A coffee with… Karen Tam | Between the neighbors, mountains

When you enter the small exhibition hall swallow the mountains at the McCord Museum, two paintings stare at us.

A man and a woman stare straight ahead, emotionless, in the same pose, both dressed in black. At the feet of each, a chair engraved with the Chinese symbol of double happiness. A few centimeters separate their portraits. This small space, they will never fill it.

“It’s the story of my family, but at the same time, it’s that of many other people too”, sums up Karen Tam, offering me a guided tour on a Friday morning a few minutes before the opening of the premises. to the public (the exhibition continues until August 13).

The man is his great-grandfather. A native of Taishan, in southern China, he landed alone in 1907 in Canada. Women are not welcome – Canada imposes a heavy tax on them to profit from the sweat of these immigrants without offering them the minimum dignity of a family.

His great-grandfather will return twice to China. The first visit, to see his wife. The second, to see the child he had given her during the previous stay. She will die without seeing him again.

The child will grow up in China. In 1967, now a father, he arrived in Montreal with his family to join his grandfather. Grandfather, father and son are finally reunited.

This son, then a teenager, who arrives in the midst of the Quiet Revolution, is Karen Tam’s father. He will open the restaurant Aux Sept Bonheurs in Rosemont, next to the Botanical Garden. His daughter will become a celebrated artist, and a precious witness today for the whole community.

1^er July, the descendants of Chinese immigrants do not have the heart to celebrate. For them, it’s not just Canada’s birthday. It is also the commemoration of the Chinese Immigration Lawand this year marks the 100^e of this “Day of humiliation”.

1^er July 1923, the door was virtually closed to Chinese immigrants. Those who were already Canadian citizens had to walk around with an identity card and were checked by the police.

The first Chinese immigrants – Cantonese – arrived in Montreal in the early 1870s. Around 1900, there were 1,000 of them. Around 1920, nearly 2,000.

At first they opened laundries. These people create a demand for restaurants, groceries and other products from their country of origin. They gather around what The Press in 1902 baptized “Chinatown”.

Buildings already erected, where Irish and other poor immigrants lived, will be “enchinoized”¹. They are often occupied by men who grow old alone, deprived of their families left behind in China and isolated by racist policies.

Today, Chinatown has changed a lot. “The promoters destroyed a good part of it to erect buildings like the Guy-Favreau complex. »

What is happening in Montreal is not unique, she continues^⁠2. “In Philadelphia, they want to build a stadium next door for the 76ers (the basketball team). In New York, there will be a new prison. And in Montreal, what remains of the neighborhood is landlocked and coveted by developers. »

Quebec has just granted it heritage status. “But it’s only for a portion of the neighborhood,” she adds. The risk remains elsewhere. »

The other threat is more intangible and ugly. The pandemic has brought back anti-Chinese and anti-Asian racism, she worries. “It was like a new yellow peril, like history repeating itself. »

Just as people were taking off their masks, a hot new topic monopolized Canadian politics: the Beijing regime’s interference in elections. Once again, prejudices have been uninhibited in the face of a diaspora which has nothing to do with these maneuvers and which is often the first victim.

“I naively thought that we had progressed …”, she laments.

Karen Tam specializes in “immersive installations” – she apologizes for the “overused” term. It combines paintings, sculptures, photos and other artifacts to showcase the Chinese-Canadian community. She is interested in how these people root themselves in a place, represent themselves and are perceived.

She directs my gaze to a photo of a white woman who dresses in traditional Chinese clothing. She comments on it without indignation or judgment. “I am especially fascinated by his fascination! “, she laughs.

At the back of the exhibition are “chinoiseries” – decorative art built by French and Europeans who imitate the Chinese style, or the image they have of it.

In return, immigrants “exoticize” themselves out of necessity. They conform to expectations and prejudices, for example by selling objects and experiences that are “typical” of their culture.

In 2016, an installation by Karen Tam nodded to clichés like karaoke bars. “Humour allows us to take a step back from ourselves and start conversations,” she says.

She gives the example of the “Buy a little Chinese” campaign.

Eh ?

She smiles. “In the 1940s, 1950s and 1960s, in Canada, we offered to sponsor a little Chinese boy. We sent a photo, the child received a Christian first name, we felt like we were helping him…”

No need to finish the sentence, the image makes it all clear.

When Karen Tam talks about it, her gentle tone, sometimes laughing and embarrassed, softens the sourness of the subjects. She tells stories of dignity and improbable fates like that of journalist and writer Edith Maud Eaton.

When she was 5 years old, Edith’s mother was sold to a magician. “He was using it as a target in the knife throwing act,” says Tam.

In London, a missionary picks her up. She returns to China as a missionary herself. This is where she will meet her future husband, a British silk trader. They immigrated to Montreal and settled in Hochelaga where they raised 14 children, including Edith. This pioneer will write for the Montreal Star using his English surname and will publish fictional stories under his Chinese name.

“I’ve been thinking about doing a Cantonese opera for a long time. It would be called A heroine’s journey through hostile lands Tam says, pointing to a work that bears that title – a superimposed photo of shadow puppets at the entrance to his exhibition.

“I was looking for a main character,” she continues. I was suggested to take Edith Eaton, and I think it’s a good idea. It helps to say a lot of things at the same time…”

⁠1. I borrow the term from this analysis by author Jonathan Cha