Showing posts with label Casarina Hocevar. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Casarina Hocevar. Show all posts

9 April 2019

FINDING FOODWAYS, PART III.

Research Column | Casarina Hocevar


For the last installation of this research column, I would like to touch upon some of the challenges of historical research. The challenges of researching can be both frustrating and thrilling. For example, the availability of information may have us swinging between an overabundance of materials to absolute dead ends, leaving the research process inconsistent and difficult. This urges us, as researchers, to be careful notetakers, well organized and creative in how we go about our next avenue of inquiry. But as research comes together like pieces in a puzzle, it can lead to satisfying and exciting results, assuring us that the effort was worth it all along. The following will illustrate an example of this process from my research for Storefront Stories.

Missing Percy’s

As part of Storefront Stories, we have 9 participating businesses in Kensington Market that will feature a poster with information of a historical Jewish-owned storefront once located at their same address, with an additional 11 businesses featured online. Dividing the 20 businesses between myself and my teammates, we each wrote the narratives to a selection of storefronts. Some storefronts focus on stories of immigration, others on the success of the business, and others on more intimate family details. Our narratives have largely been informed by materials available at the Ontario Jewish Archives (OJA), but have also been supplemented by additional research from the field of Jewish Studies, history and through resources available at the City of Toronto Archives and various media outlets. Our goal is to illuminate a concise and engaging history of these storefronts to the best our ability, while respecting the limitations of available materials. 

One of the storefronts I was paired with is located at 234 Augusta Ave., where today Dolce Gelato stands. Initially, the photograph I was working with was an image of “Percy’s Fruit” - a Jewish grocery shop from mid-century Kensington Market. In the archive, the image was dated from 1959. As I began researching its history, I only found dead ends - there never seemed to be any trace of a Percy’s Fruit at 234 Augusta Ave in 1959. Shifting strategies, I searched through city directories to see if the image was perhaps incorrectly dated.


Image used with permission from the Ontario Jewish Archives: Percy's Fruit Market, Augusta Avenue and Nassau Street, 16 May 1959. Ontario Jewish Archives, Blankenstein Family Heritage Centre, fonds 18, series 2, item 2.

What I found throughout the directories were listings for different shops at 234 Augusta Ave, not Percy's Fruit. From the earliest entry in the directory until the early 1930s, there were butcher shops at 234 Augusta Ave. Then in the late 30s, Joe’s Fruit Market appears in that exact location, and remains listed for several decades. According to the city directory records, which are available through the Toronto Public Library, the information accompanying the archival image of Percy’s Fruit (e.g. date/location) did not match with the information in the directories, prompting me to reconsider whether the information I had for Percy's was even correct.

Comparing Images

Returning to the image of Percy’s Fruit, I enlarged the image and began noting the structure of the building: the roof’s slant, the location of the windows, any trimmings, etc. Then I googled 234 Augusta Ave., opened up Google Street View and compared the contemporary building to that of Percy’s. They were not the same building. Is it possible that in the 60 years that passed between this photograph of Percy’s Fruit and Dolce Gelato, the building may have changed? -Sure! However, considering there was no mention of Percy's Fruit at 234 Augusta Ave. in the city directories, I was doubtful this image belonged.

Curious, I searched for images of Joe’s Fruit Market. I was able to locate a couple within the City of Toronto Archives, whose building looked very similar to that of today’s Dolce Gelato. Noting that, I returned to the 1959 City Directory to see if a Percy’s Fruit was located elsewhere in Kensington Market. I was able to find a Percy’s Fruit listed nearby 234 Augusta Ave., with Joe’s Fruit Market at 234. Following that, I returned to the map of Kensington and began comparing the building that is listed in the 1959 directory for Percy’s to the image I had of the grocery shop. Save for a few modern updates, the two buildings - that featured on Google Maps and that of the archival image - were the same.

Conclusions

In short, after several winding research paths, I assumed the following:
  • - 234 Augusta Ave. had previously been home to multiple Jewish butcher shops in its earliest days
  • - In the late 1930s, Joe’s Fruit Market moved into 234 Augusta, where it remained until the 1970s
  • - Percy’s Fruit Market was located nearby 234 Augusta

After some consultation with my teammates and with OJA, we concluded that my research was likely correct, and unfortunately, Percy’s Fruit had been incorrectly labelled. For the purposes of our exhibition, we decided to discard the image of Percy’s for the poster, but inquired further into the story of Joe’s Fruit Market. Thankfully - and still with a couple more archival hiccups - we were able to provide a narrative of Joe’s Fruit Market, that will be featured on the exhibition poster at 234 Augusta Ave. this May.

This nugget of research has a bittersweet end. In many ways, it was satisfying as it still led me to a story I can share through the exhibition. However, I am disappointed I was never able to locate more information about Percy’s Fruit. While I found the correct address and its approximate dates of operation, the story behind the grocery shop remains largely a mystery. As researchers and museum practitioners, there are moments we need to recognize when to close one door, so we can open another: in this case, the door to Percy’s Fruit closed, while another to Joe’s Fruit Market was opened.

12 March 2019

FINDING FOODWAYS, PART II.

Research Column | Casarina Hocevar


In my last post, I introduced my upcoming exhibition project, Storefront Stories, and shared a bit about my research into the historical Jewish foodways of Kensington Market. In today’s post, we shall delve into a small tidbit from the research.

Communal Ovens

Perhaps one of my favourite things I have learned in researching Kensington’s Jewish history is a small anecdote about the use of communal ovens. Throughout the 19th and early 20th century, it was common practice in the shtetlekh - villages - of Eastern Europe to use communal ovens to prepare meals for Sabbath. One of my favourite historians of Jewish foodways, Hasia Diner, writes eloquently about the importance of food and food preparation in Jewish life, especially celebratory meals:

The Jewish calendar moved from holiday to holiday, from Sabbath to the six days of the work week, from one life cycle to another, along a food trajectory … The Sabbath meals, three of them…stood out from the weekly food cycle for their richness and elaborateness. …Memoirs of Jewish life in eastern Europe recalled chicken soup, roasted meat, gefillte fish, tcholent (a mixture of beans, meats, potatoes, other vegetables) cooked long and slow, usually in communal ovens, and cakes and fruits, as the embodiment of Jewish family and communal life. - Hasia Diner, Hungering for America, 155 - 156.

As noted in Diner’s quote, meals like tcholent were cooked in a communal oven. Tcholent, similar to a slow-simmering stew, often was cooked overnight to be ready for the lunch/midday meal during Sabbath.

While searching for photographs and information about family businesses in Kensington Market for the exhibition, our team came across the accession file to the Lottman family who ran a bakery at 172 Baldwin St from the 1920s to '40s (and later at 181 Baldwin St. until 1984). In this file there is a note that reads, “[the bakery] had a brick oven and on Friday nights women would bring their pots to keep the chollent warm for the Sa[b]bath.” This short and sweet note indicates to us continuity in Jewish foodways from Eastern Europe shtetlekh to the little Jewish Market in early Toronto: the community followed a weekly routine of observing Sabbath, and to facilitate this, one of the neighbourhood bakeries shared their oven for communal cooking.

Unfortunately, at this stage of our research, we have little evidence or information about whether other bakeries in the market also participated in this practice or which women (and families) would have visited the Lottman bakery to leave their chollent overnight. Nonetheless, small moments like this help illustrate to us some aspect of the market’s foodways: weekly routines (preparing for the Sabbath meals), types of food (tcholent/chollent), division of labour (communal and gendered) and the geography (Lottman’s as a site of communal food production).

A glimpse into the past

Below are two family images of the Lottman's bakery at 172 Baldwin St. In the first: the three women are identified as Sandy Shabinsky, Katie Lottman Grossman, Ruth Berman, in the second: Bella Tichberg and her cousin Henry. Katie Lottman Grossman was Sam Lottman's daughter, who was one of the founders and owners of the bakery, and Bella Tichberg is one of his granddaughters. Later family photos include interior shots from the Lottman bakery and their more industrial kitchen; unfortunately, though, we have no known existing photographs of the original Lottman oven used for communal cooking.

The Lottman family's bakery is one of the businesses to be featured in Storefront Stories.


Permission to use from the Ontario Jewish Archives: “Lottman family,” Ontario Jewish Archives, North York, ON. Accession number: 2013-11-2.

Permission to use from the Ontario Jewish Archives: “Lottman family,” Ontario Jewish Archives, North York, ON. Accession number: 2013-11-2.


13 February 2019

FINDING FOODWAYS, PART I.

Research Column | Casarina Hocevar


This semester, I am taking over Musings’ Research Column to share a bit about my personal research and upcoming exhibition project. Ideally, this column will touch upon both the exciting and woeful moments of historical research - from archival photos to tricky translations and many winding paths in-between...and of course, give some insight into a Museum Studies student’s research!


A peek into an archival box from the Ontario Jewish Archives. Photo courtesy of Casarina Hocevar.


Exhibition Project/Research Scope

Last semester, I delved into two intersecting projects. The first is my MMSt exhibition project, Storefront Stories, co-curated with fellow Museum Studies candidates Amy, Evelyn, and Erica, for the Ontario Jewish Archives (OJA). Our project investigates and shares Kensington Market’s Jewish history through the lens of archival storefront photographs. Through the creation of our poster exhibition and website, we aim to explore Jewish life in the Market during the early 20th Century. The exhibition will use the photographs as a springboard into themes about the market’s culture, including intellectual and political life, Jewish foodways, immigration, trade and commerce, and the neighbourhood’s community.





Welcome to the instagram of Ontario Jewish Archives! Over the next couple of months, University of Toronto Museum Studies students, Casarina, Amy, Erica and Evelyn will be posting about the upcoming OJA exhibition, "Storefront Stories." . Since October, we've been busy planning, designing and researching our exhibition about Kensington Market's early Jewish history. The exhibit intends to feature approximately 12 posters with information about the unique stories of past Kensington businesses and Jewish life. . We're delighted to start the next stage of our project this week. We'll be heading into the market to connect with business owners as potential participants in the exhibition. Participating businesses will showcase a poster featuring a photo of their historic storefront and story. . . . Continue to follow us here for exhibition updates and developments. ✨
A post shared by Ontario Jewish Archives (@ontariojewisharchives) on


The second project is a historical investigation of Jewish foodways in Kensington Market. This project began with a research proposal for a history course I took last semester, “The History of Food and Drink,” and has since evolved into an ongoing personal project as a way to bolster my knowledge about Kensington Market, (im)migrant foodways, and local Jewish history. (I will also be sharing some of this research at the upcoming McGill-Queen’s Graduate History Conference in March.) Through compiling, reading and interpreting a combination of primary and secondary sources, I have been slowly noting the early foodways of the Market. Primary sources used are those normally accessed at the OJA or City of Toronto Archives, such as photographs, menus, business directories, newspaper clippings, etc. While the secondary sources available come from a range of fields, including Jewish studies, food studies, geography, diaspora studies, and history.

So...why - and what are - foodways?

While Storefront Stories is not an exhibition about Kensington Market’s Jewish foodways per se, my interest and pursuit of foodways research undeniably connects to the exhibition’s broad themes. Food studies (and more specifically for me, food history) aims to understand how food, and food practices, impacts our lives. This can include both our intimate relationships with food (e.g. how we conceptualize our identities and those of others through food practices) to more public and global food topics, such as the role of restaurants in gentrification, or say the commodification and trade of food items - coffee beans, wheat, or bananas.

“Foodways” refers to more specific practices associated with people in a given place and/or period (e.g. Japanese foodways in the 19th Century, or the foodways of British colonists in India, or Palestinian foodways in the diaspora). So, in the context of my research, by focusing upon Jewish foodways in Kensington Market, I can better contextualize a range of information, including: the popularity of certain types of establishments (e.g. kosher delis), the sensory experience of the Market (what would one smell or taste or hear throughout the Market in the early 20th Century?), and, the role of gender in private and public spaces (who prepared, purchased, and served food goods in the neighbourhood?)... all of which helps to better inform us about life in early Kensington Market.

As the semester progresses, keep your eye out for future posts in this series which will highlight some of my research developments!

13 July 2018

IT'S FRIDA FRIDAY

FLASHBACK FRIDAY

BY: CASARINA HOCEVAR

This week’s #FlashbackFriday is turning into #FridaFriday, to honour one of my favourite historical ladies, Frida Kahlo. Given last Friday, July 6th was Kahlo’s birthday, and today marks the 64th anniversary of her death, the timing coincides well for #FridaFriday. Frida's image is continually replicated in art and pop culture. The colourful outfits, elaborately braided hair, and unibrow matched together on t-shirts, earrings, in street art, as costumes and as fashion-inspiration, are familiar tributes to her recognizable imagery. However, despite her repetitive cultural image, the details of her life and the narratives weaved into her art are often overlooked. This #FlashbackFriday hopes to illustrate a bit more about this revolutionary lady.



Born in Coyoacán (Mexico City) on July 6th, 1907 as Magdalena Carmen Frida Kahlo Calderón, Frida grew up with her father, Guillermo (Wilhelm), her mother, Matilde, and her three sisters, Matilde, Adriana, and Cristina. Frida also had two elder, half-sisters from her father’s first marriage. Due to financial difficulties and ongoing health issues, Frida’s early life was turbulent. Throughout those years, both her parents had health problems that disrupted the steadiness of their life. At the age of six, Frida was diagnosed with polio, the result of which would be the imbalance in her legs, delayed education, and bullying by peers.

Yet, despite these trails, Frida was an active, curious and energetic girl, and at times, rebellious. As part of her polio recovery, she became physically active, despite the unusualness for girls to be playing sports. She enjoyed aiding her father with his photography, and was known to carry a tense relationship with her devout mother as she skipped out on her catechism. She excelled at school, and intended to study medicine. Throughout her teens, she became politically conscious and active. Meanwhile, she also engaged herself in drawing, poetry, and worked for a family friend, as an engraver’s apprentice.

In September of 1925, Frida and her long-time boyfriend, Alejandro Gómez Arias, were in a severe bus accident, resulting in Frida being bedridden for several months. The injuries would prove to have life-altering consequences, as three of her spinal discs were dislocated, and numerous bones had been fractured. The pain, and the time and money spent in recovery, would limit her educational pursuits and further distressed the struggle of the Kahlo Calderón family. Even with her recovery, the impact of her injuries would linger onward throughout her life.

While Frida was still recovering, she quickly resumed working, concerned for her family. It would be in this new period, her relationship with Diego Rivera would blossom (they had previously met on brief occasions in her teens). A seemingly unlikely couple, Rivera reportedly admired and respected Kahlo’s opinion; Kahlo was intently interested in Rivera’s work and politics. They married in 1929, divorced in 1939 and remarried again a year later. Their relationship was rocky and emotionally intense, as Rivera’s infamous womanizing continued, Kahlo suffered from multiple miscarriages and the couple moved throughout the United States.


Kahlo also engaged in her own extramarital affairs (including purported affairs with Georgia O’Keefe and later, Leon Trotsky), throughout both marriages, and continued to remain politically active in spite of her health problems. Regardless of her turbulent life, Frida seemed inexhaustible in her work, politics and personal life, which were often entangled.





Frida was an active member of the Communist Party, and her politics, like her relationships, were illustrated throughout her paintings. Notably, her and Rivera, hosted Leon Trotsky and his wife, Natalia, while they sought asylum. Her political consciousness continued up until her death, where she participated in a political march only a couple weeks before her death, despite her poor health.

The latter years of her life were marked with increasingly persistent health complications, which contributed to bouts of depression and anxiety. In 1953, her right leg was amputated due to infection, commencing a downward period in her mental well-being before her death on July 13th of 1954.




Frida’s legacy is vibrant with her dedication to Mexico, her experimentation in personal style, both in fashion and in art, her prolific letter writing, her integration of ex-votos, portraiture and still life, political activism and of course, her passionate love.

Frida's life has been written about extensively. Her home in Mexico City, known as the Blue House was made into a museum and is still open today for guests to visit.

15 June 2018

MEMORY X MURALS

FLASHBACK FRIDAY

BY: CASARINA HOCEVAR

This summer I have been working with the Scarborough-based non-profit, Mural Routes, in documenting mural projects around the Greater Toronto Area into one comprehensive archive. Due to their rather temporal state - and the fact I haven’t lived in Toronto since its earliest commercial murals of the late 19th Century - creating a comprehensive archive of all the city’s murals has been a bit of tricky task. But it has also prompted some interesting reflections on how murals echo both private and public memories. This week’s Flashback Friday will unravel how local history is embedded in our city’s public artwork.

"Bomb Girls" by OMEN in collaboration with StreetARToronto and Mural Routes, near Warden x St. Clair East in Scarborough. 2014. Photo courtesy of Mural Routes. 

In many murals, especially those commissioned by the city or in partnerships with local BIA (Business Improvement Area), the themes and content of murals explicitly relay “heritage moments” or local legacies. A clear example of this can be found from the 1990s, when Mural Routes commenced their first series of murals along Kingston Road in Scarborough known as the Heritage Trail. Another example would be the several murals done by John Kuna for the Village of Islington BIA in Etobicoke from 2005 to 2014. These murals feature a range of characters and activities from Islington’s past, from families tobogganing to The Guelph Radial Line to local church communities. Such murals serve as tributes to the past, becoming a visual representation of collective community memories.

However, many of Toronto’s murals were not meant to be historical in nature, yet, their memory in the minds of local residents exist as landmarks of the city’s past. This is particularly evident amongst some of Toronto’s commercial murals. Until a few years ago, when the Church Street Mural Project added several new murals to the Church and Wellesley community, a large Molson Canadian advertisement was featured on Church Street as a mural known colloquially as The Gay Cowboys. Despite its obvious commercial purposes, the mural was recognized as a landmark in a generation of Toronto’s gay community. Recently, when Mural Routes’ held their archive exhibit at 389 Yonge St., several residents of the Church-Wellesley area shared their memories of the Gay Cowboys, revealing that in spite of its loss, the mural lingers in memory as part of the neighbourhood’s historical character.

Alternatively, many contemporary murals which aim to capture the diversity of Toronto’s communities (and perhaps, also tackle the lack of representation in Toronto’s public art) remind us of the multitude of intersecting communities that contribute to its vibrancy. For example, In July 2017, Parkdale held the event Women Paint, organized by Bareket Kezwer and StreetARToronto, where muralists came together to paint their unique and contrasting narratives of being womxn.




Concurrently, other muralists, such as Philip Cote have been injecting the mural scene with art representing Indigenous history and culture. Last summer, Cote finished a mural near Old Mill Subway Station which illustrates Indigenous knowledge, that has been preserved through oral histories. Such projects are laced with narratives of the Toronto region, both contemporary and historical, which indeed beautifully draw attention to a multifaceted, complex urban identity that is often lost in the haze of gray buildings and in our hustling commutes.





Then, within the production and life of a mural, lies another source of memory. Some murals have become iconic features to Toronto, recognizable to city dwellers across demographics. The Rainbow Tunnel in the Don Valley Parkway (DVP) is an excellent example of this. Visible from the highway, a pedestrian tunnel is vibrantly painted as a rainbow - ensuring pass-byers of its visibility regardless of the time of year. First painted in the 1970s by Bc Johnson, community members came together to restore the mural in 2012-2013, thus, sharing in a collective effort to preserve its mural memory. This Saturday, June 16th, Mural Routes will be completing touch-ups on Rainbow Tunnel as maintenance.





Rainbow Tunnel undergoing its restoration in 2012-2013. Photos courtesy of Mural Routes' Archive.

While the intentions and longevity of murals differ greatly, they share a common connection to community memory. Murals engage audiences with their surroundings, provoke new ideas to recollect, and stir our consciousness of another time.

18 May 2018

THE EVER ENDURING CASE OF TULIPMANIA

FLASHBACK FRIDAY

BY: CASARINA HOCEVAR

Abbotsford Tulip Festival, April 2018. Photo courtesy of Casarina Hocevar. 
This week marks the beginning of Ottawa’s famous annual Tulip Festival. So in celebration of Spring, our Flashback Friday will delve into the history and heritage of the tulip festival.

A little history…

In 1953, Ottawa hosted its first tulip festival at the suggestion of photographer Malak Karsh (brother of Yousuf Karsh). The choice of flower was symbolic: 100,000 tulip bulbs were given to Ottawa by the Netherlands at the end of WWII, as a gesture of thanks, friendship, and peace.

Throughout the Second World War, Ottawa hosted the Dutch royal family while the Netherlands faced invasion and occupation. Princess Juliana, who was the only child (and heir) to Queen Wilhelmina, gave birth to her daughter in the Ottawa Civic Hospital, in January 1943. Part of the hospital was given temporary “extraterritorial” status in the city, thus, allowing the newborn Princess Margriet Francisca to receive Dutch citizenship. The family remained in Ottawa for four years, until the Netherlands was liberated from Nazi forces in 1945.

Shortly after, Princess Juliana arranged the 100,000 bulbs to be given to the capital as a gift, with additional bulbs being sent each year after, known as “the Tulip Legacy.”

A little more history…

While Canadian-Dutch relations provide us a foundation for understanding the origins of Ottawa’s tulip festival, the contemporary craze for tulips isn’t particularly new.

Wood engraving by Conrad Gesner, 1561. Source.
In the 16th Century, tulips were introduced to the Dutch from the Ottoman Empire. Their vibrant colours and rarity sparked great interest. This interest soon became an obsessive fascination shared widely in Dutch society by the 1630s. The desire grew so intense that tulips became a form of currency, creating a unique economic bubble which drove the price of tulip bulbs to unreasonable ranges. Unsurprisingly, the “tulipmania” bubble broke near the end of the 1630s, resulting in a market crash.

As professor Anne Goldgar notes throughout her book, Tulipmania, the legacy of tulipmania has been written and researched about extensively in articles, novels, and plays, telling us of the enduring public fascination for tulipmania. Of course, the fascination in tulipmania’s legacy is not simply in the beauty of the flowers themselves, but in the way in which the flowers influenced a society so deeply.

From 17th Century Dutch markets to the 18th Century Ottoman court, tulips once again become an icon for luxury and consumption. During what was known as the Ottoman Empire’s Tulip Period - an era of economic growth and increased material consumption - tulips appeared in prints, textiles, paintings and throughout markets and gardens. And as with the Dutch tulipmania, tulips in the Ottoman empire also saw rocketing prices for bulbs and flower orders, until state regulation was enforced on the market. Once again, tulips proved to have a captivating essence...

16th Century Ottoman textile featuring tulip design. Source.

Contemporary tulipmania…

While today’s tulipmania has not caused any recent market crashes, it certainly seems to captivate the spaces and imaginations of social media users. Social media has certainly made it easier for flower festivals and their visitors to relish in the beauty a little longer. Below are some posts made by festivals organizers and visitors worldwide.

Tulip festivals across Canada:

Ottawa, ON: May 11th - 21st



Abbotsford, BC: April 9th - mid-May



Tulip festivals worldwide:

Keukenhof Holland, Netherlands: March 22nd - May 13th



Istanbul, Turkey: April 1st - 30th

A post shared by Evgeniya Yüksel (@jenny_xel) on


Holland, Michigan: May 5th - 13th

A post shared by Tulip Time Festival (@tulip_time) on


Srinagar, Kashmir, India: March 25th - April 15th

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Tesselaar (Melbourne), Australia: October 8th - 14th

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