The Root Food Project

This is the transcript of my keynote address delivered at the Artist as Changemaker Residency & Fellowship Final Showcase, held on May 3, 2024, in Calgary, Alberta. The event was sponsored by Calgary Arts Development and Trico Changemaker Studio.

I've been deeply moved by the work of the Alex Community Food Centre (CFC). Walking into their space, you immediately feel the warmth and community. It's a place where people come together to grow, cook, and share food, and importantly, to fight for good food for all. They provide access to healthy meals and an affordable market, which is so crucial. What's even more inspiring is seeing people learn cooking and gardening skills, and watching kids get excited about trying new things in the kitchen and garden. It's not just about food; it's about empowerment. People find their voices, build connections, and discover a real sense of belonging. The CFC shows how food can build so much more than just meals – it builds health, hope, skills, and a strong community.

I want to extend a heartfelt shout-out to Daryl Howard and Katherin Yee, who approved my proposal to collaborate with them two years ago. My sincere thanks also go to Bernadette Lumungdanceg and Ashley Irving for their invaluable legwork in procuring ingredients and promoting this project at the Alex. I also want to acknowledge and celebrate Jhumar Devnath, Deon Nelson, Leanne Cripps, Joanne Tschudy, Miry Bol, and Ajoy Seghal, who work tirelessly at the Alex Community Food Centre, providing food, garden, and cooking skills programming in a decolonial and community-centered manner. Additionally, I'd like to recognize the peer advocates at the Alex, Ladyne Kala, Lorraine Macarenhas, Krista Jensen, and Vanessa Adamche-Edwards, who work diligently to connect community members with essential resources.

It's with a heavy heart that I acknowledge the Alex Community Food Centre is currently grieving the loss of a beloved community volunteer, Keely. Keely greeted guests with a radiant smile at the Wednesday and Friday open lunches and breakfasts. I vividly recall walking into the Alex and being welcomed by Keely, who offered hand sanitizer and a warm greeting. I had the privilege of getting to know their beautiful spirit during some of the activations I led during my residency. I learned of their passing today. My thoughts are with Keely, as well as with everyone at the Alex, both those present tonight and those unable to attend. This serves as a poignant reminder that we never truly know the challenges our community members face, but a simple welcome and invitation can make a profound difference. I dedicate this presentation tonight to all the volunteers and staff who make the Alex Community Food Centre a place to thrive, and especially to the memory of Keely.

Tonight, I'll be discussing THE ROOT FOOD PROJECT, which began two years ago. While it culminates today, it feels more like a transition into an ongoing endeavor.

Since 2004, I've developed a diverse portfolio encompassing interdisciplinary performances, temporary public art, participatory works, teaching, and interventions.

My artistic vision is deeply collaborative, process-oriented, and politically/socially engaged, drawing inspiration from the post-studio movement, theatre/dance, performance art, participatory practice, dematerialization, and activism. I explore themes ranging from public and private landscapes, the theatre of everyday life, uncertainty, urbanism, masculinity, queer history, and place-based knowledge.

My creative process intertwines movement, performance, participatory practice, education, and performative inquiry, resulting in site-specific and socially engaged works. At the core of my artistic mission lies the exploration of power dynamics, access, participation, and authority. Through a fusion of performative actions, discussions, and innovative teaching, my ephemeral, short, and long-term projects aim to empower the public to shape their own futures while navigating the complexities of contemporary experience and interpersonal dynamics.

I have several upcoming projects:

• New Works Calgary presents "THE NATURE OF US" with Artio Choir, on June 8th at 7 PM on St. Patrick's Island. This project invites the audience to experience a choir collaborating with the natural environment.

• In September, in Vancouver, I will present "BEAUTIFUL THING: THE SLOW DANCE PROJECT" with Simon Fraser University. This project invites men to slow dance with me on public street corners, inquiring into masculine intimacy within urban spaces.

After a discussion with Katherin and Daryl at the Alex, this complex question emerged:

HOW MIGHT WE SHINE LIGHT ON & ACTIVATE AROUND ISSUES OF FOOD SECURITY?

Immediately, I envisioned a food systems map encompassing everything from Indigenous stewards of the earth, farmers, laborers, truckers, grocery store operators, city planners, park rangers, parents, and children, to people experiencing poverty and those who can afford fine dining, compost bins, community gardens, kitchens, soil, the soil's bugs and microbiome, our gut microbiome, the earth, water, and sunlight.

It was an expansive map. How could I possibly create an activation around this proposed question?

I realized I needed to consult experts, people with deep relationships with food. And so, my journey began almost two years ago.

Some of the individuals I spoke with included:

Cease Wyss, an Indigenous Matriarch of Skwxwu7mesh, Sto:lo (Coast Salish area), and Hawaiian ancestry, is an ethnobotanist, artist, activist, and community-based educator. They are dedicated to sharing Indigenous customs and teachings.

We spoke at length about decolonizing the food system, specifically replacing invasive species with foods indigenous to the land. We also discussed their aging mother, the shift to Cease caring for her, and the increasing cost of food, which makes it challenging to provide for them both.

Jeremy Zoller specializes in edible landscapes, gardens, and food forests.

He is a co-farmer at Highfield Farm, a collective of Calgary food and environment stewards who are dedicated to a decentralized, hyper-local model for waste management, soil creation, food production, and community collaboration. The farm is a project of the Compost Council of Canada and the City of Calgary.

Through land revitalization, regenerative food practices, and community building, Highfield Farm is transforming an underutilized brownfield site into an active urban community farm hub.

I visited their farm to understand how such a decentralized, hyper-local model could function. I participated in a honeybee hive tour, helped make compost, and enjoyed a meal prepared entirely from produce grown by various farmers on the site. That very evening, a hailstorm ripped through Calgary, destroying everyone’s plots. This experience highlighted the fragility of such systems.

I spoke with Rick and Ashley, whom I met while walking downtown. They agreed to talk with me in exchange for a meal and a $100 grocery gift certificate. They shared the difficulties they faced in accessing nutritious food. Reaching the food bank was challenging, and once there, they had limited choices. They also expressed feeling a lack of dignity during the process. They explained that the constant struggle for food and shelter kept them in a perpetual state of survival.

We shared a meal, and I spent the next hour and a half talking with them about other things, such as Rick’s visual art and Ashley’s ability to freestyle rap.

And yet, I still found myself grappling with this complex question.

So, I arrived at the Alex Community Food Centre to undertake a two-week intensive residency with the community there.

I pitched a stone soup of options

Stone Soup is a European folk story in which hungry travelers persuade villagers to contribute small amounts of their food to create a shared meal. In various traditions, the stone is replaced with other common inedible objects, leading to alternative titles such as axe soup, button soup, nail soup, bolt soup, and wood soup.

The story unfolds as follows: Travelers arrive in a village, carrying only an empty cooking pot. Finding the villagers unwilling to share their food, the travelers fill the pot with water from a stream, add a large stone, and place it over a fire. A curious villager asks what they are doing. The travelers explain they are making "stone soup," a delicious dish they would gladly share, but it lacks a crucial garnish.

Intrigued and anticipating a share of the soup, the villager contributes carrots. As other villagers pass by and inquire about the pot, the travelers repeat their story, emphasizing the soup's potential. More and more villagers add ingredients, including potatoes, onions, cabbages, peas, celery, tomatoes, sweetcorn, meat (such as chicken, pork, and beef), milk, butter, salt, and pepper. Eventually, the stone, being inedible, is removed, and a delicious, nourishing soup is enjoyed by both travelers and villagers. Although the travelers have cleverly encouraged the villagers to share their food, they have also transformed it into a communal meal that benefits everyone.

MOVEMENT ECOLOGY – Explore the complexity of food systems through this movement-based expressive arts workshop, designed to cultivate resources that nourish and move the body.

ALL BODIES YOGA – Give your body time to regenerate with this inclusive and supportive gentle yoga class. Perfect for seniors, those with limited mobility, or anyone new to yoga.

THE ROOT FOOD PROJECT – (which I will elaborate on shortly) Explore our collective stories surrounding cultural, familial, and favorite root foods while engaging in the creation of a dish associated with the artist's own root food story.

I met Ajoy Seghal, the head chef at the Alex, who had worked extensively around the world. He shared his experience catering to over 900 guests daily in Dubai.

I spent a significant amount of time observing his interactions with the community, particularly how he engaged kitchen volunteers in the daily food preparation. On my last day, he approached me with words that deeply resonated. He expressed how profound it was to witness an artist engage with the community in ways that fostered a sense of welcome and sparked creativity. He said, “Kevin, you are so important to society! Artists give life meaning. They help us understand things. It was an honor to have you in our community. You are always welcome back!”

I met volunteers and assisted in making a strawberry, mint, and lime dressing.

And I plated the salads for the afternoon lunch.

Every Wednesday and Friday, the Alex hosts a community meal for everyone. Anyone can walk in and enjoy a meal, but they should also expect to engage with the community while doing so.

I cut fries. SO MANY FRIES! 

I lead a movement workshop to explore food security .

And yet, I remained perplexed about how to address this question.

I tried to ground myself in the origins of food. The earth, as I've always said, is the greatest artwork ever created. To create is magic, and the ultimate artist in this equation of creation is the earth itself. It creates, it nourishes, it teaches, and it feeds us."

YOU CAN'T HAVE EARTH WITHOUT ART.

And so, I rooted myself. I reflected on my connection with the earth. I considered the fact that I walk on sidewalks in a concrete city and buy my groceries from Safeway, which receives weekly produce shipments from truck drivers coming from California and beyond, from farmers and laborers who spend their days planting and harvesting so they, too, can feed their families.

I thought about my grandparents, tilling the land in northeastern Portugal in the mid-1900s, and the cycles of food waste that went from plates to compost to soil, and then back to growing food.

I thought about my mother, immigrating from Portugal 55 years ago with her family, so that her brothers could avoid being conscripted into the Angolan war, fought by the fascist government of Portugal and its dictator, Dr. António de Oliveira Salazar. I thought about how much land-based and food knowledge was lost in that immigration and across three generations—my grandparents, my parents, and me.

In elementary school, I often went to my godparents' house after school. My godmother would serve me whatever she had prepared for lunch that day. She frequently served what I called 'grass soup.' I detested this dish—a bowl of what looked like soggy grass in hot water. I reluctantly ate the soup because there was a house rule: I couldn't leave the table until I finished my food. This dish became inextricably linked to my association with my godparents' house. I often tried to persuade my parents not to send me there after school, primarily out of fear of being served 'grass soup.'

As I grew older, I came to appreciate the taste of this soup. I began calling it by its traditional name, 'caldo verde,' which literally translates to 'green soup.' I also came to understand the historical significance of this soup during the fascist era in Portugal under the dictator Dr. António de Oliveira Salazar. With poverty being the norm for most people at that time, and with their strong agricultural history and knowledge, this simple dish became known as a traditional soup of Portugal.

Looking back at my time at my godmother's house and my reluctance and disdain for 'grass soup,' I now, as an adult, appreciate the cultural connection I was taught by being served that soup. 'Caldo Verde' is more than just a soup; eating it reminds me of my family, my culture, and the oppression occurring in Portugal at that time. I imagine my grandfather pulling potatoes from the earth, my grandmother slicing kale into fine shreds with a perfectly sharpened knife, my uncles tearing day-old bread and adding the pieces to the soup to soak it up, and the smell of chouriço in the kitchen. This single dish connects me to my ancestors, to the land, and nourishes me beyond simply filling my stomach.

Caldo Vered was my root food.. 

What is your root food? This could be a favorite vegetable, a cultural dish, or a family tradition.

I shared the process of cooking this Portuguese dish, inviting people to tell me stories of their root foods as we worked.

Tonight, I've invited two participants from the Alex Food Centre to share their Root Foods with you. Ladyne and Francis have graciously prepared their dishes.

What is your root food?

What are the ingredients?

Who taught you this recipe?

When is this food typically served?

Ladyne, you mentioned there's a song associated with this dish.

Francis, you noted that Peru is known for its variety of potatoes and their medicinal purposes.

I imagined all our root foods being served on a huge table where everyone could sit. I envisioned beneath that table our roots intertwining into a thick, supportive, rhizomatic network, where all people and species of plants and animals could thrive, even if one element in that network needed extra support. I thought of Ricky and Ashley, Jeremy Zoller, Cease Wyss. I thought of the grocer, the truck driver, the farmer, the laborer. I thought of my parents, my grandparents, my aunts and uncles. I thought about my neighbors, your neighbors, the strangers I see walking on the streets in Forest Lawn, Marlborough, downtown Calgary, and Shaughnessy. I looked into everyone's eyes at the table and imagined their parents and grandparents. And I couldn't help but think about my question: how might we shine light on and activate around issues of food security? And my answer is, I don't know. No single solution will solve the problem of food insecurity. There are countless, endless possibilities. But what I do know is that the earth and people's connection to the earth, and to each other, are at the heart of it all. That the lessons I've learned from Cease Wyss, along with Cree/Métis artist and storyteller Chantell Chagnon, Elders Leroy Little Bear and Elder Randy Bottle, and the countless Indigenous artists and knowledge keepers from this area in Treaty 7, who have reminded me that above all else... “all my relations.” The North American conquest was a project in amnesia, designed to make us forget in the pursuit of productivity, growth, and capitalism. To forget what was here before settler-colonialism, what the earth felt like, and where our food came from. It made us forget how food brought us together, that food was cyclical, that food passes through us and returns, not as waste, but as compost back to the earth, in a cycle that connects, restores, and is itself rhizomatic, linking us to smaller organisms such as insects and the microbiome.

There is a series of words painted above the kitchen at the Alex Community Food Centre: “Good food is just the beginning...” and I feel that this sums up what I'm trying to say here. Food connects us to the land, to our individual histories, to generations of family members, to stories and recipes. It puts our hands in the soil, helps us generate compost for future soil, and allows us to learn about different cultures and lived experiences through conversation. And together, each person contributes something to the stone soup. And together, our roots grow deeper.

Thank you.

Now, let's enjoy Ladyne and Francis' root food!