Author: Christine Beaudoin

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Arts

Art intervention at Place des Arts: When critique invites itself into real estate

The Shock Value Collective projects images onto Maestria's sales office as a form of critique of real estate, May 30, 2021

Concordia students produce art interventions criticizing real estate in Montreal, encouraging the public to discuss housing issues.

An art intervention was staged on the Maestria Condominiums’ sales office in Place des Arts on Saturday, May 30. A group of four Concordia students and their professor were behind it.

Known as the Shock Value Collective, Thomas Heinrich, Gabriel Townsend Darriau, Christine White and Madelyn Capozzi, along with their professor, Marie-Sophie Banville, hope to stimulate discussions about an issue that Montrealers know all too well: the housing crisis.

Last week’s art intervention, led by Heinrich, is the first of four that will occur throughout the summer. These research projects are the culmination of the first iteration of Excess and the City, a course given by the Anti-Speculation desk of the Office of Rules and Norms at Concordia. 

Heinrich’s intervention, Concrete Capital, projected images onto the luxury condominium project, located on a small yet highly valued piece of land.

Folks taking advantage of the end of the curfew in Montreal walked by the projection, some curiously lifting their heads to see what the buzz was about. Passerbys read “700 000 000” on several images — the projected cost of Maestria’s luxury housing project. 

The zeros in the million dollar figure were sometimes replaced with the Google Street View screenshots of the piece of land over the last two decades; showing how little it has physically changed. 

Heinrich views critiquing real estate through art as a “very unusual” way of approaching the subject. He explains that students who study financial real estate are normally those who wish to become developers, or simply, “financially savvy.”

Maestria, who’s major investors include the Fonds immobilier de solidarité FTQ (Quebec Workers Federation), also happens to be the largest real estate development to have set foot in Quartier des Spectacles, according to a press release from 2019.

Along with investing $700 million in luxury condominium projects, the Quebec Workers Federation recently boasted about investing in social housing projects. But in comparison, the Fonds immobilier de solidarité FTQ told The Concordian only a total of $116 million was spent towards building and renovating 6,091 low- and middle-income household units across the province.

The Fonds immobilier de solidarité FTQ said in a statement to The Concordian that they knew nothing about the art intervention, nor were they approached by the collective.

In fact, it was not the Shock Value Collective’s intention to shame Maestria, and by extension, the Fonds immobilier de solidarité FTQ. According to Heinrich, those who participate in these projects work within “what they believe is right.” 

Their goal is rather to invite “regular people” to ask the following question: Why is there a growing housing crisis in Montreal?

The students’ professor, Banville, believes that not understanding why the housing crisis is happening adds a “layer of anxiety” to those affected by it.

The artist’s role in answering these questions, according to Banville, is by “making the issue visible, more understandable, and being able to feel [it].” 

With that in mind, Banville has faith that the projects put together by the Shock Value Collective have the power to engage the audience on an emotional level.

Photograph by Christine Beaudoin

Categories
Student Life

Wedding on a diet: getting married during COVID-19

When the pandemic strips milestones to the bone

Oct. 3rd, 2:30 p.m.: Six people are standing in room 2.17 of Quebec’s courthouse. The first is a court clerk, the second and the third stand before the first, the fourth and fifth are witnesses and the last is a member of the audience. The occasion: my wedding.

I have never really been the type of person to spend time with my head in the clouds about what my wedding would look like, but I certainly never pictured it like this.

If anything, I thought the guest count would be beyond one. Even though I haven’t been bathing in wedding fantasies since my childhood, when my partner proposed to me on New Year’s Eve, we knew we had a big party to plan.

Fast-forward to March. It seemed to us like we already had it all: a large expanse of land in Rimouski lent to us for free, a lake, space to camp and nearby accommodation, many talented artist friends to set the mood with music and decorations, family members to serve  as amazing cooks, near limitless access to alcohol, and many, many cherished guests. Set for Aug. 15, 2020, our celebration was going to be a banger.

Then came the big, the bad, the-still-ongoing COVID-19.

April 10: The Legault government announces that all public events are to be cancelled until Aug. 31. On the Facebook event for our wedding, our guests are notified that the celebration is pushed to 2021, or at least until it becomes safe to party again.

We decided that in the meantime, we would still get the legal ceremony done. In response to COVID-19, Quebec’s courthouse allowed for a total of only seven guests in addition to the two mandatory witnesses. This was just enough to accommodate the core of our families, except for my brother and his girlfriend who have been avoiding all human contact since the pandemic hit.

Instead of a proper honeymoon, my partner and I planned for a week of relaxing celebration in Mont-Tremblant with some of the family that had attended the wedding. For the time being, it was the least we could do to underline the milestone.

In late September, as the second wave hit, our nine guests withdrew themselves from the wedding, one by one. Coming from out of town, entering Montreal which was turning into a red zone represented a risk they were not willing to take, even to witness our union before law in-person. Only via Zoom would they join the ceremony.

Sept. 27: Following a difficult phone call with my mother concerning Montreal’s official red zoning, my partner and I decided to forego our stay in Mont-Tremblant for the safety of our family.

Less than a week from our wedding, we were stripped of our guests, our “honeymoon’’ and our witnesses.

Even though we knew a big celebration would eventually come, and that our relationship would survive these relatively soft hardships, a hollow feeling of despair started to creep up on me. Sure, we would find new witnesses fairly easily. Sure we would get married. Sure, we would still have a good time drinking champagne. But, there was a but.

Thursday, Oct. 1: My phone buzzes. Bota Bota, the famous travelling ferry spa in the Old Port of Montreal, is on the line: they are informing me that my reservation for Saturday will be refunded due to their baths needing to be closed, following Legault’s latest announcements. As such, my latest attempt at making a celebration out of my marriage got thrown out the window. Out on a long walk to breathe it out, I took a break to sit on the sidewalk and let my tears flow.

But, at least we have each other. That is what weddings are about, right?

Friday, Oct. 2, 10 p.m.: My partner and I are writing our Goldschläger-induced vows when, all of a sudden, his computer screen lights up. Familiar faces are all over it. Confused but only for a short time, I soon recognize that what I have before me is a surprise bachelor/bachelorette Zoom party — and what will become a nasty hangover on my wedding day.

Saturday, Oct. 3: My husband and I are on the rooftop of the hotel, spending the night drinking prosecco with the witnesses and an extra friend.

Although I could count the number of people present on one hand, I was tremendously grateful for all the little things we had been able to do to celebrate. It was as though the Draconian diet on which our celebration was put on made for every little bit of time spent in good company the most savoury bite of my existence.

I can only imagine the blast of flavours that will bring the big wedding celebration, whenever that may be.

 

Photo by Christine Beaudoin

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News

Extinction Rebellion’s smear campaign against RBC

 Extinction Rebellion Quebec’s #QuitRBC campaign launched on Wednesday

On Wednesday, a handful of protestors stood outside  the Royal Bank of Canada on Mont-Royal Ave.asking the public to remove their money from the bank. Meanwhile, other protestors threw fake petroleum at an RBC branch on Sherbrooke St.

“Mess up our ca$h, we’ll mess with you,” states the Facebook post by Extinction Rebellion Quebec (XRQC), showcasing photos of their actions.

The environmental activism organization,notorious for its civil disobedience actions, famously scaled the Jacques Cartier bridge in October 2019 to pressure the government into enacting climate policies. This time around, the group is trying to pressure banks into divesting from fossil fuels.

Divestment as an active tool

Universities have often been the centre of fossil fuel divestment debates, but XRQC is inviting the public to scrutinize banks’ investments as well. According to Gregory Mikkelson, who resigned from teaching at McGill after the university repeatedly refused to divest from fossil fuels in spite of its pupils’ demands, banks are similar to those educational institutions in the symbolic value of their investments. However, banks ‟have a much more immediate and practical effect on whether fossil fuel production is being expanded or not,’’ said Mikkelson.

Mikkelson cited a paper from the Rainforest Action Network to support XRQC’s statement that RBC is the greatest investor in fossil fuels among Canadian banks, hence being the primary target of the protest.

Concordia has committed to divesting from coal, oil and gas by 2025.

Relaxed demonstration, invested demonstrators

Outside of the Mont-Royal Ave. branch, a protester used a megaphone to list the reasons why RBC is Canada’s most “disgusting” bank. They said, for example, that “[RBC is] the first bank in the world to finance tar sands.”

Some passersby expressed disapproval of the protest, while others stopped to learn more about the cause. A man on a bike stopped to shout his approval of the demonstration, saying, “I’m sick of [banks] exploiting the planet!” He was the most aggressive presence on the premises, as both police and protesters stood quietly in place while RBC customers shyly slipped through the protest line to enter the arch-windowed building.

When asked about their presence at the protest, one individual, who asked to stay anonymous, confessed that “[they are] against investment in fossil fuels, and banks invest in fossil fuels, so that is why [they] are here.”

“The future is not petroleum,” they added.

Beyond RBC

While the Royal Bank of Canada justifies their investments in fossil fuels as a means to achieve a green economy, both protestors and Mikkelson argue that there are better ways to invest our money.

“There’s a whole local economy that is developing without fossil fuels … It exists, we can do it,” explained a protestor. Mikkelson expressed a similar idea, saying, “not only are RBC’s fossil fuel investments killing the planet, they are also killing jobs.”

While XRQC encourages patrons to move their money from RBC to better institutions, they will not provide financial advice. However, they offer information on their newly launched website so the public can make informed decisions on the matter.

Upon being asked about the #QuitRBC campaign and learning about its message, some RBC customers are reconsidering their business with the banking giant. Zachari Réhel, a University of Montreal cognitive neuroscience student, responded that if he had to make a decision now, he would switch banks. However, Réhel specifies that since doing so is a long process, he would conduct research on other banks to avoid settling for the “lesser evil.” Alexandre Binette, a resident of Montreal, admits to receiving “excellent service” from RBC, although having done research on XRQC’s actions and demands, he feels compelled to question himself on ‟what [he] does with his money and where it goes.”

The Royal Bank of Canada declined to comment.

 

Photos by Christine Beaudoin

Categories
Student Life

Legendary tears: Tree planting during a pandemic

Clear cut debris create obstacles, making tree planting more difficult. (Chandler, QC)

In mid-May, I gathered with 20-some fellow tree planters in Bonaventure, Gaspésie for the same reasons as usual: money, outdoor living and friendships forged through adversity and isolation. The only difference in the formula this time was COVID-19.

Before the season started, we were informed of the procedures put in place to prevent an outbreak: allowing a maximum of two people in the same room at once, mandatory disinfections of the kitchen after use and the wearing of visors inside cars. I quickly realized that only the visor rule was being respected. Even this simple instruction only lasted about a week, though, after which car floors were littered with dirty and broken visors, among other planting-related objects. Quite frankly, it felt like we lived in a world unaffected by the pandemic.

Forestry activities were included in the list of essential services put together by the Canadian government last spring, which gave silviculture companies the go-ahead for their 2020 season (silviculture, in case you didn’t know, is the practice of controlling forest growth for timber production). This meant that thousands of young folks across the country were able to take on the ‘Canadian Rite of Passage,’ (a.k.a going tree planting) for another year. You’ve probably met one of them, even if you aren’t already a tree planter yourself. Some of them, like myself, are students at Concordia.

The following images are an explanatory testament to my 2020 season of tree planting, cut short due to an injury. All photos were taken on 35mm film with a Pentax K1000, a 50mm lens and a fascination with the job’s aesthetically pleasing sceneries.

 

Categories
News

Erin O’Toole: From MP to PM real quick (maybe)

The new Conservative leader’s potentially quick rise to national power

Erin O’Toole recently became the Conservative Party’s new leader after a whopping 57 per cent vote victory. Self-described as a military man who will fight for the rights of Canadians, O’Toole’s election comes at a critical time in Canadian history, as the country struggles with a pandemic and the Liberal Party loses trust following the WE Charity controversy. In just a few months, he could even become Prime Minister.

This parallel universe in which O’Toole becomes the leader of Canada just a few months after winning the leadership of his own party exists because Parliament is currently in prorogation.

But what exactly is prorogation?

According to the CBC, prorogation “suspends all parliamentary activity, including all legislation and committee work,” until Parliament is next summoned.

In a nutshell, prorogation is like hitting Parliament’s reset button. Ongoing committee work such as bills, studies and investigations are paused during this period and can be reintroduced once the break is over. To top it off, a fresh agenda will be proposed by the Trudeau government upon the reopening of Parliament activities.

In point of fact, Justin Trudeau considers that Parliament has been due for a reset because “the throne speech [they] delivered eight months ago had no mention of COVID-19.” Trudeau said  his government wants to test the confidence of the House.

On Sept. 23, the new session will begin. A speech from the throne will be given, and a confidence vote will be taken.

If confidence is lost…

Should the House decide that it does not have confidence in the government, elections would be triggered.

Canadian elections have historically been ruled by the Conservative Party and the Liberal Party, suggesting that a race to power in this scenario would be dominated by either Justin Trudeau or Erin O’Toole.

However, O’Toole does not intend to trigger this scenario. In an interview with The West Block in Toronto, the pro-choice leader states that Fall elections are not his priority.

 

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