(47) The Museum of Wandering
“Couldn’t be more true about our consuming culture,” Mrs. Bento agreed, “I don’t see myself not buying anything with every single trip out, there’s always something I want to get, always a bag or two to carry back. Obviously Fotografiska wants to combine luxurious dinning with the gratification of splendid art viewing. It wants to make one hungry not just for first-class art but more so for top of the line cuisine.”
“And there is another Fotografiska opening in London soon…in Whitechapel, date to be announced, said here in this post.” Wandy fixed her eyes on the IPad screen, “it covers 89,000 square feet, with seven exhibition spaces, a cinema, two restaurants, a cafe and a bar. Sounds like running a multi-functional complex, a mini mall where people go not just for culture and art, but also for entertainment. Also very clever to strategically place a photo museum within ‘a mall’ in order to attract more audience.”
“The ‘legitimate’ marriage of fine art and commerce came pretty late in the West.” said Yosh, “I remember during the seventies, the Parco Museum was situated inside the Parco Department Store building, and since 2003, Mori Art Museum has been sitting on the 53rd floor of Roppongi Hills Mori Tower. These are the great museums inside commercial buildings. There are similar art galleries and centres embedded inside commercial buildings in New York too, in a smaller scale.”
“Well, I’d say art in the contemporary world is overindulged in packaging. It might be the first step if the artist wants to be successful. It is not surprising that photo museums can run like a business, in partnership with world-class restaurants, to be popular, to be in part of the hot social hub.” mused Mr. Bento.
“I do miss the old ways, when artists produced work out of the necessity of expression first, whatever gained was secondary. So much magnificent art produced under lives of bare bone poverty.” Bill gave a small sigh.
“Remember those days when we had exhibitions George?” asked Mr. Bento, “we simply don’t believe anyone would buy our photographs. Instead we just gave away to friends who showed real appreciation. It felt honoured, and was never about money. Now wait, don’t get me wrong. I am not saying that I reject to put a price on the work, and not appreciating the act of buying. But fundamentally, money was and should, never be the true intention of producing any good and honest art.”
Up to this point Mr. Bento sensed the discussion deviated again. Why were they talking about the marketing, strategy and making of art? It hinted faintly that the HOSOP team was a little lost. They seemed unable to figure out what kind of photo museum they want to build. The House of Something on Photography sounds increasingly vain and vague. What was that something on photography? As the day drew to a close, a thick mist started to build up outside, and Bill got a bit anxious to drive home. The trip would be more difficult when the day got darker, so he excused himself from the meeting. George and Wandy were just a few minutes walk to their apartment. Yosh always walked home to the Junction, which required a good forty-five minutes exercise. But the wind outside was biting, and he decided to take a bus on Dufferin Street.
(46) The Initial Anatomy of Photo Museums
Mr. Bento did not have the idea of bringing up news of Robert Frank’s death would create another diversion, dragging the HOSOP team further away from studying what photo museums world-wide would gather in their collections. In today’s gathering he must stress on focusing, herding them back to the aim of this meeting. In fact, everyone had done some homework, and after a lengthy discussion, they came to the following consensus. Wandy, with her iPad on her lap, quickly typed down the points.
• Most photo museums have historical and contemporary photography in their collection.
• Some perform acquisition of other important private photo collections in the world.
• Photo collection focusing on socially and politically charged images.
• Some collect works only by young photographers, or under certain ages, i.e. 35 or below.
• Some also organize exhibitions and publications, setting up on-going discussion on the role that photograph plays in our digital age.
• Some specialize in collecting certain genre of photography, say architecture, landscape, portraiture, abstract or experimental work…
• Some museums also collect historic cameras and photographic equipments in their holdings. Rotating installations that trace the history of photography from the collection.
• A number of them focus on the digital era, acquiring video, multi-media work along side with photographs.
Then there are also contemporary museums collecting 'Time-based media art', visual work that requires technology to be experienced. In the present almost ninety-nine percent of photography is produced digitally, would it be necessary to differentiate digital photography versus analog photography? Now they have a clearer view of roughly what photo museums of the world collect, would it help them to mold HOSOP? In fact, the more they learned, the more they felt their inadequacy to create a truly unique photo museum. They need to bring in more revolutionary ideas.
“I forgot to mention,” George said, “the opening of Fotografiska in New York. Has anybody heard of Fotografiska yet?” seeing no head nodding he continued, “it was founded in 2010 by brothers Jan and Per Broman in Stockholm and boasted to be the largest photo museum of the world. It differs from other photo museums as they only use the gorgeous space to organize exhibitions, practically several stellar shows at the same time. The exhibitions are developed directly with the artists, estates, collections and galleries. As their motto says, ‘We want to encourage and initiate change. We do so through our five core values: Innovation, Inclusion, Inspiration, Sustainability and Relevance.’ It wanted to be an inclusive hub for a connected creative, photo-loving community. In fact, Fotografiska wants you to experience a dynamic mix of world-class photography, cultural events and retail alongside epicurean dining created by award-winning restaurants. What’s more, this new addition in New York is open 363 days, from 9 am to 11 pm. The reason I mention this is to point out that museums are no longer just archival storage places, they are adapting and changing, more reinvigorated, more geared to the 21st century - the lifestyle of consuming.”
(45) Borderlines
Without saying much Mrs. Bento felt the sadness in Chai’s heart. Their city was burning. No news was good since June and the whole situation has gone completely out of hand, providing further grounds for the government’s tighter grip on the protestors. Qi, Chai’s father had bad news. A week ago he took a false step and twisted his ankle. At the doctors advice he stayed at home and took rest. In any case, many forms of transportation have ceased to operate since there are disturbances and road blockages in many parts of the city. Chai has a lot in common with some of her friends, who mostly express their views, or side with the protestors but not the will to take more drastic action. Or perhaps she is too far away from the core of action? Would she join the thousands if she’s in the city? Was it a worthy cause until now? She has already been blamed by her more progressive friends for staying away. Yet she has never felt the lack of freedom back home. Or, has she overlooked the freedom she so used to gets slowly boiling away? What is the extent of liberty anyway? Is there truly liberty and who has the authority to give it? Who is the giver and who is the receiver? Can a line from a 1994 Joni Mitchell’s song give her some answers? It said All liberty is laced with borderlines.
Chai felt more relief after whatsapping her father and knew he got much better, his job also secured. Qi would avoid going out on weekends and Sundays, when most events scheduled to break out. Focus on your work Chai, encouraged his father, make best use of your freedom when you have it! Yes, I am lucky, I’m staying now in a free, and the most cultural tolerance city in the world! Chai said to her father, sobbing. But I worry about you, and lives of others over there. How long will it take to get back to normal? This ‘adjusted’ normal the city must earn and learn the hard way.
Atrocities and political uncertainties have created huge movements in global migration. While some arrive in a new country replete with resource, as investors or self-employed, those have-nots or plain refugees find it exceedingly challenging to begin a new life. Even though Mrs. Bento rarely thinks about these issues she has become more and more aware of such facts. Here is calm waters, even in the coldest of Winters no one is depleted from getting some warmth from the communities. There are hands to give a lift, ears to listen to stories and shoes for those who walk bare feet. Shoes, oh yes, she remembered the shoe tree in front of the house on Gladstone Avenue. It was a day well-spent with Chai, exploring the street she has been living on for more than a decade. This house, with a tree draping different kinds of shoes turns out to be Adam House, a charitable organization that provides refugees clean, safe temporary accommodations. They would never have known it had they not explored that street. And on that slightly cool and breezy day, just a bit south they would hit another borderline - Dufferin Park Avenue, enter Dufferin Grove Park and venture further to meet the park’s public bakeovens.
(44) Halloween
A few weeks ago, Ginger and Mrs. Bento had to make a quick trip to Home Depot to get a new bathroom fan. The fan in one of the guest rooms was not working, and they also wanted to return the adjustable locking plier they bought but never used. Yes, another fine day, blue sky white clouds and all, all you can ask for some late October gorgeous weather.
After they’d finished returning the appliance at the service counter, they were surprised and delighted to meet a band of nightmarish figures dressed for Halloween: an all white-furry bear with grisly sharp teeth and glassy green eye balls, an eyeless wizard wearing his signature pointed hat, the long grey hair of his eye brows joining his beards, the green face wicked Witch of the West from the Land of Oz jetting out a malicious laugh. And there, hauntingly stood a female ghost figure that Ginger was afraid of most. Dressed in a white robe, she had dark-circled, big black eyes and parted long dark hair from the middle of her head. There were skull warriors, Dracula in his coffin rising up, and a zombie in blood-drenched ripped clothes, its hair, teeth, nails and one of its eye were falling off…despite the ‘inflicted’ terror Ginger was overjoyed to wander in this hellish warehouse. She kept circling around the ‘dead’ and made selfies. Her instagrams has a few hundred followers.
Mrs. Bento remembered some years ago Ginger was still interested to dress up for Halloween. One year she was the Goddess Athena, designed herself a scaled golden armour, helmet and a beige long dress, a live-size plastic owl she bought from Dollarama perched on her left shoulder. Another year she was the Superwoman, holding the big styrofoam hammer she stole from her teammate Thor. And approaching this year’s Halloween, Mrs. Bento heard that one out of 5 adults would buy a costume for their pets. Ginger would never do that. She refuses to dress Cigar in any occasions. She said bat wings, lobster, gingerbread man, cowboy, Frankenstein, plush shark, bumble bee, pumpkin, vampire, ghostbusters, stegosaurus et cetera et cetera prove to be just too much and, too humiliating for the pride of any real animals. And genuinely, Cigar, without any Halloween costume, looks already very Halloween in his real black and white fur costume. All you have to do is to make him hiss…thought Mrs. Bento. Oh, and Ginger told Mrs. Bento, this year many people will choose to dress up like the Skeksis, the part reptile, part vulture, part dragon antagonists of the recently revived puppet TV series The Dark Crystal. Mrs. Bento got it. She just finished watching the season finale with Cigar half asleep on her lap.
Unlike ghost festivals in many places in Asia, clever commoditization has made Halloween more fashionable, bigger and better. It is one of North America’s favourite festivals and holidays next to Christmas. More than 2 million North Americans celebrated the event, spending billions on candy and decorations. Out of the many houses that were decorated for Halloween, Mrs. Bento loved the ones that were plain. Homeowners simply hanged a few ghost-like figures on the trees, big and small, all made out of plastic bags. They were cheap to make, they danced and billowed like little scary spirits and, for a moment, felt eerily real.
(43) A Stela incised with the Keepers of Light
From The Family of Man catalogue, Chai gathered the names of 257 photographers, shy of 16 from the 273 people claimed in the collection at Clervaux Castle. When Chai further diagnosed the list she detected some interesting facts.
• Many images were selected from assignments, from photo journalists working for News agencies or magazines such as Life, Magnum, Pix, Fortune, Rapho Guillumette, Sovfoto or Black Star.
• 60% of photographers were Americans, made up of those born in the United States, and immigrants who became citizens. Many were European photographers thus suggesting that the ensemble of pictures was built heavily from a Western point of view.
• A neglectable number of artists working as fine art photographers.
• A neglectable number of artists working in other media such as film, painting and writing.
• A neglectable number of commercial/fashion photographers.
• A neglectable number of Japanese and Asian photographers.
• 15% of photographers was women. Chai highlighted their names in yellow, leaving those that she was not sure of their gender.
• A number of photographers have achieved world-wide fame, with photo books publicizing their work, she underlined those she's heard of.
• Remaining is a large number of names going anonymous, having not enough media coverage to introduce their work.
• The exhibition was grouped by themes common to all mankind, forming a giant photo-essay of humanity, a dazzling kaleidoscope of love, birth, family, friends, work, play, conflict, hunger, worship, migration, government, fear, hope and dream.
Eugene Harris, Wynn Bullock, Dmitri Kessel, Ralph Morse, Gotthard Schuh, Laurence LeGuay, Roy De Carava, Louis Faurer, Robert Doisneau, Ernst Haas, David Linton, Wayne Miller, Werner Bischof, Robert Capa, Frank Horvat, Hans Malmberg, Jay Te Winburn, Henri Cartier-Bresson, Paul Himmel, Margery Lewis, Elliot Erwitt, George Rodger, Hideo Haga, Robert Frank, Manuel Alvarez Bravo, Richard Harrington, Nell Dorr, Nico Jesse, Leon Levinstein, Gitel Steed, Eiju Otaki, Lennart Nilsson, Irving Penn, Lisa Larsen, R. Diament, Chien Hao, Satyajit Ray, Anna Riwkin-Brick, Ted Castle, Constantin Joffé, Eve Arnold, Consuelo Konaga, Eric Schwab, Hannes Rosenberg, Constance Stuart, Nat Farbman, David Seymour, Alfred Eisenstaedt, Arthur Leipzig, Ian Smith, Clemens Kalischer, Shirley Burden, Edward Steichen, Burt Glinn, Edward Wallowitch, Yasuhiro Ishimoto, Ruth Orkin, Bill Brandt, Russell Lee, Pal-Nils Nilsson, Carl Mydans, Willy Ronis, Homer Page, George Heyer, Eugene Smith, Ronny Jaques, Dorothea Lange, George Silk, A Uzlyan, Gottfried Rainer, Bob Jakobsen, Diane and Allan Arbus, Martha Kitchen, Robert Carrington, Vito Fiorenza, Nina Leen, Charles Trieschmann, Brassai, David Duncan, Ihei Kimura, Li Shu, Shizuo Yamamoto, G H Metcalf, Loomis Dean, Edward Clark, Jack Delano, Jakob Tuggener, Ansel Adams, Todd Webb, Margaret Bourke-White, Abdul Razaq Mehta, Charles Rotkin, Robert Mottar, Wermund Bendtsen, Gustav Thorlichen, Walter Sanders, Lennart Nilsson, Marcos Chamudes, August Sander, Frank Scherschel, Steinheimer, Arthur Lavine, Allan Grant, Gjon Mili, Eva Besnyo, Simpson Kalisher, Emil Obrovsky, Barbara Morgan, Walter B Lane, Fritz Goro, Gordon Coster, J R Eyerman, Torkel Korling, Pierre Verger, Ruth Davis, E Sved, Rudolf Pollak, Hans A Schreiner, Leopold Fischer, Yoshisuke Terao, Koslovsky, Ernst Brunner, John Collier, Erich Andres, Vero, Jerry Cooke, Gorky, Hiroshi Hamaya, Paul Berg, Hermann Claasen, Ralph Morse, Francois Tuefferd, William Garnett, Jacob Lofman, N Kolli, Sam Falk, Bradley Smith, Sol Libsohn, Leonard McCombe, Ed Feingersh, John Bertolino, Hugh Bell, Bob Willoughby, Rudolf Busler, Sabine Weiss, Hans Wild, Kurt Huhle, Kurt Severin, Bob Schwalberg, Arthur Witmann, Ralph Crane, Eddy Van der Elsken, George Strock, Leonti Planskay, Hedder Morrison, Nick De Morgoli, Lisette Model, Nora Dumas, Kosti Rouhomaa, Henk Jonker, Harry Lapow, Karl Sandels, David Brooks, Garry Winogrand, Ewing Krainin, Francis Miller, Musya S Sheeler, Edward Clark, John Phillips, Roman Vishniac, J De Pietro, Otto Hagel, Esther Bubley, Bert Hardy, Andreas Feininger, Harry Callahan, W C Rauhauser, Edward Weston, Carl Perutz, Fred Plaut, Ruth Marion Baruch, Cornell Capa, Ike Vern, Guy Gillette, Joseph Breitenbach, Herbert List, Peter Stackpole, Peter Moeschlin, Vitor Jorgensen, Jean Marquis, Gordon Park, Leon Levinstein, Henri Leighton, Eleanor Fast, Allan Turoff, Mildred Grossman, Ted Castle, Izis, Matthew Brady, Arnold Maahs, Lola Alvarez Bravo, Willie Huttig, Robert Halmi, May Mirin, Karl W Gullers, Rondal Partridge, Louis Clyde Stoumen, Daniel J Ransohoff, Alfred Statler, Al Chang, D Harrissiades, Ben Shahn, Doris Ulmann, Cas Oarthuys, William Vandivert, Jack Lorner, Hans Hammarskjold, A Mar Shak, Tana Hoban, Thomas McAvoy, Fenno Jacobs, Rene Croebli, Lou Bernstein, Raymond Jacobs, Fritz Neugass, Marion Palfi, Michael Rougier, Carmel Vitullo, John Florea, Dan Weiner, Sam Falk, Edmund Bert Gerard, Herman Kreider, Reva Brooks, Peter Habalin, Joan Miller, Yoichi Okamoto, Raphel Platnick, Emmy Andriesse, Alma Lavenson, Unosuke Gamou, Don Ornitz, Charles Leirens, Suzanne Szasz, Barney Cowherd, Richard Avedon, Annelise Rosenberg, Toni Frissell, Helen Levitt, Sanford Roth, Hella Hammid, Lee Miller, Carter Jones, Gita Lenz, Jasper Wood, Lewis Carroll, Farrell Grehan, Edouard Boubat.
(42) A Brief History of mid-20th Century Photography (in the West)?
In the Encyclopedia of Twentieth-Century Photography, it has been recorded that all the black and white images of The Family of Man catalogue were printed by regular rotogravure. The catalogue was published by Maco, a magazine printing company, which subsequently produced ten more editions in the next five years. It went on to sell hundreds of thousands of copies worldwide. By 1961, MoMA had sold more than one million copies of the catalogue, marking it the single most successful photography publication in the twentieth century. The copy which the HOSOP team held on hand, might be just one among the earliest editions, since the first edition was sold for only $1.
“Then this is a book of some value.” said Mrs. Bento. Chai has come across the photographer Edward Steichen during her school years in Ryerson, and learned that he was famous for organizing the exhibition The Family of Man. In the MoMA website it stated that the exhibition toured the world for eight years, showing in thirty-seven countries on six continents. What happens to the collection of prints now? Chai wondered. In a very good home. Yes, Google said.
“Which home? Didn’t the exhibition belong to MoMA?” asked Mrs. Bento.
“According to Steichen’s wish, the US Government donated the last complete version of the traveling exhibition to Clervaux Castle in Luxembourg, a 900-year-old national monument, which is also Steichen’s birthplace. In 2003 the exhibition was listed on the UNESCO Memory of the World register. And then after, actually, after a big restoration of the photographs in 2010, The Castle reopened the collection to the public as a permanent exhibition.”
“That means we all have a chance to see it!” exclaimed Yoji. “Visiting history within history. The assemblage of photographic work can almost tell, well, a brief history of photography of mid-20th Century. Many of the famous and known photographers were there…”
“But the representation is primarily from the West!” argued George. “And only based on the aspect of documenting how people lived and what was happening at that time…I mean that is okay too. Steichen never mentioned it as a roadmap to the history of 20th century photography, especially from today’s viewpoint, it feels entirely inadequate. Though some critic viewed it as shallow and over idealistic to deal with the world’s problems, I won’t debate Steichen’s sincerity in generating this enormous project. It might be the deepest gesture and the best endeavours he could perceive to promote better understanding between the human species, just when the horror of the Second World War was slowly fading from memory.”
(41) The Family of Man
Despite its size, a good 8¼ in x 10 in, this sad, long neglected book not more than 200 pages suddenly came to live, touched gently by these hands, praised by these mouths regardless of its shabby appearance. Immediately after the prologue was a spread page showing the entrance into the exhibit The Family of Man, with an introduction by Edward Steichen, the curator of the show and a prominent figure of twentieth-century photography. But it was the page following that caught Wandy’s eyes.
The photograph appeared on the left was a bird eye’s view of a river running between a rugged, mountainous landscape. Reflecting sunlight from a misty sky the river looked like a silver python snaking between the rich black mountains. Just as her heart was full of praise of this astounding image Wandy found the caption on the bottom: China/Dmitri Kessel/Life. Taken back a little, she realized for the first time her strong feelings toward the heaviness of her motherland. This image was so atmospheric, history of the land so tumultuous that only a person from a country of equal intensity can detect. Her instinct was right, the photographer Dmitri Kessel was from Ukraine. The river was Yangtze, the shot taken in 1946 during the Chinese Civil War. Immediate to the right, the top half of the page was occupied by some texts, while the lower half was an image of, as the description went: An American soldier kissing his English girlfriend on the lawn in Hyde Park, one of the favourite haunts of US troops stationed in England, 1944. War time, yet they shared a moment of being romantic…was the soldier still alive after that fateful year? Wondered Wandy as she slowly ran through the texts below the image.
…and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes
and then he asked me would I yes…
and first I put my arms around him yes
and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes
and his heart was going like mad
and yes I said yes I will Yes.
James Joyce’s Ulysses! The last words by Molly Bloom, in her eight enormous ‘sentences’ soliloquy. What a spectacular layer added to the image! With her heart beating a little wild, Wandy passed the book to Yoji and Bill, who sat next to each other and asked them to look at the incredible pairing of image and text. “Who did the texts?” Bill examined the front, back and inside pages of the book. He found credits of the working team on the back cover. The prologue was written by Carl Sandburg, an acclaimed American poet, while the texts inside were quotations from world literature, selected by Steichen and Sandburg, and also with the help of Dorothy Norman. Dorothy Norman was ‘an American writer, photographer, editor, arts patron and advocate for social change’, and who, despite her achievements in these fields, was primarily known in the photography world as having been “the other woman” in Alfred Stieglitz’s life. The unspoken rivalry between she and Georgia O ‘Keeffe was immense.
“Let me have a better look.” George leaned over to Bill and took over the book. Picking up the corner of every page carefully, he studied each image with extreme care. “Without doubt these images are amazing, they came from the eyes of the best photographers in the world. But I’m more struck by the printing quality of this catalogue. It’s the kind of black and white printing we cannot find today. It has the delicate tones and richness of I would say, almost platinum prints, the black is richly black and the white shines like, like silver…amazing.”
(40) The American Fifties
“Today’s HOSOP meeting starts with news of Robert Frank’s death.” Mr. Bento said with a low voice, lifting up his spectacles and gently soothing his eyes with two fingers, he tried to recall something. “I remember seeing recent photographs of him taken by a Canadian photographer. Was it last May, no, it was the May before last May, during Toronto’s Contact Photo Festival. They were taken at Mabou on Cape Breton Island, pictures of Frank inside and around his home, he seemed to be well at ease. One could feel the good rapport between them.”
“Robert Frank, you mean the photographer who got famous for the book The Americans?” asked Wandy. “I saw this book long time ago, maybe 20 years ago.”
“You’re right Wandy.” said George. “Speaking of which, do you have that book in the third floor library? It gave me an impression that there’s a good collection of photo monographs up there.” Just at this moment Chai and Mrs. Bento entered the room, both carrying a tray seated with bowls. “Red bean soup everyone!” Mrs. Bento said with a cheerful voice. “Cooked with organic red beans, age-old dried orange peel and sweetened with rock sugar. By the way, this is my niece Chai. She is working on a project in Toronto and will be staying with us for a while. Chai, this is uncle George, Aunt Wandy, Uncle Yoji and Uncle Bill.” They lay the bowls down carefully on the table and provided spoons for the guests.
“The Americans was first published in the late 50s, and has since been republished many times. I don’t go up to the library very much and wouldn’t know if there’s a copy.” Mr. Bento turned to Chai, “You have been working up there recently, have you seen Robert Frank’s The Americans?”
Chai thought for a while and said, “Yes, it’s a very famous book. I have not seen it upstairs…but I saw some other books by Robert Frank: The Lines of My Hand and hmm…the postcard book…what’s the name…ah yes, it is Thank you. And I’ve also found a few other books relating to that period which are quite interesting: The Family of Man, Walker Evans and also…Limelight.”
“The Family of Man?” asked Yoji. “You mean the legendary photo exhibition at MoMA way back, I think, around the 50’s? I would really like to look at the book!”
“Geez, you know what, I can’t believe it seems like yesterday that I saw this exhibition at MoMA, my first trip to New York!” proclaimed Bill, who is the oldest member of HOSOP. “More than 60 years! So is it the original catalogue of the show, or a recent reprint?”
“Oh, I didn’t really look into the details, but my impression is it did look a bit old.” Chai passed Mrs. Bento a quick look and pleaded, “Aunty can I go upstairs and bring the book down? It sounds like an important book and could be worthwhile sharing.” Mrs. Bento nodded, finishing the rest of her red bean soup with a gulp and said, “Certainly. Let me go with you.”
The two ladies returned minutes later with a pile of books. One of them was The Family of Man. The publication was designed like a magazine. They passed it around and examining it with great interest. For sure the catalogue was printed in 1955, published on the occasion of the exhibition with the same name. The spine of the book appeared a bit beat-up, its edges worn-out, pages turned yellow and slightly shaken. An image of a Peruvian Piper adorned the cover, backing up with the graphic of multiple coloured quadrilateral forms - a Mid-Century modern design popular at that time. Beneath the image stood the title The Family of Man in bigger types, following by texts in smaller size: The Greatest Photographic Exhibition of
All Time - 503 pictures from 68 countries - curated by Edward Steichen for The Museum of Modern Art. Prologue by Carl Sandburg. An old, stained and faded $4.95 price sticker was still stuck on the upper right corner of the book. They turned the pages with extreme care, lest they came off like breeze. In fact some pages had already broken free.
(39) Street Mapping
The first building opposite the library on Gladstone Avenue is Hakim Optical shop. Sharing this rather long and rectangular three-stories red brick complex is WWCC, Working Women Community Centre, a charitable organization since 1974. The integral part of its mission is dealing with newcomer settlement services, offering programmes supporting immigrant women and improving the lives of their families. On the unusually wide, extended pedestrian path, Chai and Mrs. Bento stopped to look at a beautiful mosaic panel.
“This mosaic work is quite extraordinary, particularly the cutting of a big round circle for people to look through,” said Chai, moving closer to the round glass window. “It’s a small garden, it’s too bad that the bushes and shrubs were not well maintained.”
“We’ve always seen this mosaic wall from a distance when we visit the library, but just too lazy to find out.” Mrs. Bento fell back a few steps, squinting her eyes to inspect the mural art. “I see now it’s full of free flowing lives. A tree with deep roots dividing a huge butterfly and a sizeable kite, both flying happily above the pond. Hey, there’s a big tortoise swimming in the water too. You’re right, the hole is a curious one and does provide a window for us to, I’d say, to look beyond…wait there’s some information here about the work.” Mrs. Bento moved to the side of the mosaic wall, which was almost two feet thick. An acknowledgement of the participants creating this mural was installed. The names of seven Latin American immigrants, led by local artists Amelia Jimenez and Lynn Hutchinson Lee worked for a year to finish the project. Named Mapping Our Path - it painted a joyful recap of a new life as well as a beautiful painting that the nearby community can enjoy.
Walking on Gladstone Avenue was such a pleasure. They walked zigzag on the street, depending on which side the cars were parked. The vehicles could be obstructive to their view and they preferred to stroll on the open side. In a late Summer mid-day, they could still hear buzzings of cicadas from tree to tree, a wonderful symphony of sound producing rises and falls in both pitch and volume. The soughing of the wind in the branches, the leaves rustled ever so gently wave after wave. From time to time they had to use their hands to cap off the sun so they could have a better look at dwellings left and right.
The homes were mostly early 20th century two stories detached, semi-detached or row houses. The architectural styles were quite mixed and Chai was busily taking pictures for her log book. As she was snapping Mrs. Bento called over from the other side, “Look Chai, look at this tree. It’s got a lot of shoes hanging on its branches.”
(38) The Church
Chai and Mrs. Bento failed to recognize St. Wenceslaus Church on Gladstone Avenue possibly because of their stereotypical impression of what a Catholic church should look like - always grand and Romanesque in style. Yet, this church built around 1951 is Czech in origin, minimally designed as an industrial building, probably based on practicality, and to avoid financial overload. Looking up at the building, they noticed five mosaic windows carrying religious themes, and they also saw the official entrance to the church. Walking along the building, towards the end they can see Dufferin Street. “It is indeed very visible from the busy Dufferin Street,” remarked Mrs. Bento, “I mean if you are really looking for it. We’ve passed here hundreds of times, despite the very big wooden cross fixed on the exterior wall, and a metal sign showing the name of the church, we've never noticed it!” By this time the fair sun had cast, from the trees across, a good deal of shadows on the building's beige wall, breaths of soft wind added layers of graceful movements. A modest structure with God-given beauty indeed, they thought. “Churches serve their communities,” said Mrs. Bento to Chai, “but I have not known the existence of this church and therefore unaware of the Czech community until today!”
Chai took what Mrs. Bento said to heart and later, when they got home, did some research. Today it is estimated over a hundred thousand individuals of full or partial Czech descent in Canada. Chai has little idea of who Saint Wenceslaus was, and easily found out that he was the duke of Bohemia from 921. Due to his efforts to unify Bohemia, and his support of Christian values caused him his life. He was eventually killed by supporters of his brother Boleslav in 929. Although the cause of his death was primarily from political reason, he was hailed as a martyr for the faith. By the end of the century Wenceslaus was celebrated as the nation’s patron saint. At the beginning of the 11th century St. Wenceslaus was already regarded as the patron of modern Czechoslovakia.
In the United States, it is estimated over one million people of full or partial Czech descent. That’s ten times more than Canada. Many States have erected churches in the name of St. Wenceslaus, the oldest being built in 1856 in New Prague, Minnesota. There are St. Wenceslaus Church in Baltimore, Chicago, Iowa, Montana, North and South Dakota, Oregon, Nebraska, Wisconsin and particular in the State of St. Louis - the church St. John Nepomuk built in 1854 in Gothic Revival style, is argued by many, the truly oldest Czech church in the US. From the typical look of all these churches, Chai said to Mrs. Bento a few days later, they should have no problem identifying the church. But St. Wenceslaus Church on Gladstone bears a very different look and therefore, hit their miss list. As an afterthought, they ought to be more careful next time, things cannot be judged simply by appearance. “An apple might not look like an apple!” Mrs. Bento hazily recalled.
A fine September morning. On Dufferin and Alma Street, from the bus stop opposite a massive construction site, Mrs. Bento and Chai took the number 29A northbound bus to Bloor Street West, where they would get off and walk down south along Gladstone Avenue. Just a small block east of Dufferin Street stood the Bloor/Gladstone Library. Chai saw a Heritage Toronto plaque in front of the building and started reading it. The library was inaugurated in 1913, more than a hundred years old. The building design is a Beaux Arts adaptation of the Italian Renaissance style, with an addition of a contemporary glass pavilion on its western side in 2009, the renovation has doubled the space of the library.
The pulled open the heavy aluminium glass door and entered into the high, light-filled central hall. On the left was a long green circulation counter, and on the right was the Learning Centre, a transparent room full of computers. Chai looked around, she saw three levels of the library lay open in front of her. The site lines were clear throughout. The architects had done a good job in redesigning the interior. Attention was paid to create many functioning atrium space, new partition walls were incorporated into the fabric of the existing masonry building, creating a public space all the more open and welcoming. The Lower level was filled with books for children, plus a number of multi-purpose rooms. Following the stairs to the upper level, the whole area was divided into sections servicing adults and teens. The left wing was for music CDs, DVDs and audio books. There were individual studying stations and two long communal tables for working and studying. The huge arched windows let in abundant daylight making the space bright and cheerful. In the centre were the magazine section and books of specific themes, of cooking, traveling, language and biographies. Continued to the right wing they walked through a bridge to the glass pavilion. It was totally refreshing, plenty of natural light coming through the tall glass structure. Still quite early in the morning there were some comfortable seats available. Chai noticed some people reading, some people focusing their attention on their smart phones, and there was one sipping Tim Hortons at the table. "Even food and drink allowed?" thought Chai to herself. There, another one taking a nap in the slipper chair, using his knapsack as pillow. After their ten minutes tour of the library they proceeded to leave.
“I wish we have a library like that in Hong Kong!” Chai said, as they walked out of the library. “Have you noticed aunty, there are two small pebble gardens on both sides of the connecting bridge where we walked across. It adds a bit of zen to the library.”
“Yes the library is a gem and I know we’re very lucky. Here, I don’t use our health care system very much, but both Mr. Bento and I agree that we have one of the best library systems in the world. We don’t go there to meditate, but to enjoy the peaceful atmosphere, the peculiar aroma of books and the boundless knowledge contained within them.”
Walking down south on Gladstone Avenue, according to Chai’s google map on her phone, there should be a church on the right. Instead they saw a detached house and a wide gated driveway. They peeped inside, it was a large enclosure with ample angle parking spots for multiple vehicles on one side, barred with a wire fence. No car was there at this point and it looked empty. Opposite the parking strip stood a rectangular concrete building. That didn’t look like a church! Then they caught sight of a sign post indicating St. Wenceslaus RC Church. Was the church really inside? Just as they wondered whether they should trespass and walk inside to find out, a car pulled in at the curb. An old woman came out from the car. Mrs. Bento gave her a polite smile and asked about the church. Was it this house or was the church inside the court yard? What started as a simple yes or no turned into a slightly longer conversation. The church was the building inside, boxed in behind the Gladstone Library and the house on the street. But from Dufferin Street, which is parallel to Gladstone, the church could be clearly seen. Before this location, the church was situated on Bloor Street West, right opposite the Library, at the location where Tim Hortons presently stands. Though the church was closed now the woman encouraged them to walk inside the court to have a look.
So they did. The feeling of sudden quietness and lushness hit them as they walked between the fence and the concrete building. Streaks of light fell through holes from the long wire fence, which was planted with trees and luxuriantly grown climbing vines. There was not a soul to be seen, and they were left on their own to experience a brief moment of serenity.
Never has Mrs. Bento so affected by thunders before. Between the scientific and mythical world there is every reason she can find to be afraid of the dragon’s roar. She blames it most on her imagination, which grows wilder and vivider everyday. Whenever she hears loud cracks of thunder, she immediately thinks of finding refuge underneath a desk, a table, or any place safe, imagining herself a naked child, curling in fetal position on a deserted plain, so fragile and defenseless and totally helpless before the destructive power of nature. It may also be seeing too many gruesome scenes of disasters like hurricanes, floods, earthquakes and tsunamis. When she tells people of her fears they just don’t understand why a mature person like herself would be terrified by such natural and totally explainable phenomena like lightning and thunder.
Yet there is lightning and thunder on the other side of her world, which she tries to keep calm and being indifferent. A guest from the B&B asked her what she thought of the recent unrest, still in a state of denial was all she could say. In her memory her birth place was never a violent place. It was the Pearl of the Orient, a cosmopolitan metropolis holding up several millions, the place for opportunities and wealth building. Who would want to break that perfect picture of prosperity and disrupt the world of dreams? Is there truly a better dream? The place must be very different now since she left twenty years ago. The world is definitely very different now and it is impossible for her to establish any relevant reference point. There is no place for her opinion, and even if there is, her observation would be too out of time and definitely, too out of place.
In the world of tenacious information technology and social media craze, every business every profession is rapidly changing, constantly shifting and adopting new molds that people are struggling to adapt. How do I feel? Mrs. Bento asks herself. For a few decades people had enjoyed certain degrees of freedom there, until now. Certainly people would have run from any form of authoritarian government if they have the ability. Majority of this generation must have felt increasingly hopeless. While they don’t have the resource to leave, they feel frustrated that their voices are not being heard. As suppression by force escalates there’s no other way to let out their anger except by fighting back. And besides, what is youth if they aren’t rebellious. The brighter side of it is one can see they are more rooted. They take matter in their own hands. In order to craft out a future of their choice, sacrifice they will.
Her brow furrowed in a frown as she resumed thinking. We never did it in our younger days, we were so insulated we never had the nerve. Or perhaps we had the privilege of being apolitical and never had to take side. or worst still, we never felt we belong to any side. Is being apolitical wrong? How do I feel about the uproars? It feels like a new wound, too soon to feel any pain. But then it feels like an old wound, the pain has long gone, forgotten, a remaining scar that has never healed. The place was always thought, and now especially, a place for transit. We were rootless then and rootless now, and that’s sad because without attachment, we are forever exiled, a life in diaspora. Let that life be then, she took a deep breadth and exhaled. As long as we try long and hard enough we can choose to be global citizens. On good soil we will survive. Consoling herself for the hundredth time, she arrived calmly at her storm-sheltering harbour.
“It makes me want to look at those photographs!” said George, referring to A Conversation of Five Photographs. By this time, they had gone through some length of the disc and Mr. Bento paused it for a break. Some got up to stretch their legs, some went to the washroom and others went into the kitchen to fetch more beverages.
“It sounds like there’s a variety of genres in those five works: art, documentary, performance, portrait, self-portrait, alternative…yes, it would be nice if we have a chance to see the pictures.” Bill added. Mr. Bento shrugged his shoulders, turned to his wife with inquiring eyes, “Maybe you’ve seen them?” Now that everyone gathered back in the room, Mr. Bento reached out for the remote to resume the audio.
Woman: “And a young Irish lady once commented that this black and white photograph by Araki is less offensive. She probably didn’t know Araki! All she saw was an apple, sliced vertically into half. The apple is so succulent, revealing ovary, seeds and calyx, a lovely offspring after pollination. I suspect Araki had sprayed some water to achieve this wet droplets effect … the symbolic association is alarmingly erotic.”
Man: “And the close-up renders it more aesthetic. Araki takes pictures everyday, he said he wrote diaries with them. In one of his ‘picture diaries’ we saw him shooting extreme close-ups of women’s vaginas using ring flash. Direct and brutal, he challenges the notion of obscenity, and dares to go beyond limit. Yes, he doesn’t care to be coined a porn, erotic or art photographer, just call him whatever you like and he will still shake your hand, and burst out into his habitual boisterous laughter. He said he needed to feel alive by taking pictures, like eating and sleeping and having sex everyday.”
Woman: “His lewd attitude covering up his more solemn side. It’s a disguise before death and how he combats it. He did it brilliantly through photography. After his wife died in 1990 he produced two photo series: From Close-range and Skyscapes, forming the book Laments. They are the most moving memorial pictures I’ve ever seen. This black hole of loss he tried to fill with memories of tender years he shared with Yoko, looking at different skies, drying clothes in the verandah and watching their cat playing with Araki’s toys…all reenacted with silent and mournful gazes.”
Man: “The joy and pain in life. Up to now he’s still living acutely between both worlds through his photography. A few years after Yoko’s death Nan Goldin visited him and together they collaborated on the Tokyo Love project. Though both are known for exploring and depicting sexuality in their work, they appeared much more reserved and restrained in dealing with the subject matter, perhaps out of fear, or respect for each other’s name. That also leads me think further on portrait photography, what is a portrait? Is it merely likeness, or technical excellence? What is in a portrait, are there good and bad portraits? Is there a formula for taking good portraits? Does a successful portrait need to be liked by both photographer and the one being photographed?
Woman: “The tension becomes especially strong when one photographer shooting the portrait of another - on the one hand the shooter has to give direction, to set the scene, and on the other hand, the sitter inevitably heightens her awareness, hanging between reveal and conceal, the hesitation makes it all the more awkward. They have to arrive at a certain comfortable meeting point - merging the photographer’s conception of the sitter, and the way the sitter wants to be represented. Annie Leibovitz talked about her experience in photographing Sally Mann, her state of mind and uneasiness in the whole process. She needed more strength and courage to tackle this session than any of her previous sittings of shooting celebrities.”
Man: “By shooting intimate family life Sally Mann got famous, and scrutinized at the same time. It was around 92, the decade when artists began proactively exploring the medium of photography as an art form. Sally Mann’s pictures touch not only the private life of a family, not just about her children growing up, but also look into the interior nature of adolescence, identity and sexuality, which was considered controversial and even abusive by many at that time.”
At this instant Yoji hand-gestured Mr. Bento to stop the disc and said, “But during that time the ones being photographed did not consider being exploited, until they were being told so. The matter, though pure and in good intention, became complicated. Most of the women Araki photographed came to him willingly, they were proud to show off their bodies, as best souvenirs to themselves. They felt honoured and wanted to be in a piece of Araki’s history. This is true until the #METOO movement, some began to wonder whether he was really their saviour, or they were being his preys.” The sky suddenly grew dark. Grey clouds gathered and hung over the city like a gigantic canopy. Lightning unleashed a scream of silver snakes across the sky, followed by roaring thunders. A rainstorm was rolling in.
"Photography and history." Yoji lifted his head, eyes fixed on Mr. Bento, "Since the invention of photography, any civilized cities or countries must have a photo archive of their own. In Japan, The Nagasaki Atomic Bomb Museum unfortunately ranks close to the top among war museums. Yosuke Yamahata, the Japanese photographer took pictures of Nagasaki immediately the day after the atomic bombing. Those pictures were published two weeks later in Mainichi Shimbun. But when the American forces arrived, the images were withdrawn from the public eye. More photos were found five years ago at the US National Archives, showing pictures taken a year after the bomb was dropped. They were taken by one of the American researchers who visited Nagasaki to investigate the damage caused by the bomb. Among the twenty some photographs exhibited at the Atomic Bomb Museum, one showed an arrow-shaped monument standing in the middle of a field, bearing the inscription 'Atomic Bomb Ground Zero' in Japanese. It stood 5 meters tall. It is now the site of the Memorial Hall."
“War museums eh? You know there are Holocaust museums all over the world, even one in Hong Kong! And oh, I remember a few years back, when Ginger and I traveled to Berlin, we went to an outdoor memorial - they call it the Holocaust Memorial. There are more than two thousand grey concrete slabs in the open space, wasn’t that haunting and depressing as it should be. A wonderful sunny day, we even took a silhouette portrait of ourselves, I mean the three of us - Ginger, me and Cigar. Let’s see if I can still find it.” Mrs. Bento looked down and scrolled through the forest of pictures in her smart phone, where she stored virtually all the images she had taken over the last five years.
“Before we wander off too far, I have to remind every one the reason for compiling the photo museum list. We want to study the kind of photography museums put in their collections, that way we could discuss and develop criteria for what HOSOP would collect." George went on, “I know there are many compelling stories when going through the list, and it's hard to avoid the danger of distraction. Before going on further, let us digest what we have on hand and voice out our opinions.”
“Since we all get this list for the first time, we need to do some homework. Should we get prepared to bring this topic up again in our next meeting? Any objections? Okay, done!” Mr. Bento pounded on the table with his fist as if he was nailing down a bid with hammer in an auction. He gave a quick glance at the street outside, and continued with a softer tone, “Meanwhile, it is still early, and I’d like to share some discussions of photographs we accidental found in an audio disc, on our third floor library. We have listened to it once, and think it could perhaps inspire and help us look at photographs in other perspectives.” Without waiting for consent from the team, Mr. Bento got up and walked over to the CD player, turned on the power and inserted a disc. Just when he was about to press the play button Mrs. Bento cried out aloud, “I smell something burning!” Both Bentos rushed into the kitchen. The smell was robustly strong, the tea pot sat quietly on the seemingly peaceful glass cooktop. In no time Mrs. Bento shouted again, “Don’t touch it, use the oven mitt!”
Lebanon Beirut
Arab Image Foundation (1997)
Netherlands Rotterdam
Netherlands Photo Museum (1989)
Poland Krakow
Museum of History of Photography (1986)
Portugal Braga
Image Museum (1999)
Porto
The Portuguese Center of Photography (1997)
Russia Moscow
The Lumiere Brothers Center for Photography (2010)
Switzerland
Fotomuseum Winterthur (1993)
UK London
The photographers' Gallery (1971)
Bradford
Impressions Gallery (1972)
USA New York
International Center of Photography ICP (1974)
Rochester
George Eastman Museum (1947)
Syracuse
Light Work (1973)
Staten Island
Alice Austen House (2016)
Chicago
Museum of contemporary photography (1976)
Los Angeles
The Annenberg Space For Photography (2009)
Tucson Arizona
Center for Creative Photography (1975)
USA San Francisco
Pier 24 Photography (2010)
Riverside
California Museum of photography (1973/2010)
Washington
National Geographic Museum (1963)
San Diego
Museum of Photographic Arts (1974)
West Palm Beach
Palm Beach Photographic Centre (1986)
"Vow, USA listed last but they have the largest number of photo museums in the world," exclaimed Mrs. Bento.
"Also the earliest - George Eastman Museum in 1947!" added Yoji.
"But Jeu de Paume - literally palm game in French, the famous rectangular building built in mid-17th century under the order of Napoleon III, which later was used to store Nazi Plunder, had held, in as early as 1909 the exhibition of One hundred portraits of women from the 18th-century English and French schools". Bill looked at the list and pointed out. "By 1991 it has become an archive and photography exhibition venue, and in 2004 it has developed into an important centre for photography and new media. An usual and long history."
"And I've found another institution, London's Royal Photographic Society, who had actually held the first ever exhibition of photographs in a museum - the Victoria and Albert Museum in 1858. RPS started to collect photography and it's technological devices formally from the mid-twenties. Since 2017…” Mr. Bento's index finger surfed swiftly on his newly acquired 13" Ipad as he spoke, "the huge collection has been transferred to the Victoria and Albert Museum, forming the now V&A Photography Centre. We’ve gotta to go there when we visit London next time…I can’t believe it, it must have been more than thirty years ago!” Using a red ball pen, he added V&A under UK in the museum list.
“And we ought to visit Palm Game too, since it’s only in Paris - one stone to kill two birds!” Mrs. Bento remarked. The Bentos had visited London and Paris in 1987, at that time they took an one-and-a-half hour night ferry across the English Channel. This time they would definitely use the Eurotunnel, which finished construction in 1994, just seven years after their crossing. The tunnel cuts short traveling time by an hour. Even though as little as an hour, Mrs. Bento thought it an important gain. They need to gather all these little gains to keep the candle burning longer, and brighter for their advancing years.
At the door is a young woman, dark brown eyes and short wavy layered bob haircut. She carries a travel backpack on her shoulders, a Samsonite spinner in the colour of midnight blue standing upright beside her.
"Aunty, I'm arriving earlier, hope you don't mind!" With a step forward, she stretches out both arms and gives Mrs. Bento a full embrace.
Mrs. Bento is not overly surprised to find Chai at the door. She knows she's coming, just not knowing exactly when. Chai is her niece, the only daughter of her younger brother Qi. After graduating journalism from the Ryerson University Chai returned to her home base in Hong Kong, picked up some contractual and freelance work. From her last phone call she'd already told Mrs. Bento that she's planning to stay in Toronto for a while, to continue research on her project - The Anatomy of A City: Toronto Chapter.
"Not at all! Come in come in, let me take your luggage." Mrs. Bento plants a deep kiss on Chai's cheek, turns her head towards the house and shouts, "Chai's here Bento!".
As a child Chai was bright and outgoing, an adventurous, loveable little rascal. She has a special place in Mrs. Bento's heart. In reality, her name was even given by Mrs. Bento. When? A scene flashed back to a café inside a bookstore. A week ago before Chai was born, Mrs. Bento's brother Qi was in Toronto. They went to Chapters Starbucks for a chat. Qi looked up the menu board and ordered Chai Tea.
"What Chai Tea, chai is chai, tea is tea, what exactly do you want, chai or tea?" said Mrs. Bento, expelling the air of an elder sister.
"Chai Tea, written on the board!" Qi said, pointing his fingers at the board.
"Do you know they are wrong? Chai means tea in Hindi. It's boiling black tea with milk, sugar and spices. When you say Chai Tea, literally it means tea tea. So you want tea tea … tea tea ..." Mrs. Bento unabashedly mimicked some baby talk.
"Oh, I didn't know. Chai I guess. I like the strong spicy flavour."
"Good choice. I'll order chai too, sweet and fulfilling, always revitalizing. I have an idea, let's name your baby Chai, if you still haven't got one." Mrs. Bento was just kidding at that moment. She hadn't the faintest idea, just after a few days, a healthy baby girl of 7.5 lb was born, and named by her father as Chai.
Then came a minute of silence in the café. The three friends sat and watched the evening sun casting shadows from the vinyl lettering adhered to the store-front window, creating partially obstructed words on the floor:
Great Cof/// goes hand in h/// with Gr//t Bo/ks
Bento broke the silence and asked, "What have you bought Yoji?"
"Two books, America by Andy Warhol, and Avedon's France. And you, you?" Yoji passed an inquiring look to both Bento and George.
"The latest book from Sally Mann: a thousand crossings; The Writings of Marcel Duchamp." Bento said.
"I've got The History of Japanese Photography. I know so little about the development of photography in Japan. Do you know this book Yoji?" Asked George.
"I know there has been an interest in rediscovering photography in the East for the past twenty thirty years. In fact Japan has a parallel development in photography like the West but largely unknown, and the world has already begun rewriting the history of photography. I have a friend in Toronto who does research on this topic and if you guys are interested, we can invite him out and chat."
"Definitely. But before we do that, let me briefly run through the book. By the way the cover design is really eye-catching." George handed the hard cover book to Bento.
Mr. Bento took over the 400 page book with both hands, "This big red sun is so Japan … wait, this is actually a huge five-blade iris. Such a clever and effective design." He paused and took a sip, "I have always thought the Japanese has a natural tendency to merge east and west culture, but before all of that, trade always came first. As early as in 1543 the Portuguese traders had already landed Tanegashima to sell their firearms. Followed by the English, Dutch and Spanish who didn't want to fall behind. The Americans came in the 1850's but their influence, good or bad, continues till today. It was also around this period the Meiji Restoration took place, creating a massive influx of western technology and culture. Japan picked up photography as soon as it was brought over from the French and the English. There were already Japanese photographers in the mid 1850s, only thirty years after the first photographs Niépce made."
"Not many people know that Japan has a photo history that paralleled and mirrored western photography, and the medium had developed with more or less the same pace along with the west. All this happened very fast just because Japan had abandoned the policy of national seclusion, and within decades, had replaced its feudal government with a constitutional monarchy and moved on to rapid modernization." complemented Yoji, but stopped before it went too deep down into history.
"But we're still fascinated by the West! Look what you've bought, Andy Warhol's America photographs and Avedon's France. Tell me what do you see in them that interest you?" George said with a smile.
"I used to think Andy Warhol's photographs were just party pictures, or snap shots of famous people, celebrities he happened to come across. But I must admit I have other thoughts now. This guy was really persistent, obsessed with images and carried a camera everywhere he went, constantly living and recording his experiences. In hindsight, he had documented an era, if not a complete picture, certain class and aspects of US life. To say Robert Frank's the Americans seemed to have experienced the quintessential America of the mid 1950s, Andy Warhol's America revealed to us, through his inner circles, and life-long pursuit of lifestyle, glimpses of the relaxed and unguarded selves of the rich and famous in the 70s and 80s. Right now I'm also looking into the history of the US, going back to as early as the 20s, an interesting period when she just climbed out of the first World War, only to march to the second." Yoji fixed his eyes on the Black and white cover of Warhol's America. Hovering over the back of the statue of Liberty, was a shot taken from an aerial point of a helicopter at night.
"Talking about wars, I noticed there's a picture book of WWI in BMV, and it says the very first war photographer was actually an American, attached to the U.S. forces fighting in the Mexican War in 1846 and 1847. These images were captured using daguerreotype, which was just invented in 1939. Unfortunately this photographer's name has been lost to history." Mr. Bento looked at the time in his cell phone, it was almost 9. The sun was getting lower, closer to the western horizon, the sky tinted a blushing red, "It's time to go?"
Yoji is less busy these days. He has finished editing the video he shot for the Japanese Cultural Centre a week ago. He called up George and Mr. Bento to meet at BMV Books in the Annex. This bookstore occupies all four floors of the building, buy and sell books, DVDs, comics, CDs, records and magazines. It is virtually Canada's largest bookstore for second-hand discounted books - and easily Toronto's most loved. The only reason Mr. Bento doesn't go there often is - he's afraid of buying more books. The bookstore claims that there are over a thousand different items being shelved everyday, plus unique finds, making every visit is a new experience, and it is impossible to come out empty handed.
After almost two hours of looking and browsing, indulging themselves in the world of books and images, they came out of the stores, obviously not empty handed. They instantly spotted the new BMV Café right next to the bookstore, and thought what a great idea the bookstore could jazz up its business with the addition of a coffee house. They pushed the glass door and went inside. Not a big space, about four to five hundred square feet. Near the entrance a bit to the right were two pillars, each about four feet apart, dividing the area in two. Tables and chairs were arranged right next to the columns. They found a seat near the brick wall, where a book shelf was protruding from, just about 16 inches above the head when one was sitting - a little awkward and in the way. Yoji ordered three drip coffees at the cafeteria counter, and learned that the café has just been open for business that same day.
"I think they should knock down part of the bookstore wall and open it up to the café to bring in more business. Think about Indigo partners with Starbucks." observed Mr. Bento.
George glanced around the interior but was not impressed. The wall opposite the brick wall where they sat, was covered in horizontal, six 4 by 8 natural colour plywood planks. The flooring was a light grey oak laminate, not a good colour scheme to go with the red brick wall. Tables and chairs are noticeably ikea-mix-match but without careful coordination. He recalled another newly open Café on Parkdale he and Mr. Bento recently visited. The popular industrial décor was much more effective. Exposed brick wall occasionally merged with narrow, vertical strips of deep brown reclaimed wood, perhaps to cover up cables? The flooring is a tasty maple hickory herringbone parquet. Grid of small lights are hanging from the high ceiling. Leaning against both walls are tall tables and chairs polished chestnut brown, in the middle a long commune table with eight comfortable barrel chairs. George felt the urge to share his thoughts about both interiors with Yoji and Bento, who in turn sipped their coffee, and looked more carefully around the space.
"But Bloor Street is much more expensive than Parkdale. Do you think they spent less in the decor of this Café?" queried Yoji.
"It might be a very close budget, but I think the people who designed the Parkdale Café has better sense of the business. Life style has been changing and the right, fittingly coordinated decor attracts customers, a mis-calculated design may turn them away. There's certain kind of uneasiness here that keeps customers from walking in." While Mr. Bento was speaking a young couple pushed open the glass door and stepped in, looked hesitatingly for a while and walked away.
"So if they paid more or less the same money for the decor, and both came out with the trendy industrial look, why then the result be so different?" George asked this question, but aware in next moment the answer already in his head. At the end of the discussion, they all agreed the key issue here was a matter of good judgement of designing space, selecting materials, colour scheme and fixtures. Eventually BMV Café will gain more business, the number of pedestrians passing through their street are greater than Parkdale on Queen Street West. But the level of branding itself into contemporary lifestyle will take them down a notch, not in equal measure with their famed bookstore, which design-wise, stressed on the practicality of browsing space and fluidity of traffic.
"It is also a good point - the matter of good judgement. Can the same principal be applied to building our atypical photo museum, our so called 'Little House of Something on Photography'? The idea is unheard-of, and there are no rules to follow." Like struck by a magic wand, George suddenly connecting the two, and brought up this question.
四月廿八晩之後
好
我去告訴他們
但
現在
我要睡覺
門內門㚈截然兩個世界
弄了張被單
便倒下一身子的頽然
煙和酒味
和
一室剩餘的嘈音
在這種半睡眠狀態下
維持了六個多小時
我很口渴
很孤獨很恐懼
喝了兩次你倒的熱水
竟如此冰冷
那一定是過了很久
翻了個身
不
我不是睡覺
我仍在旋轉
在想
剛才的狂野
和一切難以忍受的叫囂
叫活不是醉的人去受罪
面對面,六隻眼睛
我在聽,在受
一番過多修飾的指控
而我疲憊得只能説
好
我去告訴他們
但
現在
我要睡覺
然後我關上門
趟下
一直留滯於這個狀態
四月廿九日寫
The scenario seemed connected - a music drinking party inside a room. Remembering something she turned back to the previous page and studied the title: The night after April 28th. 1974 (?). So it was written around 1974, or somewhere around that period. Must be a young woman then she. What was this madam mystery like in her youth? Was she…yeah…a flower child, did she drink and take drugs…live a life dreaming of Yasgur's farm and going there to get her soul free? At this point, Mrs. Bento fell back, and reflected upon her younger days in Hong Kong. Women were more conservative, but they'd already begun to walk out of their kitchens and homes to join the work force, as office clerks, bank staffs and civil servants. Mrs. Bento once worked in a bank for five years. She fondly recalls her bank uniform - Cheongsams that changed colour every year - olive drab, steel grey, and her favourite: the colour of Medjool dates…
Unable to find an appropriate name for the museum, they resolve to use the originally idea of Photo Museum, but adding the acronym YTT, which stands for "Yesterday Today Tomorrow". This promptly gives the Museum a bit more character, plus covering pretty much of every period of photography.
Before tonight's dinner, Mr. Bento did spend some sleepless nights sculpting the photo museum advisory board. He is a good amateur photographer. During his time in Hong Kong he worked as the chief sales executive for J. H. Trachsler, which was the local distributor for professional photographic equipment. Commercial activities in Hong Kong reached its early boom at the end of the seventies, and photography in this arena were mainly occupied by foreigners - people from Australia, UK and the States. At the same time it also created opportunities for the locally born, leaving gateway for the emergence of local commercial photographers. Business was flourishing and the Trachsler company sold top of the line view camera like Sinar, the legendary movie camera Bolex, Broncolor and Balcar - both prestigious strobes for studio, and professional photo tripods such as Manfrotto and Foba. This area is the commercial branch of photography, demanding the handsomest pay. Working in this field, Bento was familiar with photo technique as well as the professional photographic scene at that time. After moving to Toronto he still practices photography, and as time goes by, gets to know other Toronto photographers. There are a number of people mapping his mind that he thinks might form a good advisory board. For the practical side, Wandy is definitely in. Before immigrating to Canada she worked for many years as a magazine editor in Hong Kong, and now can surely help to handle administrative work with little, or no difficulties.
Bill is another one. He is actually a friend of both George and Bento. He used to work as a cinematographer in Hong Kong, now retired in Toronto and lives north of the city. Still active in his early eighties he practises Tai Chi, has a clear mind and loads of energy. Professional experience from his former career would help to shape a better vision of the museum. The Japanese friend Yoji Kobayashi was a practicing commercial photographer based in Toronto for 25 years. As the photography business began to dwindle in the late nineties, he turned to teach at a photography school. Now in his mid-seventies he is still very healthy and active, and has been helping to archive community activities of the Japanese Cultural Centre.
Then Michael Schmid, whom Bento met through a Toronto writer, is a Canadian photographer and teacher based in Ottawa. Dwelling deep in philosophical thinking on contemporary visual culture, no other person than he more qualified to provide different perspectives to help steer the photo collection. As for George himself, he's a videographer. During his many visits to Korea he acquainted a Korean curator Kim Chul-Soon. By inviting Kim to sit on the advisory board, there will be better coverage of contemporary Asian photography. Bento also suggests Hilly. He knew her in Hong Kong when she worked as a professional photographer many years ago. The only problem is, Bento heard from another friend recently that Hilly is now roaming somewhere in India, joining Salopek in part of his epic 21,000 miles journey, retracing steps of our ancestors' global migration on foot. Finding her might post a challenge. In any case Bento would give it a try through friends.
With the name list for the advisory board roughly formed, the second step is to get approval from each person, and should all agree to do it, call for a meeting to orientate. Since some of the members are physically absent in Toronto, they can only call up a meeting by video conferencing.
A panoramic lake and city view. George and Wandy's apartment overlooks east, sweeping a wide, nearly 270 degrees to the south-west of Lake Ontario, which guarantees spectacular scenes of sunrise and sunset. They know what they've got - a million dollar view. But somehow, they still feel overwhelmed by the generous supply of natural light - banks of windows that practically embracing the flat from ceiling to floor, like a solarium not to exaggerate. The light is very welcoming in the Winter months, it's much weaker and the day is short. In the Summer, when the couple returns from hot and humid Hong Kong to dryer and cooler Toronto, their sleep is often disturbed in early morning hours, streaks of strong lights seeping in from small openings and hairline cracks through the blackout curtains. Regardless of this bit of 'discomfort', their friends always admire the light-filled condo and the openness of the view from a high point. This evening Mr. and Mrs. Bento are dinning with George and Wandy in their flat, sharing wonderful home-prepared food, getting dazzled in this magic hour by the gorgeously painted sky.
"Hmm this is so delicious George, smells wonderful and tastes so yummy. Did you spend the whole afternoon making it?" Mrs. Bento raves about the lotus root pancake George made for their supper. George is a vegetarian. Both Bentos love vegetarian food and for tonight Mrs. Bento brought over aloo gobi - an Indian veggie dish made with potatoes, cauliflower and Indian spices. She knows this is one of George's favourites. Wandy loves Chinese food and she has made mapo tofu. She always gets freshly made tofu from Korean town because it has better texture and taste.
"This tofu is fabulous!" exclaimed Mr. Bento. Mrs. Bento nods with her mouth full, analyzing the different layers of favours, the pungent, sharp and fiery gravy sunk deep into chunks of white, soft and silken, jello-like tofu. Next comes numbness in her tongue.
"How did you make this Mapo tofu? Did some expert share with you the secret to cook?" Mr. Bento asks Wandy as she walks over to the open kitchen fetching more steamed rice.
"My teacher is not a chef, he's YouTube." Wandy replies smilingly.
Mapo Tofu is a traditional Sichuan Cuisine Dish, named after the pockmarked (ma) wife (po) who supposedly invented it at her husband's restaurant. The main ingredient is bean curd. But it is the spicy sauce that sets it apart from any other way of cooking this seemingly plain and tasteless food. The fiery sauce is made of douban (fermented broad bean and chili paste) and douchi (fermented black beans). To add texture Wandy substituted the minced pork with mock meat - a form of wheat gluten. While the soft white cubes tangoing with the oily red suspension in the wok, she kicked in the final ingredients - sprinkling handfuls of freshly cracked Sichuan peppercorn and diced green scallions - Bam bam bam!
"I love the stir-fry baby bok choy, fresh and in season. The diced garlic adds so much aroma and taste Wandy" George said.
"Oh yes, I'm using only organic ginger and garlic now. It was hard to find them before but now they are everywhere. You have to know what organic really looks like to avoid buying something that's not. It's funny when you think of it - natural grown food becoming special grown food."
"And we're not far from eating computer printed food!" said Mr. Bento, "At the moment manufacturers are still using edible ingredients. For tomorrow, when technology comes up with even cheaper sources and easier methods of preparing, most food ingredients may be just synthetic, and the meat - probably lab-grown."
"Well I can't imagine the food we have to eat in the future, I mean if we run out of the types of food we are eating now. I heard that people have been preparing to survive on insects and worms, and burbling about their nutrition and protein." A shiver runs down Mrs. Bento's spine as she speaks. Blame it on her imaginative association with flying cockroaches, which are not uncommon in Hong Kong.
"Ah well, let's enjoy the wonderful food we have for now. After dinner I'll brew some vintage pu-erh tea, then more on the members of the photo museum. I imagine you already have some candidates in mind Bento?" asks George as he casually picks up some potatoes from the aloo gobi.
"Vintage pu-erh! These days could fetch up to thousands of dollars! This is a crazy world, crazy standards crazy value. By the way, would you agree to shorten the name photo museum to PMuseum? Hmm maybe not, it sounds too much like pee museum, which might well be, another museum. What about Pho Museum? No no no, not noodle museum! But photo museum is so generic. Light Museum? Photon Museum? Look Museum? Unfortunately all these names seem to refer to something else." Mr. Bento's voice tones down a notch as he ponders the question.