Archival photograph collections are often the most popular component of any public archive. Old images, of special events and everyday life alike, provide an apparent window into the past: of people strange and familiar; of places long gone or much transformed, or rarer yet, still standing; and of an alien aesthetic, in dress, in behaviour, and even in the texture of the photograph itself. Indeed, it can be easy to forget that, all photographic evidence evidence to the contrary notwithstanding, most of history was in colour.
Often lost within the wealth of material, though, is the institutional context in which these photographs were taken. Most of the digitized images available from the City of Toronto Archives' photography collection, for example, were originally commissioned by departments within the municipal government: they existed because images of slum housing, or dairy pasteurization, or the Royal Visit, were thought useful to the particular needs of the initiating department. Similarly, if a subject was not of interest to a City Department, it was unlikely to be photographed, and thus does not appear in the modern archive. The City of Toronto's Photography and Blueprinting Section, however, was another casualty of the Great Depression, and, accordingly, the photographic collection of the CTA becomes more diffuse for those years following the World War II, as private daily newspapers, occasionally supplemented by contract workers hired for special events, assumed almost complete control over Toronto's publicly-displayed photographic image. The issue continues to this day: insomuch as there is an "official" visual record of the city, it is the product of those institutions - most often, private media corporations - which have the resources to create and disseminate their own pictures of Toronto; secondary visual records are produced by security cameras, which impugn by assuming that anything photographed might be in service to a crime.
It is the author's contention that Oakwood-Vaughan has no visual record of itself - a situation made all the more tragic by the rapid transformations ongoing (and very much visible) in many parts of the neighbourhood. Conversely, those who live and work, or who have previously lived and worked, in and around Oakwood-Vaughan almost certainly do possess some record of their own lives, along with those of their friends, neighbours, and associates. Historically, these records have been passed down through generations, but as the media by which images are preserved and exhibited are rendered obsolete by technological development and fashion alike, or are without physical referents in the first place, a visual (and often alternative) record of the immediate past, present, and, indeed, future, is at risk of disappearing forever.
A member of OV NAP is willing to digitize any personal or institutional photograph and/or moving image (e.g. videotape, 8mm) collections possessed by anyone in Oakwood-Vaughan, along with those who frequent the area, or who otherwise possess items related to Oakwood and Vaughan. Items which have already been digitized, or which originated in digital formats, are welcome too. The images need not be of Oakwood Vaughan specifically, for it is as important to show where everyone came from as it is where they currently are. Pictures would only be made publicly available if permission is given. That same member is also interested in producing images, along with audio and visual (and audio-visual) "testimonies," of those in-and-around Oakwood-Vaughan The ultimate purpose of this project is to construct a variety of visual histories of Oakwood and Vaughan, the meanings of which would be as diverse as the people behind them. If you are interested in contributing images, or would like more information, please contact archive.ovnap@gmail.com.