see me alive anymore,” so he says “take care of your self” and I remember he had this saying “you make a bad bed, you’ll have to lie in it”…I guess it’s basically self-explanatory…I guess it meant if you get in trouble, get in shit your going to have to get out of it the best way you can. So anyway, he drove away, and my buddy and I stuck out our thumbs and hoped for the best, headed Westbound on the Trans Canada Highway, headed for the big smoke, T.O. Well, you know, several rides along the way, we stopped in a town about 150 miles west called Bishops Falls, um, nothing really significant, (it’s) just that I lived there in the mid 60’s I guess and I know some people there, but we carried on. One little funny story…basically, my friend there, Don, he had a watch, (and) he was washing up prior to getting on the boat-- because Newfoundland is an island of course-- at Port-au-Basque. Ohh…(a) rough old miserable place, it’s always raining, lots of rock, nothing will grow there…it looks like Mars, really. So anyway, over on the other side, this guy approached us and asked us if we want to buy a watch, so Don said “maybe, let me see the thing.” So sure enough was Don’s watch. He said, “under that leather strap, the initials are scratched DV for Don Verge.” So the guy gave Don the watch. I think (Don) gave him a couple of dollars, just to help him out anyway. It was probably Don’s fault because he had left the watch in the washroom anyways, so the guy picked it up. That was something that sort of stuck in my mind. Uh, on the way up y’know…sleeping in ditches, sleeping in abandoned cars and uh, parks, picnic tables…trailer
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parks were a good spot because there was generally somewhere to sleep and a washroom, somewhere to grab a shower, you could wash up. We were eight days on the road, actually. We arrived in Toronto about nine o’clock at night at my brother’s place, (in the) east end of Toronto, (in) Scarborough. His name was Dennis…he and his wife were just recently married, I don’t think they had any kids-- they were just married. I remember he gave us some food, it was a can of stew, and he opened it up-- a can of Cordon Bleu stew-- and I think we had some toast and a glass of juice or something. But, um, yeah, at that point I can sort of see him and his wife sort of nudging elbows back and forth and always looking at each other back and forth so (I said) “what’s going on?” So Dennis mentioned to me, he said: “You know where you guys should go right now?” I said “’Oh? I don’t know, where’s that?” He said: “The Salvation Army has a hostel downtown.” He said: “I’ll bring you down.” That was quite memorable. I never forgot that, because that was a quite a point in my life. I guess that sort of molded me in a way.
And next, we have additional excerpts from an interview that Tara conducted and transcribed with her mother regarding Réchneek: Réchneek Interview What did the fact that the language was only oral mean in Greece? Was it something that they thought
of, or they didn’t really think of it, it just was that way? I don’t think we really gave it much thought-- we definitely didn’t as kids. But this went on for generations, I would say. You could imagine all those little villages, and if you had had any access to schools you were fortunate, and if you were an adult you wouldn’t (have had access to schools). They were storytellers, and they passed on their stories from generation to generation in their language. So what kind of stories do you mean? Well, for example when we were kids, as you can imagine there wasn’t much to do on bad weather days, wintertime or rainy days, we would sit with the older people -- the grandparents, and you know, the older folks, and we’d gather around and wait for the storms to blow over, or we’d just sit and the evening and listen to their stories. They’re called preekaznee, stories. And our town in particular, it was known for it’s storytellers-- it’s like the native Indians who do that-- and some of the surrounding towns too. I wasn’t aware of this-- this is what Tom was telling me. But I remember when I was a kid even, it was like story time, story time, but story time wasn’t just for children. My mom even had songs that were passed down from generation to generation (laughs). But the fact that it was only an oral language, did that change for Macedonians that came here? When people move here, does the language change, or does it stay the same? You know, that’s a good question. It stays exactly the same, when we came here in ’67, nothing changed. We just continued on and right up to when I stopped speaking this language, which was when my mom passed away, we just continued on as if nothing happened between 1967 and 2006. We had all those traditions…nothing changed because everything evolved in Greece in some way, in the Aegean Macedonia. But nothing changed here because that’s what we knew, what we brought here…and we just went on that way, as if we were caught in a time warp, which was kind of neat actually ‘cause everyone else…they lost this culture that we’re talking about. In Greece they don’t speak the language anymore, it’s going to be extinct. I would say in 20 years, it’s going to be extinct. Here in Canada, there are mixed marriages and it dies out just like it died out in my family, right? You know, and particularly in Greece it’s just not the thing to do, because you have to be Hellenized, you have to speak Greek. It’s like being Westernized, everyone wants to be Westernized, right? So there goes the language, hardly anyone speaks it, not even the older people now. But those who do, those who love their language, they cherish it and they value it. My cousin for example, he can’t stop talking about how much he loves our language, it’s a beautiful language.
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So speaking of moving here, can you talk about the areas of Toronto that you lived in after you moved here. You moved a number of times, so if you can just talk about each of the areas that you lived in, and the experience of coming from Greece and the adjustment, and if the language had anything to do with that. I’m interested in anything really, from the schools to the neighbourhoods. We first moved to the west end with my uncle, he was here, and we lived with him in his house with him and his wife and children. And my grandparents also lived there-- they came here before us. So we lived there for about a year. My parents found work right away, my mother worked in a factory-- a cardboard factory-- and my dad worked in a restaurant, probably washing dishes, ‘cause that’s the only thing you could do if you didn’t have the language, (if) you couldn’t speak English. For me, it was exciting, it was new…I remember looking at all these buildings…when we were in Athens, there were all these 6 story buildings there, but you didn’t see any huge apartment buildings (that were) ten, twelve stories, let alone skyscrapers. So this was all new to me. And even just going into a grocery store, to what was then Steinberg’s, which is probably a (Metro) now, and I was looking at all this food and I was thinking oh my God, it’s heaven, you know, although I didn’t even know what was what! So it was not hard for me, it was hard for my parents. And being in an Italian area, they’re very much like Greeks, we got along real well and we lived in a court so all the Italian people…everyone’s door was always open, we played with the children. It was fun for us. And in school…on Friary Court in the west end, we had special English classes, which was helpful, so I learned English in about a year. That was really a fun place to live for children. It was a good community-- they were all immigrants and they were really helpful to one another. For example, my grandmother…her daughter which would be my aunt Katina, she lived in the Parliament (Avenue) area, and she would buy all this clothing from Sears at a really good price and she would give it to my grandmother to re-sell. And this is what my grandmother would do in the west end, can you believe it? You know, you would buy vests and tops for a dollar, and then you would double up the price. So my grandmother would go knocking door to door and sell things to the neighbours, and I remember one time I was going with her, because she (spoke) no English. So I knocked on a door and I opened it, not knowing that I maybe shouldn’t open someone else’s door, and a big German Sheppard bit my arm (laughs) and I had to go and get a Tetanus shot. So, that’s the thing with immigrants… See more of Tara’s work on her website: http://www. tarabursey.com/
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