I remember the day I first saw the startlingly avant-garde mockups for what would inevitably become the Seaport Market. I was disheartened. I think I was just too enthralled with the romantic, stone-stacked meticulousness of the old brewery—the archaic, tiny hallways and cavernous echo of voices. I’ve since warmed up to the Seaport Market and jetisoned my nostalgic disillusions, but I still have this feeling of nagging discontent when I roam that stark, steel monolith.
Although there are a multitude of eco-conscious implementations—the green roof and the windmills come to mind—it just seems like the soul and the heart of a farmers’ market has been tossed out for a quick sense of convenience and the sleek shine of modernity.
While they promised to eradicate the claustrophobic clutter that plagued the brewery market, they’ve really only spread it out. Making aisles smaller and forcing traffic around and around in a perpetually awkward, winding path where I find myself unable to stop to talk to people for fear of elbows and eggregious stares is hardly something to consider an improvement.
But while I could wax poetic for days about the ways in which an aggressively modern building pales in comparison to visceral brick and mortar, what it really comes down to is that the Seaport Market seems to be forgoing all of the integral attitudes and intentions of a farmers’ market.
Now, while I’m more than content to stumble in on a Saturday, hungover and hankering for a giant sausage broiled in beer, it always dawns on me that I’m surrounded by a slick gloss of established local companies and a severe lack of local farmers and quaint vendors.
While Steve-O-Reno’s and Bramoso may be great local merchants who caffeinate me and bewilder me with breakfast pizza, you’ve got to stop and consider what the hell they’re doing at a farmer’s market. There’s the odd vendor who’s there, albeit infrequently, peddling their homemade delicacies or homegrown produce, but by and large, the Seaport Market is dominated by already established companies who it seems are just vying for another franchise location.
Isn’t the point of a farmers’ market to allow small farms and their farmers a place to sell their produce?
While we could lament our tragic losses and whine about an oversaturation of Nova Scotian wineries, why not consider our options? The fact is, the old Brewery market is still there, just waiting for our lovely contributions and support. While it’s been laying somewhat more dormant than it was three years ago, there are still hardworking and dedicated vendors who are sticking it out and selling their delicious delicacies and homespun handtowels. With cheap table prices, a charming aesthetic and a thirst for new talent, what’s stopping intrepid entrepreneurs from setting up shop in its hallowed halls?
The wait for busking at the Seaport Market, coupled with their haphazardly managed “trial period,” is almost begrudgingly bureaucratic. They’re slowly turning a time-honoured musical tradition into a gigantic chore, a process that consistently churns out only the generic and geriactric. So why not chisel your musical chops in a venue that not only sounds incredibly rich and vibrant, but doesn’t make you jump through hoops? The fact of the matter is, there’s a wealth of opportunity at the Brewery market, not just for buskers but start-up vendors as well.
The problem is that people have either forgotten about it, believed it closed down or are new to Halifax and don’t even know about it.
“It’s a great chance for people to just do their thing,” says Dalhousie student Tara Paczkowski, an avid apron maker and food enthusiast. “With the Seaport Market, there’s such a demand that it’s usually just people who are lucky enough to have days off through the week or people who have seniority and can get a Saturday table. But that’s only if you’re not doing something that’s already being done there. With the Brewery market, you don’t have to work your way up, you can just be a student with a niche talent. It’s open for everyone, and it’s less stressful and stringent. I just think more people need to realize that.”
So while the Seaport Market may be getting gold stars in staying green and contributing to a growing economy, those who are pining for a more legitimate, less stressful market-going experience should know that there is an alternative. It’s there, and it’s ours to shape and support.
So the next time you trudge through the sardine can-like confines of the Seaport market, consider popping over to the Brewery, if not only for the sake of contrast and curiosity. Who knows, maybe you’ll fall in love. Or at least you won’t have a panic attack.
Recent Comments