Showing posts with label Anya Baker. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Anya Baker. Show all posts

15 February 2017

TORONTO STORIES FROM THE REAL CANADIAN PORTUGUESE HISTORICAL MUSEUM

TORONTO STORIES

STORIES BY: ANYA BAKER, AMANDA BARBOSA, JANE CAMPBELL, XUEN YUAN LI, AND ORVIS STARKWEATHER

COMPILED BY: BRENNA PLADSEN

The series of digital stories about Toronto history and culture which make up this project are the work of fifty-three Master of Museum Studies (MMSt) graduate students. The project was inspired by the 2015 Myseum Intersections – Telling Toronto’s Stories and invited each storyteller to select an object from local collections which has significance to Toronto’s past and present. The objects inspired the authors to connect historical events with contemporary context so that they tell stories about the multiple intersections that happen in the city.

Musings will be posting collected stories once a cycle. We hope that, after reading the stories, you will know Toronto a little bit better. And perhaps you will find similar stories in your own objects!

Our partners for this project, to which we are extremely thankful, are:
Now, without further ado, object stories from Real Canadian Portuguese Historical Museum.

TORONTO'S SMALL BUT DETERMINED FADO MUSIC SCENE


BY: ANYA BAKER
Guitarra Portuguesa belonging to Nuno Christo, RCPHM.
Photo by Anya Baker.
The Real Canadian Portuguese Historical Museum (RCPHM) displays three musical instruments used in different genres of traditional Portuguese music; one of these, the guitarra Portuguesa, along with instruments like the steel-stringed viola and the double bass is used in the popular genre of fado. Its owner, instrumentalist Nuno Cristo, plays fado in the Toronto Portuguese community. He was part of the local fado resurgence in the 2000s when new players entered the scene, at the height of musical exchanges between local Portuguese musicians and Canadian musicians outside of the Portuguese community, which reflects the long-standing musical exchange between local talent and visiting musicians from Portugal.

Fado started in the 19th century in Lisbon. With its simple harmonic progressions and sentimental lyrics, it was considered the music of the lower classes, sung in taverns. It was suppressed and then re-branded as music of national prominence during the Estado Novo (1932-1973), the five decades of authoritarian rule in Portugal under António de Olivieira Salazar and Marcelo Caetona. [1] Fado’s history is reflected in what Cristo calls its saudade: a kind of bittersweet, melancholy, but pleasurable feeling.

Mariano Rego was one of the first fado players in Toronto in the 1970s, when many Portuguese immigrants settled in the area. “Immigrants tend to retain the ‘old’ culture,” Cristo explains; Toronto fado performers tend to rely on traditional arrangements, in contrast to more innovative fado coming directly out of Portugal. Still, a musical dialogue exists: artists from Portugal have been visiting Toronto under the invitation of Portuguese clubs and organization since the 1970s. Local Toronto musicians open for the shows of these visiting musicians, and often a local singer will perform.

For younger fado performers born in Canada, fado is a way to explore Portuguese heritage, while also representing the Portuguese community within the wider Toronto music scene. Older fado performers who immigrated from Portugal seek to keep their community’s connection to their homeland alive. Cristo entered the Toronto scene in 1985 playing traditional Portuguese music. He started playing fado in Canada during the 2000s. He was part of Anima Fado, a group of musicians and singers new and old playing fado and incorporating Canadian musicians outside of the Portuguese community. The group eschewed traditional costumes and setups, and was booked in non-Portuguese venues such as music festivals, the Gladstone Hotel and Lula Lounge.

Despite challenges that forced many younger performers to quit the scene, including rivalries, competition for gigs, and changing public tastes, fado groups continue to play at venues like Lisbon By Night Restaurant and Chiado Restaurant. The innovation of the resurgence is not forgotten, but nostalgia for authentic fado maintains the community’s ties to Portugal, even as it forces Toronto fado to set itself apart from the Portuguese scene. Bringing fado to Toronto created a new Canadian Portuguese tradition--this is Toronto’s music.

Footnotes
1. Gray, Lila Ellen (2011). Fado’s city. Anthropology and Humanism, 36(2), 142. http://journals1.scholarsportal.info.myaccess.library.utoronto.ca/pdf/15599167/v36i0002/141_fc.xml.

SAILING THE SEAS WITH CODFISH: FROM VESSELS IN NEWFOUNDLAND TO EATERIES IN TORONTO


BY: AMANDA BARBOSA

Many Portuguese pescadores or fishermen sailed across the Atlantic in search of codfish during the mid- to late-1900s. After having undergone many voyages aboard different vessels, some decided to return to Portugal, but many decided to call Canada their new home. I was introduced to the story of one of these fishermen through the Real Canadian Portuguese Historical Museum, inspired by the museum’s many panels on the history of their arrival on the coast of Newfoundland. His name is José Peña and he started his journey at sea in 1951 at the young age of 15. Peña would spend many years exploring the waters and coast of Newfoundland before he would finally settle down in Toronto in the late 1960s with his family. So for some Portuguese, codfish carries a significant meaning. It is what brought them to Canada and to later seek a home in Toronto.
One of the panels on the history of codfish and the Portuguese in Newfoundland
displayed at the Real Canadian Portuguese Historical Museum.
Photo credit: Amanda Barbosa with permission of the Museum.
The journey experienced by José Peña has made me reflect on the ways that food often travels together with those who move to different countries. The Portuguese who migrated to Canadian cities, such as Toronto, brought recipes of codfish or bacalhau, as it is called in Portuguese, along with them. Bacalhau is one of the most important ingredients in the Portuguese cuisine. In fact, it is said that there are over 300 different ways of cooking the fish! I want to share this story of how the Portuguese-Canadian community has continued to practice their food customs and how, as a result, they have transformed the “food-scape” in Toronto.

One of the areas where the Portuguese first began settling into was Kensington in the 1950s and 1960s. [1] There, they found themselves sharing the neighbourhood with many other immigrant communities, such as Italians, Jews, Hungarians and Ukrainians. [2] In the late 1960s and early 1970s, many Portuguese, including José Peña, would start moving into the area known today as “Little Portugal” or “Portugal Village,” located west of downtown Toronto. [3] Here, the Portuguese began to open restaurants, bakeries and grocery stores, along with other businesses. Codfish - boiled, fried and baked - was one of the most common food found on their menus.

In Kensington, these food businesses influenced the area so much that it went from being “known as a ‘Jewish market’” to being called a “Portuguese market.” [4] Augusta Avenue, where many of these stores and restaurants were and still are located, even became “known as the street of Portuguese!” [5] Although this shift occurred, to this day, Kensington Market remains an area where different immigrant groups have come together to share the tastes from their homelands. Even in Little Portugal many other eateries can be found, such as Italian, Asian, and of course, Portuguese. If there’s one thing I have learned, it is that food is one of the ways different immigrant groups have been able to connect in the city.

Footnotes
Teixeira and Murdie, 2009, p. 192.
Teixeira and Murdie, 2009, p. 192.
Teixeira and Murdie, 2009, p. 195.
Teixeira and Murdie, 2009, p. 192.
Teixeira and Murdie, 2009, p. 192.

Works Consulted 
Andrieux, J-P. (2009). Portuguese Fishermen in Newfoundland. In C. Teixeira and V. M.P. Da Rosa (Eds.), The Portuguese in Canada: Diasporic Challenges and Adjustment (pp. 61-77). Toronto: University of Toronto Press.

Baptista, L. D. B. (2009). Peixe, Patria e Possibilidades Portuguesas: “Fish, Homeland, and Portuguese Possibilities.” Text and Performance Quarterly 29 (1), 60-76. 

Belas, Antonio. Personal Communication. November 6, 2015.

Padolsku, E. (2005). You are Where you Eat: Ethnicity, Food and Cross-cultural Spaces. Canadian Ethnic Studies 37(2), 19-31.

Peña, José. Personal Communication. November 4, 2015.

Teixeira, C., and Murdie, R. A. (2009). On the Move: The Portuguese in Toronto. In C. Teixeira and V. M.P. Da Rosa (Eds.), The Portuguese in Canada: Diasporic Challenges and Adjustment (pp. 191-209). Toronto: University of Toronto Press.

FINDING THE TREASURE OF HISTORY IN EVERYDAY OBJECTS AT THE REAL CANADIAN PORTUGUESE HISTORICAL MUSEUM


BY: JANE CAMPBELL

Antonio Amorim’s scale, in the Real Canadian Portuguese Historical Museum.
Photo by Jane Campbell.
The most humble object can tell a fascinating story. Even a scale! Antonio Amorim’s scale may not draw too much attention, but the story it tells is one that reflects a strong community and a compelling Toronto narrative. Amorim, the scale’s owner, immigrated to Toronto in 1955. According to his daughter Suzy Soares, president of the Real Canadian Portuguese Historical Museum (RCPHM), life in Portugal was difficult after the Second World War, with paying jobs few and far between. Soares recounts that her father had initially worked at St Michael’s College in maintenance, until 1960. Her mother was still living in Portugal at this time, working as a teacher. When Mrs Amorim joined Antonio in Toronto, they decided to rent 5 acres of land and cultivate potatoes, carrots and onions. The farm’s crops were taken to the city to be sold in Kensington Market, which was at the time a prominent Portuguese neighborhood1. The scale, now on display at the museum, managed by his daughter, was purchased by Amorim to weigh the farmed goods for customers in the city, and, while humble in its appearance, was important to Amorim’s life story. 

Kensington Market produce trucks, circa 1963.
Via the City of Toronto Archives, Fonds 1257, Series 1057, Item 5612.
In its current home, Amorim’s scale holds its own amidst the rest of the museum’s treasures – antique flags, countless oil paintings, musical instruments – because its story livens up its unassuming appearance. The scale testifies to Amorim’s story of making a life for himself and his family in Toronto through hard work. Amorim’s scale also speaks to the important intersection between the Portuguese community and commerce in the city. The entrepreneurial vigor of Toronto’s Portuguese community is visible in the sheer number of Portuguese owned businesses and operations in Toronto, which number over one hundred 2. The Portuguese business history in Toronto is written into the very walls of the RCPHM as the museum and archive is housed in the headquarters of Portuguese-run Ferma Foods. Businesses like these rely on the community’s support, much like the museum does. The museum has ties to agriculture as well – in the early years of the institution, the collection was held in the working space of agricultural equipment manufacturer Massey Ferguson 3. Amorim’s scale fits in the intersection of these aspects of the community’s presence in the city.

Suzy Soares donated her father’s scale to the museum in order to tell his story. The pride he felt for his business and his entrepreneurial roots in Toronto are embedded in the object. The scale reminds us as well to take a closer look at those objects in our own families that may not call attention to themselves. If you look around at the everyday items from your own home, you may just find a portal to a personal and collective history.

Works Cited

Costa, Daniela. 2012. “From Minho to Macau: The Portuguese Canadian Historical Museum.” Heritage Toronto, December 7 2012. Accessed October 19, 2015. http://heritagetoronto.org/from-minho-to-macau-the-portuguese-canadian-historical-museum/

Federation of Portuguese Canadian Business Professionals. N.d. “Business Directory.” Federation of Portuguese Canadian Business Professionals. Accessed October 19, 2015. http://www.fpcbp.com/business-directory/.

Kensington Market Historical Society. N.d. “Kensington Market in the 1950s-1960s.” Kensington Market Historical Society. Accessed October 30, 2015. http://kmhs.ca/footnotes/kensington-market-in-the-1950s-1960s/

BEFORE LITTLE PORTUGAL: A PORTUGUESE CANADIAN'S LIFE STORY


BY: XUEN YUAN LI

Group postcard of Saturnia’s Portuguese immigrants, from the Real Canadian Portuguese Historical Museum,
 http://www.realcphmuseusm.ca/. Received via e-mail from Suzy Soares
On May 13, 1953, at the Halifax harbor, the first eighty-five Portuguese immigrants to modern Canada arrived on board the Italian liner Saturnia. [1] Brought over by Canada’s post-war demand for workers on railways and farmlands, this was an opportunity for them to leave behind their country’s political authoritarianism and economic underdevelopment. [2] Coming to a nation the knew close to nothing about, and leaving Portugal all alone without money, what life will be like was unknown.

One of the men in the postcard photo is named Antonio Sousa, who witnessed his fellow passenger’s homesickness as they wept, unsure when they will meet their family again. [3] At the arrival to Canada, they lacked their Portuguese communities, stable employment, and social integration programs, making their early life in Canada distinctly challenging. [4]

After parting with the passengers in Halifax, Antonio stayed in Toronto briefly before going to Sarnia. Failing to be employed in Ontario, he found work as a cook and a shopkeeper in distant Labrador. [5]

In 1954, after securing sufficient income in Labrador, Antonio felt confident about returning to Toronto, settling in Kensington Market. What surprised him was that the number of the Portuguese residents in the neighborhood has grown since he left for Labrador nine months prior. There were no more than ten Portuguese families when he left, but now there were dozens more, with new residents moving in every month. With his savings, he opened a restaurant at the intersection of Nassau and Bellevue Streets, a gathering place for the growing numbers of Portuguese. [6]
Portuguese immigration increased tremendously in the next two decades. At least 7000 arrived annually between 1965 and 1975, with Montreal and Toronto as primary destinations. [7] This demographic change expanded the Kensington Market’s Portuguese neighborhood westward towards Landsdowne. By the end of the 70’s, this new community became known as Little Portugal. [8] Antonio must have marveled at the dramatic changes in the city’s Portuguese presence since the first eighty-five arrival aboard Saturnia.

Antonio’s son, Charles Sousa, was born in Kensington Market in 1958. Today, he is the MPP of Mississauga South and the provincial Minister of Finance, a significant feat for the Portuguese Canadian community in Canada. [9] Antonio’s interesting life stories represented the nature of the intersection between Portuguese Canadians and Toronto, where an immigration community expanded and become a significant part of the city’s social fabric. This postcard is a reminder of how different the Portuguese community was upon its arrival. It marked a time before the existence of Little Portugal and the birth of one passenger’s son named Charles Sousa. 

To discover more of Saturnia’s arrivals and their life stories, visit this website. How can these immigrant experiences be a mirror to today’s migrant experiences?

Footnotes 
1. Marques and Medeiros, 26.
2. Libertucci, 6-8.
3. Marques and Medeiros, 54-55.
4. Libertucci, 16-17.
5. Marques and Medeiros, 64-65.
6. Ibid, 136-137.
7. Ibid, 32.
8. Libertucci, 19.
9. Morrow.

Works CitedCandido, F. (2010). The Saturnia Ship Portuguese immigrants. Retrieved October 22, 2015 from http://fernandocandido.com/saturnia/saturnia.html

Libertucci, A. (2011). Schooling in Little Portugal: The Portuguese experience (Dissertation). Retrieved from University of Toronto Libraries. (Catalogue key 8309127)

Marques, D., & Medeiros, J. (1980). Portuguese immigrants: 25 years in Canada. Toronto: West End YMCA.

Morrow, A. (2013, April 27). Ontario Finance Minister Charles Sousa calm, collected. The Globe and Mail. Retrieved from http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/politics/ontario-finance-minister-charles-sousa-calm-collected/article11589216/

THE ORIGINAL YOU'VE GOT MAIL: THE PEDE DA SILVA COMMEMORATIVE STAME AND THE PORTUGUESE CONNECTION TO CANADA POST


BY: ORVIS STARKWEATHER

The Pedro da Silva Commemorative Stamp on Display
at the Real Canadian Portuguese Historical Museum
photographed by Orvis Starkweather
With Canada Post slowly phasing out door-to-door delivery, perhaps it’s a good time to look back on its history. Pedro da Silva was the first European formally appointed as a mail carrier in New France. While some of the details of his life, such as his birth year - either 1647 or 1651, we know that he was living in Canada by 1673. Da Silva married Marie Jeanne Greslon and the two settled in Beauport, now a suburb of Quebec City. He and Greslon had fourteen children, and one of his sons, Nicolas da Silva, became a stonemason, working on many prominent houses. Known simply as “the Portuguese”, in reference to his country of birth, da Silva was granted official permission to carry the King’s letters in 1705. Pedro distinguished himself from other couriers because he delivered the post in all seasons, unlike many of his competitors who only worked when the weather was favourable.

At the Real Canadian Portuguese Historical Museum (RCPHM) in Etobicoke, Pedro da Silva is remembered through a stamp. Designed by Clermont Malefant, the stamp combines a painting of Quebec City, with the King’s coat of arms, and a reproduction of the letter with his official designation. Released in 2003, the stamp marks fifty years since Canada endorsed accepting Portuguese immigrants. While Portuguese people have been visiting the shores of Newfoundland since the 16th century to fish for Cod, a change in Canada’s official policy in the 1950s made it easier for Portuguese to immigrate, many of whom helped establish the thriving community in Toronto. According to Sylvie Soares, director of RCPHM, starting in 1950s, several stereotypes were circulating in Toronto about Portuguese, one of the most popular being that all Portuguese-Canadians worked in construction. Many children of Portuguese descent living in Toronto grew up with this stereotype. By celebrating a different profession, postal carrier, the stamp challenges some misconceptions about Portuguese and their professional paths.

Twelve years after the release of the stamp, the object now resides at the Museum. The stamp, which originally was intended to be used and discarded, gives us important clues about the life of early Canadian-Portuguese immigrants, and could be the start of a great oral history project where Portuguese people are asked to remember how images of their heritage depicted in popular media altered their sense of identity. 

If you’re searching for more information on the stamp, check out Bill Moniz’s documentary on da Silva’s life. Then again, there is nothing quite like a trip to the Real Canadian Portuguese Historical Museum to see the stamp and hear more about it from the expert, Suzy Soares.

Bibliography
Canada Post. (2015, June 6). Pedro da Silva. Retrieved November 25, 2015, from https://www.canadapost.ca/cpo/mc/personal/collecting/stamps/archives/2003/2003_jun_pedro.jsf?LOCALE=en

Canadian Museum of Immigration at Pier 21. (2015). The Portuguese in Canada. Retrieved November 25, 2015, from https://www.pier21.ca/research/pier-21/the-portuguese-in-canada

City of Toronto. (2015). Diversity - Toronto Facts. Retrieved November 24, 2015, from http://www1.toronto.ca/wps/portal/contentonly?vgnextoid=dbe867b42d853410VgnVCM10000071d60f89RCRD

Lord, Gail Dexter and Ngaire Blankenberg. 2015. Introduction: Why Cities, Museums and Soft Power. In Cities, Museums and Soft Power G Lord and N Blankenberg (eds), pp. 5-28. Washington: AAM Press.

Vaillancourt, M. (n.d.). Pedro Da Sylva « Nos ancêtres de la Nouvelle-France. Retrieved from http://histoiresdancetres.com/non-classe/pedro-da-sylva/

1 April 2016

INTERPRETATION, MERCHANDISING, AND HISTORY: THE HISTORIC COSTUMERS OF INSTAGRAM

SEW WHAT?

BY: ANYA BAKER

I had to take a credit in Drama & Theatre to fulfill the requirements for my English Lit. undergrad--I chose (no surprise) a course in Theatre Costuming. Twelve of us in the course were tasked with outfitting the entire student cast of a production of Caryl Churchill's Cloud 9: a play set half in the 19th century, half in the 1979. Costuming is hard. I made a tailored Victorian frock coat for a very muscular man (and therefore, not a beginner's tailoring project), and spent more time ripping out the stitches than sewing them. This wouldn't have been a problem, if the deadlines of a stage production weren't looming over my head as I sewed.

So, I didn't go on with costuming, even though it marries my two great loves: sewing and fashion history. Instead, I just follow dozens of costumers on Instagram. Interestingly, many of them have connections to museums or related heritage institutions. 

Professional costumers, in researching and expertly executing authentic-looking pieces for the stage or screen, are fantastic resources for museums to use for programming, research, or artefact creation. The thing about costuming for the stage is that the lighting, elevation of the stage in relation to the audience, and the shape and required actions of a performer all affect the interpretation of the historic dress. Some things get simplified, because no one is going to be able to see them. A historic interpreter sitting in an exhibit isn't forty rows away from the visitor, like an audience member might be from a performer; in a museum, the costumes can be interpreted as reproduction artefacts. Moreover, in the hands of the public, a reproduction artefact can be a special-occasion dress or even a part of a regular wardrobe.

People really love dressing up. Costumers can make a living off of merchandising their knowledge of history and skillful reproduction capabilities, like the historical shoemaker of Instagram, Lauren (@americanduchess) of American Duchess:

Image credit: Lauren.

Others, like Cynthia Settje (@redthreaded), owner of bespoke costume business Redthreaded, are well-known for making custom and ready-to-wear pieces for the public, and bespoke costumes for the stage. A specialized knowledge of fiddly garments like corsets, stays, and everything ruffled is required in building a customer base both in and outside of the theatre:

Cynthia's caption declared that her studio sewed 53 petticoats over the course of several months. That's 53 more petticoats than I ever want to sew. Image credit: Cynthia Settje.

In terms of museum work, many costumers merchandise not only the finished product, but also their skill sets as historic textile experts. Izabela Pitcher (@izabelapriorattire), who owns the bespoke costume business Prior Attire, advertises herself not only as a costumer, but as a for-hire interpreter for Living History demonstrations or costume-making sessions. The breadth of her knowledge of historic dress is astounding, as are number of related skills involved in performing as an interpreter in different time periods: everything from fencing to making bobbin lace! This medieval dressmaking workshop at the Valence House Museum in Dagenham is my everything:


My kind of afternoon. Image credit: Izabela Pitcher.

Looking authentically historic makes people connect with the past. Making costumes that ooze authenticity, like Jasper and Angela (@walking_through_history) of the blog Walking Through History, and providing built-in programming opportunities appeal both to museums and members of the public. They run a historic banquet business, in addition to making highly detailed costumes for themselves modelled off of paintings:

Look at that lace! Image credit: Jasper and Angela.
Costumers like Ruth Watkin (@ruthwatkincostumes) work directly with museums to interpret the exhibited artefacts into textile programmes, like these amazing Vermeer reproductions at Kenwood House in London:

Image credit: Ruth Watkin.

Can you imagine taking a museum selfie with a Vermeer, looking like you stepped out of a Vermeer painting? The role of interactive artefacts in this programme elevates the visitor from being a passive viewer of the artwork to being a part of the exhibit.

There are plenty more costumers on Instagram and they are hugely inspirational, not only for my dressmaking practice, but for my museum practice, too!

Finally, it is a truth universally acknowledged, that a museum professional finally in possession of a graduate degree must be in want of a new gig. This is the end of my time writing for Musings.


I'm shifting my blogging efforts over to Baboushka Buttons, if you want to keep up with what I'm stitching. Good luck to whoever takes over "Sew What?", and thanks for reading!

7 March 2016

HANDLING HISTORY GENTLY

RESEARCH COLUMN

BY: ANYA BAKER

Last year, I wrote a research paper on the Third Balkan War: "Two Bridges in Bosnia: Narratives Informing Memorialized Spaces Post-Conflict". The war started the year I was born, 1992, and ended the year my family moved to Austria, 1995. Around the same time, tens of thousands of Bosnians fled as refugees into Austria. Reading eyewitness accounts as a graduate student, I understand the war to be a mess of competing ethno-religious narratives leading to horrific atrocities. As a little kid watching reports of the rebuilding efforts on the news, I simply understood that the levelling of entire cities from shells and bombs and bullets had fundamentally altered the lives of my classmates. It was as if everything that marked the landscapes as theirs had been erased. Almost a quarter-of-a-century later, the restored landscapes are still a sea of competing narratives about the events of the war jostling against each other for prominence. A single feature of the landscape -- a bridge or a building or a rebuilt neighbourhood -- legitimizes trauma and becomes embedded with it. The presence of survivors representing different narratives creates a complex series of locally curated associations of peoples with a single public space.

The Marketplace of Warsaw during WWII and after it's restoration. Source.

History -- even 25-year-old history, even 150-year-old history, even 1000-year-old history -- is not dead. Its active interpretation makes it live and powerful. Accepted historical record is distended and narratives bleed into interpretation. As a young museum professional in a global society saturated in fresh trauma and looking to find meaning and justification in age-old narratives of similar violence, it is not lost on me that I am an outsider to many of these interpretations and narratives. I can research and interpret difficult or painful histories, but they will never be my stories. Narratives of incredible violence can pain me and testimonies move me, but that does not give me leave to root about disturbing freshly-settled dirt. There are gatekeepers to certain histories for a reason: to protect the community from further harm, to uphold an understanding of events that is likely under attack, and to ensure the survival of community-specific cultural memories in the face of a sometimes unstable future.

Research is an important step towards interpreting difficult history. Source.

As Menachem Wecker writes about discussing #BlackLivesMatter at the "History, Rebellion, and Reconciliation" symposium at the Smithsonian's National Museum of African American History and Culture, people need museums to be a place where they can feel safe to engage with their own history, both in isolation and as it intersects with the histories of others. As a museum professional, it will always be my job to help people respectfully interact with the meaning and integrity of another person or communities' experience without appropriating or diminishing important narratives. Similarly, it is imperative to reject the upholding of damaging assumptions that obscure uncomfortable realities.

Thinking on my research, I keep coming back to Disha Jani's article in The Toast, "Traces of Destruction: The Emotional Work of Studying Painful History". She and other young academics of colour discuss how, when working with their own histories, they deal with the "sensation of being-distracted -- always distracted -- by how your work is making you feel." Museums engaging with difficult topics almost demand that the people whose histories are on display engage intimately with their feelings just to be part of the conversation. Difficult histories and subjects will always be discussed -- whether with a bridge or an exhibit display as an interpretive locus -- but treating those histories gently and respectfully will be what allows people to feel comfortable using the museum as an extension of their community's historical and cultural memory.

Many museums are making increasing efforts to be more inclusive. Source.

Editor's note: Anya Baker came into Museum Studies after a degree in English Literature, and so is interested in narrative, storytelling, and public interactions with heritage and memory -- whether it is in her "Sew What?" column on fashion history, or her other areas of research. She will be doing a lightning talk about her research on the two bridges at the upcoming iSchool Conference.

4 March 2016

THE HOME SEWER AND HER PATTERNS

SEW WHAT?

BY: ANYA BAKER

Image credit: Anya Baker.

Sewing close-fitted and tailored clothing takes a fair bit of skill. When tailoring came in to fashion in the Middle Ages, it helped develop a garment-making industry that set apart those with enough money to hire someone to do it for them, and those who had to do it themselves. Patterns for home-sewers were fashion's original great equalizer--sort of like a 19th-century Forever 21. And despite the fragility of paper, it's a history that is still preserved and interpreted in both academic and commercial archives.

Yes: 19th-century. It seems late, but commercial pattern production and distribution depended entirely on the rise of cheap printing and the infrastructure necessary to support mail delivery. Although tailors were publishing guides for other tailors as early as the 14th century, guides for the non-professional were not developed until the very end of the 17th century. For more info, look at Joy Spanabel Emery's article. What is important to me is that home-sewers, instead of just using "cheats" like gathers, loose fits, and drawstrings to make home-drafted clothes fit better, could recreate the latest tailored fashions from afar as fashion magazines began including free pattern as magazine supplements in the 1840s.

Can you imagine how excited you would be, if you were a 19th-century woman in a little village far from the fashion centres of America and Europe, to have well-made, on-trend clothes? There were limitations, of course: patterns only came in one size. The home sewer still had to figure out how to grade the pattern up or down according to her measurements. One of the greatest breakthroughs for the likes of me and you was the development of the graded pattern in 1863; you just cut along the lines that indicated your size. That was the start of one of the big names in patterns: Butterick.

If you recognize the name Butterick, you might know its famous sister companies: McCall and Vogue. They're all owned by the McCall Pattern Company. When sorting through the bins of $0.69 vintage patterns at the local Goodwill or Value Village, those names come up a lot.

These are very 80s, but you get my point.
Image credit: Anya Baker.
Finding older vintage patterns can be tricky. You can buy them online, but they can be expensive. The Commercial Pattern Archive outlines a number of repositories for commercial patterns: the University of Rhode Island, the Fashion Institute of Technology, the Glenbow Museum, The Fashion Museum, and even the ROM! But unless you know what you are looking for, are allowed to copy the pattern itself, and can puzzle together the sizing and expected measurements, actually using vintage patterns is more trouble than a fancy dress is worth.

Which makes the secret archives of Vogue, McCall's, and Butterick alluring. I call them secret only because I can find no information on them. But they exist; they must! Each company has a collection of 20th-century patterns conveniently resized for 21st-century measurements: Vogue's Vintage Vogue, McCall's The Archive Collection, and Butterick's Retro Style. The pattern gives its date of origin, and whether its use is courtesy of an individual or a collection outside of Vogue. Re-releasing these patterns is a magnificent union of archiving, research, adaptation, repeated commercialization, and intense public appeal.

I have a few Vintage Vogue patterns (they go on super sale to $5 every couple months) and they're incredibly beautiful. But, as with all commercial patterns--even graded ones--from their first inception to the present day, it takes a fair bit of skill to sew something close-fitted and tailored. The home sewer still has to know how to adapt a pattern to her own unique measurements and proportions.

If you want a taste of that sweet 20th-century home-sewing style without the fuss, here's a little project I worked on recently with Historic Kitchen's Leah. Look for it in her next post. To make it easy, draft your own pattern as you go; just use your measurements. Mark the outline or corners with pins or a bit of tailor's chalk and start cutting. It's based on aprons from the mid-20th century, when home-sewing was booming, commercial patterns were incredibly popular, and fashionable, decorative frills and jazzy prints were all within reach of anyone with a needle and thread. You need about a metre to a metre-and-a-half of print cotton.

Image credit: Anya Baker.







The idea is to make everything simple and boxy and then "cheat" with gathers. Measure your waist and decide how long you want your apron, and guesstimate the rest--add a button and a couple of button holes on the waistband for customized fit, and gathers along the top of the bodice so that you don't need to put in darts. You cut out two waistbands because sewing them together, one as the outside-facing waistband and one as the inner, makes it look cleaner and gives the band some weight. Same with the halter.

Decorative touches give the air of having tried hard. Image credit: Anya Baker

Bind the edges with ribbon or make bias-tape from fabric scraps. The whole thing should take you an hour if you have a sewing machine, or a couple of hours if you prefer to hand-sew while binge-watching costume dramas.

Add pockets, if you want; just cut out squares. Image credit: Anya Baker.
Leah! Image credit: Leah Moncada.






















As fast fashion has eliminated the need to sew fashionable clothes for yourself, all that might have been clear as mud to you, dear Reader. That's the weird thing about garment production in the 21st-century; commercial patterns and home sewing were the democratizing forces of 19th- and 20th-century fashion, but sewing and tailoring have become specialized skills once again. So Medieval, man!


5 February 2016

BRINGING BACK LOST CRAFTS

SEW WHAT?

BY: ANYA BAKER

If ever you need a reminder of how much fun social history can be, check out the BBC's "living history" series Tales from the Green Valley (and its subsequent series' Victorian Farm, Edwardian Farm etc.). In it, a crew of social historians and archaeologists live in a Jacobean farmhouse for a year and try to recreate the workings of the farm using their knowledge of the period and a pile of research, recipes, and theories about how things were done. Figuring out how people did things by doing them yourself can be a murky, contentious practice in this area of research; just because you managed to rig up an outhouse using period-appropriate tools does not mean that you haven't sullied the historicity of the technique with your modern knowledge and expectations about how people would or should have built something.

Luckily for you, dear Reader, I am willing to tarnish history for my own entertainment. Which brings me to Lost Crafts: Rediscovering Traditional Skills by Una McGovern. It's definitely not a how-to manual, but it does advocate that the average individual take up traditional crafts and skills for the sake of carrying that knowledge into the future, and for people's own enjoyment and entertainment. The book briefly explains the context, history, and uses of a series of crafts relating to: farming, hunting and gathering, food and drink, home and garden, practical things, and decorative things. I haven't had the opportunity to attempt "Trout Tickling" or make my own wooden clogs, but the section on decorative crafts was basically written for me.

McGovern writes that "it is only within the last 40 years or so that people have begun to think seriously about preserving and reviving these crafts before they are lost forever."

The idea of crafts being lost to history was what prompted me to begin needlework, as if I were a one-woman bulwark against the march of time and industrial production processes. Of course, I cannot single-handedly save crafting from obsolescence. No one has ever done that. Throughout history, the people making coracles probably were not also shearing sheep and blowing glass and then sitting down to work on their sewing sampler. But many of these individual skills are incredibly rewarding: think of the pride you could have in making your very own dry-stone wall! That requires having a yard, though, which is why I am sticking with two smaller-scale crafts until I find a way to move out of my apartment and take over a country estate. Here, let me teach you two, too:

Tatting


I mentioned tatting once in a museum I was working at, and discovered that all the curators were tatters, too--it must be the unofficial craft of museum professionals!

I took a bunch of blurry photos of my hands to try to illustrate how to tat, but they explained nothing. However, as McGovern advocates in Lost Crafts, finding online communities dedicated to teaching specific crafts is a great way to become part of the movement: the online tatting community is rich with explanations, free patterns, and how-to videos. From youtube user 11Frivole:


Eventually, you end up with piles of lace and can start festooning your sweaters with it.

To make this lace lay flat and look pretty, I will need to "block" it by wetting it and pinning all the little bits flat to a corkboard. Image: Anya Baker.

Cutwork Embroidery


This craft was not in Lost Crafts, but it is one that I learned to do Maker-Space style by fiddling around and wasting thread until I got it right.

To begin: thread a long embroidery needle with two strands of embroidery thread. If your material is a heavier weight, you might not need an embroidery hoop to keep the material taut. If you have a plan, good. If you have no idea what you're going to do, even better. Here, I am embroidering a pair of cuffs for a blouse.

Outline the shape you want to cut out. Image: Anya Baker.
Use the satin stitch all the way around. Keep the stitches close together to prevent the material from fraying. Image: Anya Baker.
Cut out the middle with very sharp scissors. Image: Anya Baker.
Eventually, you get this. This is the neckline of the blouse. My scissors were obviously not sharp enough, because the edges are shaggy. Sharpen your scissors!

One day I hope to do embroidery of this quality. In the meantime, happy crafting!

11 December 2015

3 PERIOD FILMS (AND 1 AMAZING TV SHOW) THAT USE COSTUME TO GIVE A SENSE OF HISTORY

SEW WHAT?

BY: ANYA BAKER

This is not going to be about Jane Austen adaptations. There are already numerous whole blog posts about why the 2005 Pride and Prejudice adaptation is a stain on costuming history.

(I disagree, but only because director Joe Wright demanded more flattering waistlines than period-appropriate empire waists, and if I were in a movie I would want my costumes to look supremely flattering, too. Fight me, 1995 BBC adaptation purists!)

Like all institutions involved in history, the film industry has to wrangle with balancing a budget, the attention span and tastes of its audience, and the ideal of an authentic pseudo-historical experience. This ideal applies more to historic houses than to science centres and art galleries, but the yearning for a connection with the past is found in almost any institution. In a museum setting, the municipal government may grouse if you start slapping the wrong colour of paint on a historic house--if you are a costume designer and you cut the wrong corners during film production you might end up skewered in a national newspaper because you put a dress with a zipper on a 15th-century queen.

I'm not fussy when it comes to accuracy in costuming; mostly, because I sympathize with being too broke to spring for the real deal, and because people who are unused to being shaped by period corsetry and foundation garments do not tend to look authentic in them. Often, accurately representing an era or a look ends up being a lot more effective than accurately reproducing it. Making an audience feel like a costume has been born out of its environment is what convinces them that the experience of the film is authentic. Some movies make my heart go pit-a-pat with their costuming choices, and these three recent movies engage so successfully with historic storytelling through costuming that I need to share them:

The Dressmaker (2015)
Image credit: Universal Pictures
My new favourite blog Clothes on Film recently did a feature on Margot Wilson and Marion Boyce, the costume designers for the new film about a 1950s dressmaker who returns to small-town Australia after working in Paris and Milan under the likes of Madame Vionnet and Cristóbal Balenciaga.

The character's role as a dressmaker, not a designer, is taken into account--her clothes therefore strongly, and expertly, reference the lead designers of the day. Key costume pieces clearly tie to a huge moment in fashion history: Christian Dior's New Look (plus the incredible fabrics made in the early part of the 20th century and and the glamorous colour palette of mid-century haute couture). Wilson mentions that securing real vintage for films is becoming difficult, because nobody fits in to pieces designed for average 1950s measurements. Even authentic-looking reproductions are difficult to create with modern fabrics. But the story of Kate Winslet's onscreen wardrobe, and its integration into the character's role as a dressmaker, is what creates the feeling of authenticity.

Costumes are displayed in a special exhibition.

Madame Bovary (2014)
Image credit: A Company Filmproduktiongesellschaft.
Christina Gasc and Valeri Ranchoux's costumes for Madame Bovary are probably the best thing about the film. They took their job of creating the most exquisite Parisian fashions a naïve 19th-century woman could buy on bad credit very seriously.

Mia Wasikowski's character stands out in her environment, but it is the stifling provincial town that generates her creative interest in the beautiful clothing imaginable. As a respectable middle-class woman, creation is outside of her prescribed abilities, so she turns to the next best avenue: patronage of the arts. It is the sort of lifestyle decision often warned against in 19th-century novels, of the rising middle class trying too hard to take on the airs of the upper class with newfound wealth--or the promise of it, in investment schemes or credit. It's also very familiar to contemporary audiences, who recognize the yearning for something a little grander and chic than what everybody else is wearing.

Bright Star (2009)
Image credit: Pathé Renn Productions.
Janet Patterson was costume designer and production designer for my favourite literary movie: the John Keats biopic Bright Star. 

In an interview with W Magazine, Patterson explains how costuming Abbie Cornish's seamstress character in the film exemplified the daring spirit of young women of any time period to experiment wildly with style. Cornish's costumes are sometimes a little weird, but they reflect a sense of reality in being so overtly curated. She may look a little out-of-place and overly done-up even by 19th-century standards, but so do contemporary fashion bloggers like the Man Repeller. To be on the cutting edge is to stand apart; it's a notion that transcends time periods and gives a sense of relatable authenticity to this Regency seamstress.

Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries (2012-present)
Image credit: Every Cloud Productions.
If I could have any movie wardrobe as my own, I would want the clothes costume designer Marion Boyce has assembled for Essie Davis in Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries. In an interview with Vanity Fair, Boyce describes the challenges of costuming a 1920s show: real vintage is too small, an "action hero" like Davis' character needs a lot of hardy multiples during shooting, and the shiny fabrics of real 1920s vintage have dulled and gone funky after nearly 100 years.

Boyce also incorporated 1920s sewing techniques into reproducing clothing: narrower rolls of cloth and a disuse of darts meant that clothing in the 1920s was often sewn from panels. Many costumes are outrageous and colourful, matching the personality of Davis' character; it is everything the audience expects from the Roaring Twenties, but also makes nods towards Boyce's research. The audience ends up delighting in how the maverick Miss Fisher manages to get away with wearing so many pantsuits.

Costumes are displayed in a special exhibition.

Costume designers who I love but did not get to write about: Sandy Powell, Jacqueline Durran (of 2005 Pride and Prejudice fame!), Eiko Ishioka, and Kate Hawley

28 November 2015

ALUMNI CHECK-IN: WHERE ARE THEY NOW?

WEEKEND EDITION

BY: ANYA BAKER

As the semester winds down and you find yourself with a free evening this week, consider checking out the upcoming alumni and student mixer at the Museum of Inuit Art on Thursday night. Not only do you "Mix with Museum Masters" all night long, but you get a tour of "Abraham Anghik Ruben: Beyond Aurora Borealis" and a chance to mingle at Shoeless Joe's afterwards. Tickets to the event can be purchased here

Networking events like this are valuable to current students and alumni alike: nothing beats talking to someone who has made the transition from student to professional and has wisdom and experience to share. And alumni get to pass on their knowledge and life experience, and make new connections with future professionals! 

However, if your research paper is keeping you glued to your library carrel, I offer you a taste of what fun you could be having at Thursday's event: since Spring, I have been contacting alumni in different stages of their careers, and five alumni from the program were kind enough to send me a mini profile of where their MMSt degree is taking them. 

Cheryl Copson (2014), Courtney Murfin (2010), Meredith Leonard (2008), Robin Etherington (1982), and Douglas Worts (1982) will tell you in their own words what they've been up to since graduation:

Name: Cheryl Copson
Graduating Year: 2014
Programme: MMSt
Where Cheryl's MMSt is taking her:
Since graduating I am volunteering at the Royal Ontario Museum in the Ethnology Department, and with the Queen’s Own Rifles of Canada Regimental Museum and Archives at Casa Loma. I am employed full-time outside the field while actively looking for a job within the museum field!


Name: Courtney Murfin
Graduating Year: 2010
Programme: MMSt
Where Courtney's MMSt is taking her:
After doing my MMSt internship in Gallery Development at the ROM, I was able to use those connections and experiences to earn a series of contract positions in Interpretive Planning. I am now a permanent Interpretive Planner at the ROM, and have worked on a huge range of projects, from the recent major exhibition, The Forbidden City: Inside the Court of China's Emperors, to the extremely interactive mining gallery and the ScopifyROM mobile app.



Name: Meredith Leonard
Graduating Year: 2008
Where Meredith's MMSt is taking her:
Meredith holds an Hons. BA in History and Political Science from McMaster University and a Master of Museum Studies degree from the University of Toronto (2008). She was the Education and Community Relations Officer at the Museum of Ontario Archaeology (at the University of Western Ontario) before going back to school to pursue a Master of Science in Adolescence Education from D’Youville College in Buffalo, New York. 

Combining her museum studies and education backgrounds, she was the Curator for Programming and Exhibitions at Fort Erie Museum Services before beginning her current position as Visitor Services Coordinator at St. Catharines Museum and Welland Canals Centre. Passionate about education and community engagement, Meredith is one of the founders of the St. Catharines Museum’s award-winning pop-up museum series, aMUSE. She is active within the Museums of Niagara Association as well as the Ontario Museums Association and just recently returned from the Getty Leadership Institute in Claremont, California, where she was a Fellow at GLI’s NextGen Leadership Program.

Name: Robin Etherington MA, M.LPW, CMM III
Graduating Year: 1982
Programme: Museum Studies
Where Robin's MMSt is taking her:
I have been exceptionally lucky. My career has taken me to international work, i.e. Mexico, and across Canada. I worked at an anthropology museum at the national university of Mexico (UNAM). I returned to Canada and have worked in such wonderful museums as the ROM, the GlenbowMuseum, Guelph Museums and MUSÉE BYTOWN MUSEUM, as well served as served as Manager of Heritage & Culture in Kingston and worked for Canadian Heritage Information Network (CHIN). And I also worked for Nortel Networks as a technical communicator. All positions taught me a great deal and I have had the joy of knowing a number of provinces of Canada and making friends. That results in a remarkable network of friends and colleagues to consult with. I have managed museum and cultural resources for several years - each museum or situation entails unique challenges and opportunities. 

Throughout my career, I have also volunteered, sitting on committees and Boards, teaching and even just taking tickets at arts festivals. Volunteering is a means to contribute to your community and to enhance your network. As you are graduating, the challenges to manage museums, libraries, archives and cultural heritage resources in a global and knowledge-based economy and society will bring you tremendous learning and cultural opportunities.


Name: Douglas Worts
Graduating Year: 1982
Programme: I came into the Museum Studies Program through Art History
Where Douglas' MMSt is taking him:
​I was one of the fortunate ones to get a full-time job at a major museum right after graduation. I had a 25 year run at the Art Gallery of Ontario, where my duties over the years included docent training/management, exhibit development, development and testing of interpretive strategies, educational technologies (video, audio, computers and web) audience research and interpretive planning. I have published extensively in museological literature on issues related to museum education, audience research, interpretive planning and, most recently, in the area of 'museums and culture in the winds of change’. My current work focuses on the potential of museums to play a catalytic role in fostering a ‘culture of sustainability’. In 2014 I was honoured to be the first scholar-in-residence (museum studies) at the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum Research Center, in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

13 November 2015

TROUSSEAUS AND VINTAGE SEWING MANUALS, AND THE SOCIETAL EXPECTATIONS THEY PERPETUATE

BY: ANYA BAKER

I bought my first sewing manual in a little antique shop in small-town Southern Ontario--Dorothy Moore's Pattern Drafting and Dressmaking, 1968, drew me in with its groovy, groovy cover and $3 price tag.


That anecdote was a false start, because the only reason I bring up sewing manuals at all is to introduce you to the jewel of my antique sewing guide collection: Sewing Made Easy by Mary Lynch, 1950.

Moreover, the only reason I bring up Sewing Made Easy is because it is a goldmine of information on prescribed dress practices for women in the mid-twentieth century. I say "prescribed" because sections of the book read like contemporary "Fashion Police" columns, outlining the faults of different figure types and the means of rectifying them through dress. According to the book's diagrams, I am "pear-shaped," and so I was disconcerted and a little peeved to read: 'that "hippy" look is the saddest thing in life' (p. 17). Sixty-five years after this book was published, this sentiment is eerily similar to judgment I've read in contemporary fashion magazines. Intense scrutiny still lingers on women and their aesthetic choices, and numerous industries benefit from pushing onto consumers the products and fashions that uphold prescribed notions of how women ought to be appear.

Tall women can wear the "striking, unusual clothes shown in fashion magazines" (p. 15) but not tall hats, apparently.
From Sewing Made Easy, 1950. 

But, flipping through this 1950s version of "What Not to Wear," I was struck with one thing that has changed: the concept of preparing a trousseau. The process of preparing a trousseau, as described in Sewing Made Easy, is when a woman (or her mother) collects a bunch of personal items, linens, and household items in the expectation of the woman's future wedding. Trousseaus were popular in 19th-century Europe among the middle and upper classes. Home Dressmaking--A Complete Guide to Household Sewing by Annie E. Meyers, 1892, suggests that for "a young woman in moderate circumstance, moving in a modest circle of society," they be designed to contain "just enough clothing to last the bride one year, at the furthest," as the "old fashion of stocking a bride with clothes enough to last her the remainder of her natural life has passed into history" (p. 213). Meyers suggests (p. 214):

- 6 night dresses
- 6 drawers, undervests, corset-covers and dressing sacques
- 6 petticoats (one being black silk, two of them being short flannels)
- 6 pairs of hose
- 2 pairs of walking boots
- 2 pairs of house shoes
- 6-10 pairs of gloves
- unlimited handkerchiefs
- 3 wraps for different seasons
- 3 hats of varying levels of fanciness
- 2 woollen street dresses
- one evening dress
- 2 house dresses
- 1 wrapper
- 1 teagown

When I was a teenager, my mother would occasionally joke that she was putting something like a kettle or some sheets in my "hope chest" for when I moved out. The driving force behind my moving--the "hope" part of the "hope chest"--was always understood as the university education I was working towards. In reading these seemingly innocuous manuals about stitches and how to sew a hem, it is impossible to overlook pointed reminders that marriage and wifehood was a woman's inevitable role. Presumably, these trousseau lists are a reflection of what women wanted to read, but in providing authoritative guidance these books also justifies the presumed need for such advice in the first place. Especially when presented alongside prescribed standards of dress, this casual governance of women and their bodies is uncomfortable. These are the eras that are so readily romanticized in contemporary entertainment (i.e. Austen- and Brontë-mania, Mad Men, etc.), and whose fashions are constantly recycled and held up as idealized visions of femininity in women's wear (for example, Raf Simon's entire tenure as creative director of Dior).

I wasn't expecting a mid-century book to be exceptionally progressive or match contemporary marketing tastes for subliminal, rather than overt, societal messaging. It did force me, though, to reflect critically on women in society and the forces that pressure us into conforming to certain aesthetics, when I was just looking for instructions on how to set a sleeve in its armhole. Sewing Made Easy is slightly less condescending in its recommendations than Home Dressmaking; Lynch focuses on the materiality of the garments (useful for a sewer!) and the chapter is geared towards building a wardrobe (sensible!). Still, it prefaces the useful bits of the book with overt reminders that the sole purpose of all this sewing is to look a certain way and follow predetermined social roles. My disappointment with this isn't so much a criticism as an acknowledgement that fashion history is not all satin and lace.

I know you just want to know what a 1950s housewife requires in her underwear drawer (Lynch appears to recognize that unmarried women also wear clothes, and so her general wardrobe advice does not assume marital status), so in closing, here are Lynch's suggestions for a trousseau from Sewing Made Easy (p. 250):

- tailored slips, nightgowns, panties, pajamas, and bed jacket (of nylon silk, rayon or cotton)
- lace-trimmed or embroidered slips, nightgowns, panties, and bed jacket (of rayon, nylon, silk, or sheer cotton)
- full-length evening slip (of nylon, rayon, or silk)
- tailored hostess gown and house coat (of cotton, quilted cotton, wool, or corduroy)
- dress-up hostess gown, house coat, and negligee (of silk, rayon, velvet, or sheer wool)
- lounging pajamas ["...if you're the type who looks glamorous in them" (p. 250)!]
- bathrobe (terry cloth, candlewick cotton, or wool)
- brassières (of cotton, rayon, nylon, net, or lace)

Sources:
Lynch, Mary. Sewing Made Easy. USA: Nelson Doubleday, 1950.
Meyers, Annie E. Home Dressmaking--A Complete Guide to Household Sewing. Chicago: Charles H. Sergel & Company, 1892.