Of Africa: "Worn: Shaping Black Feminine Identity" by Karin Jones

It has been some time since I have last posted here, but I can assure you that I have been hard at work studying, reading, etc. So I hope that this will only benefit and enhance future posts, and I want to thank you for your patience these past several months :)

Recently, the city of Toronto has become a multiculturalism enthusiast's dream with the hosting of the Pan Am Games in July. We have had many tourists from abroad (some of whom I have had the pleasure of interacting with at the Royal Ontario Museum), and there are many ethnic and cultural events scattered around the city for the public to take part in.

Of course, celebrations of ethnic identity are not straightforward: along with the pleasure, there is often pain. We can say we appreciate others' cultures all we want, but with that, we also have to hear people out on the issues and challenges they face, oftentimes because of those identities.

Because of this, I find it interesting that after several months' worth of hiatus, I return to my volunteer post at the Royal Ontario Museum to a number of new exhibits and installations in the Canadian galleries where I work. One of these, Worn: Shaping Black Feminine Identity by Vancouver-based artist Karin Jones, is particularly noteworthy for the ROM initiative it is part of: Of Africa.

Of Africa is a ROM project several years in the making, aimed towards presenting a more diverse image of Africa and its diaspora, dispelling the myth that the African continent is culturally monolithic (i.e. that all Africans can be grouped into a single culture). Also, the use of contemporary modern art will also showcase the vitality of African cultures: they are not trapped in some distant past, but incredibly vibrant and open to creative expression and innovation.

Worn, appearing as it does in the Canadian gallery, is meant to speak about the historical and contemporary reality of African Canadians, working in juxtaposition to the artifacts from European settlement that surround the temporary exhibition space in the rest of the gallery. The art installation is a dress made of synthetic hair in a style evoking the late 19th century bustle dress associated with the Victorian era. In the following pictures, you can see the intricate detailing of the braided hair. In this, we see Jones' argument that African arts (as exemplified through the braiding) are just as beautiful and refined as the European decorative and fashion arts that our society so admires.

You may note that the dress is black. This is not only because of the colour of the synthetic hair, reminiscent of African and Caribbean braids, but because the Victorian dress Jones meant to emulate was a mourning dress. In her own words:

For me, the Victorian mourning dress is a symbol of sadness, "high" culture, the British Empire, and the imposition of feminine beauty norms.

[...] 

I wear my African-Canadian identity much as a Victorian woman would have worn this type of dress: proudly, but uncomfortably, shaped and also constrained by it.

Note as well the way the dress is displayed. Cotton balls and hair bolls are scattered upon the floor, testament to the role that Africans have played in the construction of the European empires and the settler colonies that now form today's First World - including Canada.

Canadians may speak of the abolition of slavery and the Underground Railroad that allowed African slaves in the United States to find freedom, but we also cannot forget that we, too, have benefited from the "invisible labour of thousands of Africans": not just in the 19th century at the height of the British Empire, but also into the present day.

Sources

Of Africa. Royal Ontario Museum. n.d. Web. 31 July 2015.

Worn: Shaping Black Feminine Identity. Royal Ontario Museum. n.d. Web. 31 July 2015.

Image Credits

All photos (c) Kita Inoru

Six Months In: Things I've Learned as a Gallery Interpreter at the Royal Ontario Museum

In terms of my volunteer work at the Royal Ontario Museum, I have recently hit a personal milestone: I have completed my time as what's called a provisional Gallery Interpreter (i.e. a trainee volunteer) and am now officially an active member of the ROM's Department of Museum Volunteers. I do get some perks from this: best one being my own ID badge/key card so I don't need to trouble fellow volunteers to let me in each time I show up for a shift.

The ROM's famous Rotunda Ceiling mosaic. The text reads: THAT ALL MEN MAY KNOW HIS WORK

So what's a Gallery Interpreter, you ask? What we do is go out into the galleries with a small specimen or artifact that visitors could interact with. Engagements take the form of a short Q&A session, where we use guiding questions to offer information about both the object(s) we have, and the surrounding relevant museum displays. I myself spend most of my time in the two Canadian galleries at the ROM - the Daphne Cockwell Gallery of Canada: First Peoples; and the Sigmund Samuel Gallery of Canada - with one specimen each: a miniature replica birchbark canoe in the first, and a late 19th-century French-Canadian maple sugar mould in the latter.

A "period room" set up in the style of 16th century England in the Samuel European Galleries at the ROM. This is an example of one of my favourite parts of the museum, albeit not where I actually work.

Officially, I have only been a Gallery Interpreter since this past July, but before that, there had been more rigorous training where I had gone out into the galleries accompanied by a more experienced GI (as we're called for short), meaning that I have been out and about in those galleries for approximately half a year by this point. And in this half a year, I have learned a lot of valuable lessons along the way: things that I am sharing with you now as some of my favourite highlights thus far in my life as a Gallery Interpreter at the ROM.

1. Nothing quite beats working with historical objects.

Especially when said objects just happen to be particularly old, or beautiful, or relevant to your field of interest. I still remember when, in the early stages of my training (i.e. before I was even in the galleries), I was given a demo from an instructor on how one of these Q&A sessions would work. The gentleman had a piece of mosaic with him, and I was to pose as the "visitor". I knew going into the dialogue that the mosaic was used in the ROM's Ancient Roman gallery, but imagine my surprise when I discovered that the fragment I was handling was actually 2,000 years old, and a genuine artifact! And since our initial training included objects from both the ROM's Natural History and World Culture collections, I'm sure that's not even the oldest thing I handled by the time I was done.

2. The fascination applies to visitors as well.

I daresay some of the giddiness that comes from working with historical artifacts might seem to come just from my being somewhat of a history enthusiast. However, it's not just me or fellow museum volunteers and employers who get like that: the visitors do, too. For instance, while the miniature birchbark canoe I work with is a replica, I stand near some First Nations birchbark canoes that are well over a hundred years old. And people love it when I point that out!

One of the original First Nations birchbark canoes at the ROM. I work with a smaller, miniature version when I chat with visitors.

The same sort of thing happens with the maple sugar mould as well. Many visitors are fascinated by the fact that not only am I holding an artifact from the late 19th century, but that (with gloves and my supervision) they are welcome to touch it as well. GIs are trained to make sure that artifacts are handled with care at all times (for example: cupping our hands below the visitor's to catch any objects that might fall), so it's a fun and safe experience for everyone involved.

3. Some people just want to be taught.

I've seen this a number of times already in the past six months. The intent for the GIs is to engage with visitors in a conversation, and the Q&A idea stems from that. However, I have had several instances where visitors who are interested don't want the preamble. They'll come right up to me, point at what I'm holding, and ask, "What is that?" Depending on the overall tone of the conversation so far, I sometimes respond by asking for guesses, but it certainly has happened where I end up just telling them directly, and the visitor is very appreciative for the information. This happens a lot with the maple sugar mould in particular, since it's not as immediately recognizable an object as the birchbark canoe. I can see how trying to guess what it is can be rather intimidating, actually.

19th-century French-Canadian maple sugar moulds at the ROM.

4. Sometimes, I am the one who gets taught - and that's even better.

Just about every single GI has had an encounter like this: a visitor comes by who turns out to be an expert in the field relating to the object in question. I hear a lot of these stories coming from the Natural History sections of the ROM in particular, especially relating to children who are currently in their dinosaur/animal enthusiast stage.

I myself have had a similar experience with the miniature birchbark canoe. One woman I met turned out, in fact, to be First Nations herself (specifically Ojibway) and made similar miniature canoes as a hobby. So she was the one telling me a lot about the process she used: soaking the birchbark to make it pliable, sewing it with sinew (the ROM's replica uses thread), and even beading her canoes for decoration. That was definitely a rewarding experience, and I hope to have more in the future!

5. Being a GI can be a great chance for cultural exchange.

Folk musicians from the ROM's Polish Heritage Day in the summer of 2014, one of many such Heritage Days devoted to Canada's many ethnic communities as part of the ROM's summer activities.

 The ROM receives visitors from all over the world - and even if it didn't, Canada is a sufficiently multicultural nation for us to meet visitors from all sorts of ethnicities and cultural backgrounds. What this means is that some of the conversations I have had as a GI focus around comparisons between cultures: Canadian and the visitor's culture of origin.

Some such instances that come to my mind right now include a Swedish visitor talking about woodworking techniques while looking at the birchbark canoes, an East Asian family comparing the qualities of birchbark as a construction material compared to bamboo, a Brazilian family comparing the handiwork of Canada's First Nations peoples with their own indigenous crafts, yet another Brazilian visitor telling me about how rubber is made from tree sap harvested like Canada's maple sap is, and visitors from maple-producing parts of the United States giving me tips and pointers on some of the inner workings of the business.

And that's just scratching the surface!

6. Sometimes, the visitor's more interested in me than in the objects.

I've had cases where overseas tourists are more interested in sharing to me about their thoughts on their trip to Canada thus far than anything directly related to the objects I'm working with. And that's fine - if everyone is comfortable and at ease, I am more than willing to listen and, hopefully, provide further positive memories for them to bring home.

There's also been one occasion where I was in the First Peoples gallery with the birchbark canoe, and a visitor asked me if I was First Nations myself. I told him that no, I wasn't; I'm actually Chinese. He was surprised, since he thought that if I was working in a First Nations-related gallery, I would likely have to be First Nations myself. That's the sort of question that gave me pause to think for quite a long time afterwards.

7. Because, like it or not, politics does get involved sometimes.

Perhaps this is a lesson that's rather gallery-specific, as I have only had this sort of thing happen to me when I'm in the First Peoples gallery. Many visitors are genuinely curious about the place that the First Peoples have in Canada, and I, being a visible ROM worker, naturally become a magnet for those questions.

Modern-art sculpture inspired by the traditional Plains First Nations eagle feather headdress: the wapaha.

 This is especially the case since the history of Canada's First Peoples is a painful one: one that is based on what once was a form of cooperation between Native Peoples and Europeans, but that degenerated into oppression and discrimination before now steadily working towards some form of reconciliation and recognition. So it's understandable that some visitors are concerned, for instance, that the ROM is presenting a colonialist view on the history - particularly since so many of our artifacts come from 19th and early 20th century European donors. Other times, however, I am met with surprise that the First Peoples and their cultures have survived through the tribulation into the present day: their view was that this had all been in the past, but the ROM is careful to show the First Peoples in the present as well.

In both cases, I respond the same way: acknowledge the questions and comments, but encourage the visitors to direct them to the actual ROM curators, who could give more thorough answers than me. Particularly in the former case, things can get very touchy, very fast; and as a GI, I'm not in the position to actually discuss the ROM's political stance. So I pass it on, and hope for the best.

I will, however, reveal this much: the First Peoples gallery at the ROM was designed with the input of many First Nations advisers, and the ROM has been careful to make sure that all the current interpretations and commentaries shown are actually from a Native perspective.

Six months in, and I've already learned so much. Who knows where I'll be after another six!

Images

All photographs from the Royal Ontario Museum, taken by Kita Inoru

Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Walker at the Château Ramezay, Montreal

As a volunteer at the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto, I know that sometimes, finding out the true information about an artifact is easier said than done. This is particularly the case once the curators start working with donated items: things that sometimes come with stories attached to them which might be intriguing - and sound very, very cool! - but might not actually be the historical reality. Family heirlooms, objects acquired by collectors who lived and died centuries before the date of acquisition (and oftentimes with shoddy record-keeping habits)...all of these could potentially lead historians to come away with more questions than answers.

The story I'm about to tell you is a long one, with considerable historical background needing to be explained beforehand, so please bear with me. It is also, in fact, not from the Royal Ontario Museum. Instead, it features a little historical mystery that I've recently come across on a recent trip to Montreal and Quebec City. (Yes, the so-long-desired research trip that I'd talked about in an earlier post has finally come.) While I was in Montreal, I had the opportunity to visit the Château Ramezay in the historic part of the city.

View of the Chàteau Ramezay from across the street

The Château Ramezay (lit. "Castle Ramezay" in French) does not look like a very grand, imposing building - at least not when compared to similar "castles" elsewhere in the world. But in terms of French Canada, a place like this was already quite luxurious. The property was first owned by the Ramezay family, who were part of the colonial administration in 18th-century Montreal during the French regime; they were, in other words, part of the elite. After this, the building was occupied by a trading company, before becoming the official residence for the British Governor of Quebec whenever he was in the city.

Occupants of the Château Ramezay over the years; immediately relevant to us are the first four entries.

But it is the fourth entry, "Armée des États-Unis 1775-1776" that I am going to focus on here. From the fall of 1775 until the fall of 1776, the Continental Army in what is now the United States attempted to invade Quebec. The details of that campaign and how they played out would be better saved for another day, but for our intents and purposes, the Americans successfully took and occupied the city of Montreal from November 1775 to June 1776, when the British finally drove them back.

During this occupation, there was, in fact, a delegation sent to Montreal from the Continental Congress. Their hope was to be able to draw up support for their cause from the local French-Canadian population, but by the time they arrived on April 29, 1776, a winter's worth of increasingly sour relations between the French-Canadians and their (mostly) English-American occupiers meant that this attempt was doomed from the beginning. By the end of May, the entire delegation (and then some) had left Montreal for the American colonies to continue their efforts elsewhere - and ultimately help pave the way towards the Declaration of Independence in July that same year.

So where do "Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Walker" come into all of this? A lot of it can be seen in this document held at the Château Ramezay, which served as the Continental Army's headquarters during the occupation:

Letter dated to May 11, 1776, at the Château Ramezay, written by delegates to Montreal from the Continental Congress

The text may be hard to decipher, but fortunately, the curators at the Château Ramezay included a transcription in the display:

Montreal, 11th May 1776

Dear Sir,

We desire that you will shew to Mrs Walker every civility in your power and facilitate her on her way to Philadelphia, the fear of cruel treatment from the enemy on account of the strong attachement to, and zeal of her husband in the cause of the united Colonies induces her to depart precipitately from her home; & to undergo the fatigues of a long and hazardous journey. We are sorry for the occasion of writing this letter & beg your attention to alleviate her distress; your known politeness and humanity, we are sensible, without this recommendation from us, would prompt you to perform the friendly office. We are with great esteem & sincere regard for yourself & family.

Your affectionate hum. Servts,

Samuel Chase
Charles Carroll of Carrollton
B. Franklin

(And, if anyone is wondering, yes, "B. Franklin" is who you think he is! Chalk that up for something cool: a 1776 document written by Benjamin Franklin held in Montreal - and I saw it firsthand.)

Now, safe passage, as this document asks for on behalf of Mrs. Walker, was certainly needed. As implied, Thomas Walker had been, ever since he first arrived in Montreal from Boston in 1763, a strong supporter of what he held to be the proper rights of British subjects. What this meant is that he was an advocate for the presence of elected government and other benefits that many American colonists had become accustomed to by the 1760s. Ultimately, this led to considerable friction between Walker and the British colonial administration: Walker was strongly opposed to the Quebec Act in 1774 (which, while granting a variety of civil liberties to the Catholic French-Canadians, also firmly denied the request of English-Canadian merchants like Walker for an elected assembly) and, by 1775, was openly in favour of the Patriots fighting in the Thirteen Colonies. He was not only vocal in his opinions, but took various modes of action: meeting with other American sympathizers in the city, urging Canada to join in the Continental Congress, and ultimately recruiting members of the local population to fight for the Patriots against the British. It was Thomas Walker, in fact, who hosted the delegation from Congress in his house during their stay in the spring of 1776, and he left along with them - the reason why the letter speaks of Mrs. Walker specifically is because Mr. had already gone the night before!

With such a fascinating story to tell (just the idea that Canada was, in some way, involved in the American Revolution might be news to some), it's no wonder that, in 1905, the Château Ramezay received a pair of portraits from a donor who believed them to be depictions of Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Walker.

That's all fine and dandy - and, again, it makes for a great story - but when I saw these two portraits together with a placard giving a short spiel about Thomas Walker's involvement in the American Revolution, I was skeptical. Unconvinced, if you will. I don't doubt the veracity of the historical events described - I had seen them in enough sources whilst working on my Hetalia fanfiction years ago to know they were true - but I'm not convinced these two portraits are of the Walkers at all. Or, at least, not the Walkers the Château Ramezay wanted.

There area few reasons for my skepticism. First of all, the Château Ramezay said that Thomas Walker lived from 1717 to 1788, although it did not offer any such dates for Mrs. Walker (née Jane Hughes, by the way). Even allowing for a slight margin of error on the date of birth, this means that by 1775/1776, we would be dealing with a man well into middle age, at least. Of course, these portraits could be of the Walkers in their youth, but that leads to an even greater problem, as far as I am concerned. From everything that I could see - the style of painting, the subjects' appearances (dress, hairstyle, etc.) - these two portraits look to me to be from the early 19th century instead of the mid- to late 18th.

All this means that this one small corner of the Château Ramezay left me with far more questions than answers. Are these posthumous portraits? That's certainly plausible. I could imagine, say, a descendant wanting an image of his/her ancestors several decades down the road. But if not, then who are this couple - and how did the donor of these paintings come to not only believe they are Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Walker, and how did he convince the curators of the Château Ramezay of such?

The thing I love about historical mysteries is that they can be a lot of fun to pursue. If the time and opportunity arose for me to do that with these two paintings, I certainly would. In the meantime, if anyone reading this is interested, perhaps you'd like to let me know some of your ideas. Who knows? Maybe you'll have the answers after all!

Image Credits

All photographs (c) Kita Inoru

Historical Clothing for Sitters at the ROM's New Fashion Exhibition

Recently, the Patricia Harris Gallery of Textiles & Costume at the Royal Ontario Museum had been closed in preparation for a new exhibition. As a volunteer who is personally a bit more on the introverted side, I'm always aware of what goes on there, seeing as it is one of the quietest and most tucked-away areas of the museum. Well, as of June 21, it's re-opened with not one, but TWO new exhibitions. The first, Cairo Under Wraps: Early Islamic Textiles features some fascinating textiles and clothing from the 7th to 14th centuries. However, this post is about the second new exhibition that's opened up: Fashion Follows Form: Designs for Sitting.

The exhibition focuses on the work of Canadian fashion designer Izzy Camilleri, especially her line IZAdaptive, which was developed specifically for the convenience of wearers in wheelchairs. To do this, she drew off historical examples of clothing that were also designed with sitting in mind: riding habits, breeches/trousers, bustles, etc.

Now, I do not yet have images of Camilleri's own designs and pieces just yet: history nerd that I am, my first visit to the exhibition focused primarily on her historical sources of inspiration. So, here are some of the highlights from that particular subset.

 

Here, we have a 1770s English riding habit that was designed for a woman to wear sidesaddle. You can see that it was made in multiple pieces that simulated the coats and waistcoats worn by men. However, shorter's women's jackets were worn during the 18th century as well, so it's not simply about emulating menswear by any means.

Speaking of 18th century menswear, this was also a piece that was displayed as part of the exhibition. It is also English, and dates back to 1750. What served as Camilleri's inspiration here were the breeches. 18th century breeches were tailored very closely to the wearer's thigh. But can you imagine wearing skintight breeches made out of silk, wool, cotton, or linen? Those fabrics were less forgiving and elastic than today's synthetic materials, so trying to move in something that was too tight would be a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen. So, in order to give a reasonable amount of manoeuvrability, 18th century breeches were also cut to be quite baggy in the rear.

You can really see the bulk in the derrière on this example: a pair of American breeches made between 1775 and 1799. So what's an elegant 18th century gentleman to do? Well, the long, flared skirts of the coat would have covered up this unsightly concession to practicality, thus enabling the wearer to keep up the well-tailored silhouette favoured at the time.

In fact, the coat's skirts also served another purpose re: sitting. There are slits on the side and back of the coat that allowed the skirts to be spread outwards while the wearer was seated (ex. in a chair or on horseback). This meant that sitting down did not entail sitting on a bunched up mass of fabric: again, a design created for comfort.

(On a side note: those slits also made it easier for the 18th century gentleman to wear his sword, which was a key part of formal court dress at the time!)

Now, moving on to one of the classic moments in 19th century women's fashions: the bustle.

This 1880s bustle was made in Canada, and is an example of the underpinnings worn by women in the latter decades of the 19th century. The bustle created a silhouette that emphasized the rear: instead of a bell-shaped skirt, the fabric would be swept backwards to drape down to the floor. Such a look, one would imagine, would make sitting difficult. But in this case, the bustle's structure made things easier: it is made in the style of a crinoline: rather than a solid piece, there are a series of metal pieces connected by strips of fabric. This meant that the bustle had sufficient give and freedom of movement to make it capable of bending when its wearer sat down.

Following along with the bustle silhouette, jackets like this 1887 dolman (of either English or American origin) were designed to flare outwards in the rear as well. Pretty, eh?

So where am I going with all of this? Namely that fashions for sitting are not a recent concession for accessibility or ergonomic purposes. There are plenty of historical instances when people have done the same, seeking to combine fashion with considerations of practicality. Yes, I know that from a 21st century perspective, the vast majority of 18th and 19th century fashions would not seem practical - but these pieces, in the eyes of their original wearers, were.

Image Credits

All photographs shown here were taken by Kita Inoru

When the Telling is Tough: The Case of Passage #5

Note: This is an edited version of a piece I wrote in the summer of 2013, under a different name, as a submission for a newsletter by and for volunteers in the Hands-On departments of the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto. I have since switched to another department, but the arguments within this article are still pertinent today.


Many of the visitors, volunteers, and staff at the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto, Canada, have had the opportunity to view the BIG exhibit in the Costumes and Textiles Gallery that ran from November 2012 to January 2014 – especially its main showcase item. The elegant red and black coat-dress from the House of Dior, Passage #5, was commissioned by the ROM in 2011 for the purpose of this temporary exhibit. It is “big” in many different ways: requiring a vast amount of fabric to create, not to mention a good deal of time and effort 

However, what is notable about Passage #5 is that it was also “big” in an originally unanticipated sense: a controversy. The dress’s designer, John Galliano, was fired from the House of Dior soon after its completion following his arrest for anti-Semitic comments he had made.

When it comes to discriminatory behaviour, anti-Semitism is one of the most offensive forms in the post-Holocaust world that we live in. Therefore, it is unsurprising that Passion No. 5 drew some negative attention due to this incident. On October 23, 2012, the online version of Toronto’s Jewish Tribune published an exchange of letters between the ROM and one of its patrons. The patron, who had received a VIP invitation to BIG’s opening, expressed concerns about the Dior dress: 

“I find extreme difficulty in understanding the rationale of an otherwise worthwhile organization disregarding the conviction on Sept. 8, 2011, of the creator of this very piece, on criminal charges relating to Galliano having uttered in public on multiple occasions antisemitic [sic] statements. With that background I would have expected ROM to sever its connection to the Galliano-produced piece.”

How did the ROM respond to this message? It is, after all, a legitimate concern given the nature of the scandal surrounding Galliano which has, by extension, placed a stigma on Passage #5 itself. Could someone not perceive the ROM’s exhibiting this piece as the curators’ support of the artist who created it and his inappropriate sentiments and behaviour?

However, that was not the ROM’s intention at all. In response to the question raised, ROM Head of Communications Shelagh O’Donnell replied:

“The ROM did not disregard the fact of John Galliano’s antisemitic[sic] statements when it decided to purchase the dress.... The Dior history, and this dress, is now connected to Galliano and his antisemitic[sic] remarks. The ROM will be explicit about this when the dress is exhibited in BIG, and whenever it is displayed. It is by being explicit about the history and associations of the dress that the ROM acts as a responsible museum.”

As it turned out, the ROM did indeed include a summary of the events surrounding Galliano’s dismissal, openly visible on the placard next to the dress, and one of the first things visitors would see upon entering the exhibit.   

What this suggests, in my opinion, is that the ROM’s policy towards this event has been to make it public and, therefore, incite discussion and raise awareness concerning the very real consequences of discriminatory behaviour on one’s livelihood and reputation.

To what extent, though, should museums tell the unpleasant truth about its artefacts? Human nature being what it is, it is impossible for curators not to come across some skeletons in the closet in the process of studying and conserving the items in their collections. The ROM member who had written to express his concerns to the museum had a valid argument. As an institution open to the public, the ROM is indeed responsible for the message it conveys to visitors, and using a dress associated with anti-Semitism as the showpiece for an upcoming exhibit could inadvertently send the wrong message.

However, in my opinion at least, the ROM and its curators did make the right decision in how they chose to address the scandal surrounding Passage #5. Since the ROM is a popular tourist attraction and cultural institution here in Toronto, it is responsible for raising awareness about the darker side of human nature and human history in hopes that visitors and future generations could learn to do better. As the adage goes: “Those who do not learn from the past are doomed to repeat it.” And in making public the scandal surrounding Passage #5, the ROM has allowed those who, like myself, had previously been ignorant of what had happened to know the nature of Galliano’s crime and thus understand the museum’s commitment to telling the truth about history.

References

Jewish Tribune. "We'll let you decide disagreement over dress in ROM's BIG event." Jewish Tribune, 23 Oct. 2012. Web. 11 June 2013.

Image Credits

Photographs from the Royal Ontario Museum's "BIG" exhibit (c) Kita Inoru (taken 6 June 2013)