A good place to start is with an event run by students. After all, students know what students like, right? Enter Victor Bongiovanni, a McGill student who is also part of the team behind Booty Bakery, a Thursday night bash that takes place every week at the popular, Blue Dog Motel.

Since we’re both students who engage in way too much extracurricular activity, Bongiovanni and I didn’t have time to meet up face to face, so we took advantage of social media for a quick interview.

The McGill Daily (MD): So Victor, how and when did you start DJing? Where have you played, and how did you get started on Booty Bakery?

Victor Bongiovanni (VB): I started DJing more seriously this summer with some friends and started getting a couple gigs regularly. I mostly play at Velvet in the old port, Booty Bakery, and afterparties. Phil Sparkz, Compton Chic and I originally played an all-nighter loft party on thursday nights called Sanctuary. My favorite memory of that time was having Teki Latex play with us till the late AM. Booty Bakery was just the natural progression from Sanctuary.

MD: What music have you been listening to and playing lately? Any Montreal artists you’re particularly into right now?

VB: I’ve actually been listening to a lot of Montreal music lately. You just have to look at Montreal’s presence at SXSW to realise how bubbling the city is at the moment. From beatmakers like Kaytradamus of the artbeat crew, to D’eon who’s new album is dropping very soon, as well as Grimes and Mozart’s Sister. What we play at Booty Bakery is a bit different though…

MD: What does Booty Bakery offer to students? How does it add to Montreal student nightlife?

VB: If you’re into sizzurp, bass music and booty, you should come to Booty Bakery. Booty Bakery offers students the opportunity to fulfill their natural need to twerk.

MD: What artists have you guys hosted at Booty Bakery? What can attendees expect this week? Tell us a little bit about your guest artists?

VB: In the past we’ve had artists like French Fries, Bambounou, Full Crate, Kaytradamus, Jokers Of The Scene, Boomclap Soundcrew, Lol Boys, Sleepyhead, Sibian & Faun, ESL & Nasty FM, Artbeat Crew and many more. This week is going to be ridiculous. Nguzunguzu & Salva are flying in Thursday from LA to show us how it’s done. One half of Nguzunguzu, DJ Asma, is M.I.A’s tour DJ. Two halves of Nguzunguzu is a whole experience. Salva is an LA producer and DJ head of the Frite Nite Record Label. Things should get pretty naughty.

MD: What are the future plans for Booty Bakery?

VB: We’re going to keep it going for a while but we’re planning something big in October. Stay tuned.

Check out Victor Bongiovanni and Booty Bakery Thursday nights at The Blue Dog Motel (3958 St. Laurent).

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While the story itself sounded worthwhile, it was the palpable buzz surrounding the film that brought me down to the Concordia campus to see Weekend. After all, a movie that has collected awards and nominations at the likes of the South by Southwest Film Conference and Festival is not to be missed. This same hype is simultaneously an important indicator of the film’s  representation of queer cinema.

Of course, this isn’t the first film with a queer narrative that has garnered mainstream attention, Brokeback Mountain and Milk received Oscars. Both of these examples, however, approach homosexuality in historical, and highly dramatized, contexts. As a result, the relationships they portray feel removed from quotidian contemporary life. It’s much rarer to see widespread critical accolades for a film that presents same sex relations in a generally unexceptional light.

This is not to say that Weekend is completely devoid of the particular Hollywood tropes of a plot centered on homosexual interactions. There were, of course, meditations on the significance of the coming out process, as well as a rather standard binary between a character who is comfortable with his sexuality and one who is less so. However, as an audience member, none of these felt like the focal point of the film. Rather, the key element seemed to be the simple narrative of two individuals navigating the tenuous trails of intimacy and attachment.

It’s this realistic story line that, for me, was the film’s strong suit. So often, the queer representations I have seen in film, and other media, seem exceedingly distant from my own queer experience. If I had a dime for every time I’ve watched Will & Grace and felt perplexed, alienated, and perhaps a little insulted… Well, you get the picture. I felt a refreshing ability to relate to the characters and, in several instances, found that the film’s scenarios came surprisingly close to instances from my own life.

The notable realism of the narrative was accentuated by the films cinematographic and directorial style. The distinct rawness of the aesthetic enhanced the everyday nature of the plot line. The dialogue, too, was highly naturalistic, and the nuances of Cullen and New’s performances were laudable.

While the film’s realism was unquestionably a large part of its appeal, and represents a positive change in the positioning of queer cinema, it also beckons the question of what responsibility queer filmmakers actually have. The film’s level-handed representation of a queer narrative shows a new comfort with same sex relationships as a normalized part of society. However, with this acceptance also comes the risk of apathy. Real stories about lived experience are certainly important, but can also make it easy to forget that these are the stories of groups who are, in many cases, still marginalized.

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Maisonneuve is a Montreal-based quarterly magazine, which publishes a diverse range of news and arts coverage. The launch for their latest issue, which will be held at La Sala Rossa on October 11, promises to be an exciting event. It will break the typical mould of what we’ve all come to expect from a magazine launch. Subdued recitations will be traded in for seven-minute power readings, and polite applause will be replaced by the pointed critiques of a three-member judging panel.

This is all a part of the LDM (Literary Death Match) model. LDM began in New York City and has since expanded throughout North America and Europe. The first round of the competition sees the participants judged based on the quality of their performances. But then comes the finale, which, according to a press release from Maisonneuve, is “a culmination of all things funny and ridiculous.”

But you’ll have to show up to find out just what these audacious antics will entail. If all this intrigue isn’t temptation enough, perhaps the promise of a free issue of the magazine with your ticket will help to pack the house with the literarily-inclined.

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“It’s been the creative direction’s mandate to open up to include other forms of entertainment and amusement for the festival goers,” said Stephanie Bokenfohr, a director and curator for this year’s Art POP segment, in a phone interview with The Daily. The idea of supplementing the music festival appears to be a significant motivation behind Art POP’s composition. “Basically every crack, corner of the festival – we artify it,” Bokenfohr explained with a laugh.

The proliferation of visual stimuli that Art POP brings to POP venues not only provides attendees a welcome entertainment between musical acts, but in many instances also serves to enhance the viewers’ experience of the music they encounter. For example, one of the art shows Bokenfohr expressed the most excitement about features work by members and affiliates of the band the Raincoats, who are playing at this year’s festival. “The show is a collection of works and memories dating from 1977 to 2011,” explained Bokenfohr. The exhibit features works in a variety of mediums by vocalist and guitarist Ana da Silva, and videos created by the band’s bassist, Gina Burch. It also includes photography by the band’s long-time manager Shirley O’Loughlin, along with a variety of other pieces she provided, such as scans of letters responding to the band’s music by Kurt Cobain. “It’s really really really touching,” Bokenfohr emphasized.

Another show to keep an eye on include an exhibit focusing on new media and sound art opening on Friday at La Société des arts technologiques. “We have the Montreal sound map, which is a collection of field recordings,” described Bokenfohr. “Sound artists have this bank that has been going on and on, keeping a record of the city and the sounds that come out of it. That’s an exciting project.”

Another intriguing venture is an exhibition of web-art displayed via Boca online gallery (bocagallery.com). “Web art is really counter-institutional, which is sort of what POP is all about too,” Bokenfohr enumerated.

POP Montreal has always been a feast for the ears, but with a wealth of exciting visual art shows to explore, Art POP has made it a feast for the eyes as well.

The post Art POP appeared first on The McGill Daily.

And thus, Tops was born. Joining Jane and her former foolish smoochers, David Carriere and Thomas Gillies, is the bands new drummer, and former McGill student, Riley Fleck. “He’s a really good drummer and his contribution has been really good” Penny explained.

While there may be a significant overlap with Silly Kissers in terms of members, according to Penny, the overlap in sound is fairly minimal. “Silly Kissers was electronic, and this isn’t, to put it simply. But also, I think there are different influences now.” While the differences may be clear-cut, the Tops’ aesthetic remains “a little difficult to describe.” “I think we started out with soft rock because, in all manners of speaking, what we’re doing is rock music, but I don’t think we really feel an affiliation with rock necessarily.” Like its music, the band itself has taken on a new life of its own. “It’s really collaborative, we all write the songs together, and it’s really rehearsal based… It’s more of a band” Penny laughed.

For this relatively new Montreal music outfit, performing at POP is a welcome proposition. “It’s really a show that everybody can go to and everyone knows about,” noted Penny. “I’m really hoping that we get to share what we’re doing, cause I feel like it’s really reached a point of development where it’s ready to go.”

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While movie goers aren’t able to bring booze to the festivities, there will be free popcorn in order to satisfy any serious cases of the munchies. And, while the movie is free, the organizers are raising money for Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders), and hope to reach their goal of $1000. This weeks screening will be of John Water’s “Pink Flamingos,” a film that Kelly described in a message to The Daily as “disgusting, offensive, and hilarious. Perfect for Cinequanon.”

That being said, the evening may be tinged with a little sadness because, after three years of summer movie screenings, Cinequanon will be taking down their silver screen for good.

“It’s come to an end because three years is a long long time to do something for free every week, every summer,” wrote Kelly.Indeed, three years is a long time, and this experiment’s long period of growth and development is awe-inspiring. Looking back, Kelly recalled that Cinequanon’s current home “was the first apartment [he] ever moved into in Montreal.” Soon thereafter, Kelly realized he had a unique space at his disposal. “It had this huge back yard, a rarity here obviously. Pablo and I felt it necessary for us to do something with the space,” he continued, noting that he found the answer in his own far-flung roots. “Coming from Australia I actually thought it was funny there were no outdoor screenings in summer here.”

The first ever Cinequanon screening was El Topo and, as Kelly said, when seventy people showed up, “the monster was born.” Since that modest beginning, there have been many moments that Kelly seems to look back on with a certain fondness. “Cops shining flash lights into the yard during the police brutality scene in La Haine,” Kelly recalled as a distinct, and rather ironic, memory. He also recalls many additional encounters with the police, mostly involving noise complaints–a seemingly unavoidable side effect of attempting to do something creative–—and therefore loud—in a typically domestic space.

While Cinequanon’s ability to keep the cops busy is impressive, perhaps the most outstanding thing about the cinema was its surprising staying power. “We ran a free cinema for three years. Neither of us have any money. I have no idea how this went for so long,” Kelly said. While Kelly insists that he is stepping aside, he does hope that the creative spirit of Cinequanon will live on. “Hopefully when it ends someone else will do another thing weekly in the Plateau.”

This remains to be seen but, luckily, the magic of this outdoor cinema can be experienced at least one more time–It’s sure to be a night to remember; as Kelly said, “I might light the screen on fire.”

“Pink Flamingos” will be screened at 4562 Ste. Dominique on Friday, September 9 at 8:00 p.m.

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Co-Lab bills itself as an informal idea sharing event, and, after the success of the first installment this past summer, Debbie So and Emily Kaibock have taken the reins to produce a second incarnation to take place on Friday, September 9. “It’s really celebrating people in our [McGill and Montreal academic] community and what they do, and acknowledging that everyone is doing these amazing things,” So told The Daily in a phone interview. The event will feature a series of talks by individuals researching and working in a variety of fields, with topics ranging from Japanese experimental cinema of the sicties, to restorative justice and the prison system, to paranormal activity in Montreal. Discussion will be encouraged, and the entire affair will be served up along with snacks and drinks.

While So describes the first Co-Lab event as a highly successful endeavour, this new episode will have a few minor alterations. So noted, “We had a little tighter submissions process” in order to keep the event to a more reasonable length. Yet even with increased curation, So stressed that they “still want to keep it really open.”

The openness that the organizers are seeking helps illustrate how Co-Lab was, in part, designed to break down what So calls “the isolating structure of school.” In a regular academic context, she posits that after a paper is written, submitted, and filed or thrown away, “that knowledge is kind of lost.” Co-Lab may present a way to help extend the lifespan of the masses of knowledge that students acquire through their enthusiastic academic efforts.

Another primary objective is the forming of interdisciplinary connections, and the opening of discourse among seemingly disparate fields. “I think it’s a great opportunity for people to kind of make links between topics that they didn’t think had links before,” So explained. “There is so much to be gained from thinking in an interdisciplinary manner.”

As a platform for idea sharing, it’s clear that Co-Lab’s success hinges largely on ensuring that people are willing and able to address their peers and present their work. According to Aaron Vasnintjan, one of the individuals behind The Plant, the venue where Co-Lab is held, creating a positive environment is crucial to making this happen. “What we really want is for people to be able to feel good about standing in front of other people, and feeling confident that they can say what they are interested in,” Vansintjan explained in an interview with The Daily. “I think what would be really nice is if the event has a very friendly atmosphere, definitely non-judgmental, and encourages people to talk, and then hopefully people will really start getting excited about each other.”

As grown-up students in the world of academia, it may be impossible to go back to the times of sharing in the sandbox.

However, with events like Co-Lab, we may, in fact, be able to break down our academic boundaries, and just get back to playing together.

Co-Lab will be held Friday, September 9 at 5p.m. at The Plant. Check Facebook for more details.

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“I don’t think [Osheaga] affects [Montreal’s music community] too much, bringing Eminem to Montreal didn’t really change much,” Raphaelle Standell-Preston of Braids told The Daily in an e-mail. While many headliners contributed to a decidedly international presence, the inclusion of the Montreal based group Braids seems to have exemplified Osheaga’s attempts to include at least some popular local acts in the festival. The band has deep connections to the city, which Standell-Preston alluded to during their set, exclaiming, “We live here with you.” They have also been gaining prominence outside of Montreal, with the launch of their debut album Native Speaker earlier this year, which resulted in wide acclaim for the band. The album subsequently wound up on the short-list for the Polaris Music Prize, one of Canada’s top music awards.

A performance spot at Osheaga may have been reflective of their new-found fame. Held on a large stage in an expansive outdoor setting, the show was distinctly different for Braids fans, who are accustomed to seeing the band in more intimate – if sometimes cramped – venues. As the band went through their pre-show checks, it was easy to doubt whether their sound could translate successfully to an outdoor festival setting. However, by the time the music swelled in their first number, “Glass Deers,” it was clear they had the power to pull it off.

It wasn’t just music listeners, however, who noticed a distinct difference between the festival and a more typical Montreal music experience. “I think that environment changes everything” Standell-Preston explained. “People tend to be much more excitable at festivals; festivals are outdoors, there are usually hot dogs and sodas, bikini’s are being sported, joints are being lit, people are just trying to have a good time. At a venue it’s usually dark, people have their arms crossed. It’s a much more serious event.”

While Braids were part of a relatively significant Montreal contingent at Osheaga, it seems that the festival’s size and international reputation prevented many local acts from performing, especially lesser-known ones. “ I feel that once you get to [Osheaga’s] level it’s hard to incorporate the little guys – which are the people who for me, and I feel for many people – define our music scene,” said Standell-Preston.

Another local addition to the festival was the Montreal based band Karkwa, who played to a large crowd on one of the biggest stages at the festival, a setting that seemed tailor made for the band’s high energy, folk rock sound. Karkwa has risen in commercial prominence throughout recent years, particularly after they became the first Francophone band to win the Polaris Music Prize in 2010. However, as one of very few Francophone bands to perform at this year’s festival, Karkwa seems to have exemplified the tremendous disparity that exists in the success rate between Anglophone and Francophone musicians, even in Quebec. In a telephone interview with The Daily, Stéphane Bergeron, the band’s drummer, acknowledged the relative linguistic inequality at this year’s festival, while also expressing a certain level of understanding for it. “Mathematically, yes, there were a lot more Anglophone bands than Francophone bands,” he conceded, “because [Osheaga] tries to book world wide, and international bands.” He emphasized that this disparity did not particularly bother him, and expressed a view that, from an artist’s standpoint, bands should be free to write in whatever language suits them. “I’d like to encourage people, if they speak French for the most part of the day, to create in French, but I don’t have a problem with people who sing in English even if they are Francophone,” he explained.

While artists like Bergeron may not have been bothered by Osheaga’s anglo-centrism, it seems that the festival missed an opportunity to distinguish itself from other large North American festivals by not taking advantage of the multi-lingual possibilities Montreal has to offer. “I feel that Osheaga could be in Toronto and it wouldn’t feel much different,” revealed Standell-Preston. “You don’t get that taste of Montreal when you attend it.”

Osheaga not only failed to exhibit Montreal’s musical distinctiveness, but also denied accessibility to many of the city’s music fans through its high ticket prices. Artists like Standell-Preston and Bergeron, however,  recognized that this was an unavoidable part of the music festival structure. “All festivals have higher ticket prices as there are many bands that you can see,” observed Standell-Preston. As she saw it, attendees were likely not drawn by any single band in particular but by the allure of the festival as a whole. It seems that festival organizers did, however, keep in mind the possibility of individual bands attracting distinct crowds by offering alternatives to the full festival pass, such as single day tickets.

A high price tag was not the only aspect of Osheaga that may have detracted from the festival’s musical focus. The proliferation of corporate sponsorship on the festival grounds was so heavy in many cases, that it served as a distraction, undermining both the music and the liveliness of the festival’s atmosphere. The festivals sponsors were, like much of the musical line-up, predominantly international. Osheaga once again missed an opportunity to make itself distinct by avoiding ties with more local companies, in this respect.

Festivals like Osheaga occupy a somewhat tenuous role in the musical culture of a city like Montreal. Certainly, the festival brought together a broad spectrum of musical talent, giving  Montrealers a chance to witness a slough of stellar performances over the course of just a few short days. As Bergeron observed, “Montreal is a city where you have a lot of music lovers,” and a festival like Osheaga undoubtedly caters to them. Even so, the festival, due to a variety of factors, such as cost or language barriers, remained inaccessible to large demographic swaths of the city it exists to serve.

The post A fair weather festival? appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Even before scoping out the parts up for grabs, it’s important to realize that theatre productions at McGill are unique in comparison to other universities. “McGill theatre, it bites harder” exclaimed James Campbell, (McGill Student) a veteran of the University’s stages, when he sat down with the Daily to shed some light backstage and behind the scenes. Campbell attributes McGill’s theatrical individuality to the proliferation of student  directing on campus – a realm he himself will be inhabiting this year as he directs The Hazards of Love, a new work for Player’s Theatre. While professors do take a seat in the director’s chair from time to time, two of the primary theatre companies on campus, Tuesday Night Café Theatre (TNC) and Player’s Theatre, feature productions exclusively with students at the directorial helm.

Regardless of the company one may be auditioning for, Campbell stressed that the audition process is always variable. The requirements of the specific script majorly contribute to how an audition will be run. One thing that prospective actors can expect to encounter is a mix of improvisation and script work in the audition room. “In these auditions you are looking to get [actors] to improvise, first off, because then you get a sense for who they are outside the script. Then you get them to read the script to see how well they can interpret scripts,” Campbell explained. The penchants and peculiarities of a particular director also make a big difference in the audition process, and often continue to effect a play’s progress long after the cast list has been posted. “You can tell how a show is going to end up several months later based on how the director [runs] auditions.” observed Campbell.

Not only do the auditions themselves vary from show to show, but what a director is looking for within them can change just as much. “If you’re doing musical theatre, frankly, there’s a bit more experience required because you need people who can sing and dance,” Campbell specified. More often than not, however, he stated that what directors really have their eyes on are “interesting people”. “You want people who are intense, interesting people, and who walk into a room, and change the room that they enter.”

Naturally, prior experience is always beneficial for those wishing to grace McGill’s stages, but by no means is it necessary. “Generally people with experience will come in and they’ll be less shy and they’ll give you what they have,” noted Campbell, but when it comes down to the final casting, memorable energy and a willingness to experiment are often what will really give any candidate an edge. “Directors will always need to shape you,” he emphasized, so an ability to be flexible and adaptable within the audition is key. In many cases, directors aren’t just looking for someone who can act a part, but rather someone who can respond to direction, and be moulded to the director’s vision of the piece.

A little preparation is also something that will go a long way. “Definitely read the script before coming into your audition,” Campbell emphasized. Getting to know the characters can be particularly helpful. “Pick out the people that you can see yourself actually excelling at becoming,” he suggests.

When it comes down to it, auditions are all about giving it a go. And perhaps, with a whole lot of energy and a little bit of luck, you’ll land the role of a lifetime… or at least of a school year.

The post Breaking legs, not breaking down appeared first on The McGill Daily.

The bass-heavy sounds of dubstep were first heard in south London a little over a decade ago. As dubstep spread throughout the 2000s, it evolved as a genre, reaching broader radio audiences as it was incorporated into songs by mainstream pop artists like Rihanna and Britney Spears. “I’ve seen dubstep explode and spread more quickly than any other electronic genre I’ve known,” explained Montreal-based DJ Jen Carmichael in an e-mail. This is a major shift for a genre that began so distinctly as a musical subculture. “I’m not sure if distance from the mainstream is necessarily linked to dubstep’s identity anymore” Carmichael, who plays under the moniker Vilify, admitted. “In its earlier days dubstep definitely had a different sound and feel: more low end, minimal and deep. With its increased popularity dubstep has emerged into more of the mainstream and been influenced by more popular genres.”

This transformation is particularly evident in Montreal’s own music scene. “From just over a year ago to where we are now dubstep has spread like wildfire” Carmichael observed. “To fill some of the largest venues in Montreal with this recently underground genre is still astounding to me.”

It is difficult to pinpoint precisely why dubstep has gained so much ground in so little time. A large part of this success may be the accessibility of the genre, and of electronic music in general. As these musical forms are less reliant on typical instruments and formal musical technique, they are often more accessible to average music consumers, as well as aspiring artists who may not have traditional musical training. In a way, the newness of dubstep may level the playing field, making it a more relatable genre.

Even in light of this metamorphosis, dubstep has not yet fully entered the realm of mainstream music, and it is hard to say whether or not it ever will. As Carmichael noted, “people will often ask me what kind of music I play, and when I say dubstep, they have no idea what that is. I guess time will tell if it’s reached its peak in terms of spreading into mainstream or if it will continue to expand past subculture.”

While many genres that have emerged from beyond the borders of mainstream taste, such as punk rock in the mid seventies, carry with them some sort of political attitude or agenda, the dubstep community seems less socially conscious. Dubstep appears to be focused on the musical experience itself rather than on its political ramifications. Carmichael echoed the sentiments of many dubstep artists when she explained that, “really I’m just sharing the music I love with others and watching the world of electronic music change and grow.”

Dubstep may be a relatively new addition to the Montreal music scene, but many issues present in other electronic music communities carry over to the dubstep scene. Perhaps most obvious is the overrepresentation of male DJs. This inequality inevitably effects the experience of both the consumers and creators of dubstep music. “I’m sure I’ve faced both advantages and disadvantages. Perhaps I’ve received more attention (both good and bad), maybe it’s increased my number of bookings, I think certain times I’ve been judged more harshly or had more pressure put on me” revealed Carmichael. However, the variety found in both dubstep listeners and DJs has certainly broken boundaries; perhaps gender equality is not far away. Given the flourishing of dubstep in the past year, it will be interesting to see how much the bass line rises or falls. As Carmichael said, “I guess time will tell if it’s reached its peak in terms of spreading into mainstream or if it will continue to expand past subculture.”

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Entering the market is like creeping up the cobweb-ridden stairs of a grandparent’s attic, into a world that is somewhat foreign and utterly fascinating. The two-storey warehouse is packed with intriguing merchandise, which you can discover by strolling through the labyrinthine passages that snake their way between various vendors. The St. Michel Flea Market isn’t just about shopping, it’s about discovering. Everything for sale is vintage and secondhand, spanning an incredible range from vintage clothing and old books, to antique art and furniture, in a variety of price ranges.

“You never know what you’re going to find,” said one shopper, who was browsing the aisles, keeping an eye out for vintage games. The thrill of the unexpected seems to be one of the things that surprises first-time visitors, and undoubtedly keeps them coming back.

The market attracts a range of people as wide as its stock, from thrifty students – “a lot of people like you!” laughed one vendor – to middle-aged couples on weekend dates, and even to industry professionals.  Frances, who runs the market with her partner Steve, pointed out that people from the film industry “rent all kinds of stuff [that they] would not be able to find in stores.”

Perhaps even more charming than the treasures for sale are the people doing the selling, most of whom are exceedingly friendly and more than willing to indulge in conversation with a curious shopper. The overarching attitude of the vendors was that selling at the St. Michel Flea Market is much more than a mere business venture.  “It started out as a hobby, and it turned into a job,” one vendor remembered, speaking from within a stall crammed with a startling selection of vinyl records, as well as vintage audio equipment.

After speaking with several vendors, it also became clear that there was no single path that led them to the market. One vendor attributed it to sheer necessity – “I have all this stuff, and I have to get rid of it.” Another described his entry into the flea market world as “an accident,” which turned out to be so much fun, he kept on going. Encountering people with such enthusiasm for the idiosyncrasies of vintage goods is one of the many things that makes a trip to St. Michel far more of a cultural experience than a commercial one.

Originally, while under different management, the market sold only new merchandise. This strategy was less than successful; the market started with over one hundred kiosks, but “within three months, the whole thing went down to almost zero,” Frances explained over the phone. “That’s when Steve and I took over” she continued,  “and we built it on antique, collectible, and used merchandise, and we’ve been working on it for twenty years.”  With overheads significantly lower than those on permanent stores, commercial space comes at an attainable cost.

This notion permeates the market, where it is apparent that creativity and curiosity oust commerce as the go-to business model. This is not a place to quickly pick up a needed item, but rather one to while away the hours poring over peculiar knick-knacks that evoke a time and a place all their own.

The post When market becomes museum appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Guernica represents a reaction that has been felt countless times by innumerable people around the world: war is truly an unfair tragedy. The loss of life that accompanies war is calamitous in itself, however there are many other repercussions of war that do not garner the attention they deserve. Alongside the death of people, war often inflicts a parallel death in their cultural legacies, through the destruction of the cultural capital that is expressed in architecture.

Architecture is what makes up the physical landscape of a city, and is therefore a vital component of its identity. Buildings define the skyline that citizens wake up to every morning and say goodnight to every evening – the face of the city they live in. Paris would hardly be Paris without the Eiffel Tower standing loftily over the rest of the city. As a result, when architecture is destroyed in war, so too is the spirit of the city in which it once stood.

One of the most infamous examples of architectural devastation is the bombing of Dresden from February 13 to 15, 1945 by the British and American air forces during the Second World War. Because of the civilian casualties it involved, the justifiability of this event has been heavily debated. Aside from the high civilian death toll, however, the bombing physically obliterated a city renowned for its beauty. Since the 17th century, Dresden had developed into a cultural capital of Europe. With this artistic flourishing came a blossoming of significant architecture, with buildings such as the Lutheran Dresdner Frauenkirche and the Catholic Hofkirche churches, and the Semperoper Opera House. All these buildings became synonymous with the aesthetic culture of Dresden, and all were severely damaged or destroyed during the fire bombings of World War II.

As Frederick F. Clairmonte explains in his article “Dresden: From Death to Resurrection” the city has “with infinite pain…been largely reconstructed spanning a period of two generations.” An appeal made in 1990, known as the “Call from Dresden,” was implemented by prominent citizens of the city in order to bring attention to the cultural crisis brought about by the destruction of architecture, in particular the obliteration of the emblematic Frauenkirche. Numerous charitable projects were established in order to help raise funds for the long and arduous task of restoring Dresden’s iconic architecture. Despite substantial success in the efforts to re-build, it is difficult to say whether the traumatic effects of architectural destruction due to war can ever be fully overcome. As Clairmonte writes, “After more than forty years, the final word has not been said on freeing Dresden from the clutches of destruction.”

One needs not look back as far as the second World War, though, to witness the effects of architectural destruction. The war in Kosovo in the late nineties is a startlingly recent example of extensive cultural destruction in war. What makes this example even more tragic is that the art and architecture destroyed in the conflict was not mere collateral damage, but was a tangible component of the ethnic and cultural confrontation between Kosovo’s Albanian and Serbian factions. According to scholars Andrew Herscher and András Riedlmayer who wrote on the subject in their article “Monument and Crime: The Destruction of Historic Architecture in Kosovo”, “[t]he situation in Kosovo…can be distinguished by the degree to which culture, and specifically, architecture, was – and remains – the symbolic centerpiece of Serb Nationalist claims to the province.” Similar cultural destruction has been characteristic of past ethnic and cultural conflicts in Croatia, including the devastating siege of Dubrovnik in 1991.

Many efforts have been directed at reducing the effects of war on architecture, and at salvaging what damage has been inflicted in past conflicts. The American Institute of Architects, for example, hosted an exhibition titled “The Destruction of Art and Architecture in Croatia” in order to draw attention to and memorialize the cultural losses suffered by the nation in conflict. Certain guidelines and conventions have also been incorporated into international treaties, which are meant to prohibit combatants from specifically targeting culturally significant buildings and sites. Organizations like the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organisation (UNESCO) have also played an important part in the protection and maintenance of architectural cultural capital.

Even in light of these initiatives, the threat of architectural devastation lingers today. In fact it may be even greater than in the past. As Kosovo and Croatia illustrate, the increasing frequency of ethnic conflict has lead to the view of cultural emblems, such as architecture, as targets in themselves. Other poignant examples of cultural targeting can be seen outside of conventional warfare, such as in the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Centre towers in New York City. In these confrontations, destruction of cultural legacies is a primary goal and therefore architecture is destroyed with calculated purpose, rather than as a component of collateral damage. This is a dangerous development in international relations and warfare which threatens the survival of cultural monuments globally.

For this reason it is crucial, more so today than ever, that the protection of architecture and cultural capital be made a priority in the face of violence. The loss of a nation’s citizens in war is devastating in itself, and is only compounded by the disappearance of its national identity brought on by architectural destruction.

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The Empress, notable for its Egyptian architectural flair, was constructed in 1927 as a vaudeville theatre, and continued to entertain the citizens of NDG in a variety of ways until it was damaged by fire in 1992. Since then, the fate of the theatre, labelled by Empress Cultural Centre board member Jodi Hope Michaels as a “jewel of the community” has been in jeopardy. Now, the Empress Cultural Centre Inc. project aims to bring the theatre back to life. Directed by the Cultural Centre Board, the project took over the lease of the theater from the city in 1999, and has been attempting to make their dream of a multicultural community performing space a reality ever since. But when asked by The Daily to describe the issues threatening the project, Paul Scriver – founder of the Renaissance Empress citizen movement, and a current director on the Empress Cultural Centre Board – ominously replied, “Where do you want to start?”

The building itself, though architecturally stunning, has posed some major structural problems. The fire in 1992 caused extensive damage to the interior of the building as well as to the roof, leaving it exposed to further elemental decay. Although certain attempts at repairing some of the damage have been effective, the repairs have been funded what Scriver describes as the little “money that’s coming in dribbles,” and have therefore been insufficient.

The hurdles that hinder the cultural centre’s progress seem to reach their apex in the administrative aspects of making something like the Empress Cultural Centre really happen. Innumerable hours and exhaustive effort recently culminated in what Scriver calls a “major proposal” for the reinvention of the Empress Theatre, which was put forth for funding to the provincial government of Quebec, but subsequently rejected. The $11.2 million proposition was “supported by the NDG bureau… but when it went to the provincial government, [they] turned it down,” said Scriver. In reflection, he sees many problems that may have put the proverbial nail in the proposal’s coffin. “We haven’t yet found the right formula, and there could be a lot of reasons for that,” said Scriver, such as “the way it was presented to the Quebec government” with too great “a focus on English theater” as opposed to a more diverse agenda. In this situation, the simple omission of “a number of things that are in the business proposal and the business plan, but weren’t emphasized in the grant proposal” may have contributed to its less-than-award-winning performance.

Whatever the reasons, the rejection of the Empress Cultural Centre proposal put a great deal of strain on the movement’s momentum. “When that particular application wasn’t accepted it lead to a crisis,” revealed Michaels. It was not long after this pivotal moment that the impromptu citizen-created Renaissance Empress organization materialized in order to bring awareness to the issue, and support the Empress Cultural Centre Board. The effort certainly seems to have made an impact, as many members of Renaissance Empress, including Scriver, are now on the board. Many are hopeful that this shake-up of the board will reinvigorate the cause. “Something really wonderful now is to have so many new people on the board all at once to bring new energy,” explained Michaels.

It seems, however, that support in the NDG community is not as unanimous as those on the board seem to believe, nor is the outlook for the project as optimistic. In a brief telephone conversation, a communication officer with the NDG Direction de la culture, des sports, des loisirs, et du développement social stated that as far as she was aware, “Everything is in hold.” She went on to explain that, with planning and design for a separate S21 million NDG Cultural Centre well underway, there seemed to be no immediate need for a similar institution to be created at the Empress site.

The future of the Empress Cultural Centre is both the most essential concern for the project, as well as its most precarious. After all the challenges and “frustrations over the years,” this is, as Michaels aptly expressed, “the moment of truth.” Scriver emphasized the diversity of the community and the centre he would like to see conceived, which he believes should have “an inter-cultural focus” which could serve the many “ethnic communities in the NDG area.”

While there has been skepticism from some community members and media outlets, those involved in the project remain optimistic about its future. “I think that community members and the media are justified in being skeptical,” said Scriver. He qualified this, however, by pointing out that “if you look at other projects similar to it, you can see that projects of this enormity often take 15 to twenty years to come to fruition.” It’s a monumental undertaking but there is tremendous motivation to preserve the Empress Theatre, and to raise the curtain on Empress Theatre Cultural Centre. Success in this endeavour, though as yet uncertain, would help to maintain the place the Empress Theatre has held in the hearts of many Montrealers for generations.

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