291 Restaurant

What do we share? What do we have in common? How is it expressed? Food. Of course.

Food. We eat it, we share it, we talk about it, we cook it, we care about it.

We look at it. We smell it. We taste it. We nibble, drizzle and sizzle it.

It is central to everyday life , love and celebration.

It’s central to how we define ourselves (We are the people who don’t eat pork, shellfish, eggs; fish-on-Fridays; Mcdonalds; who eat macrobiotic, organic, wholemeal; who are vegan, veggie, fruitarian; live on curries, noodles, patties; lobster thermidor, Lancashire hotpot, welsh rarebit…)

Food is critical to whether we live or die. Physically, tribally, emotionally.

As food defines us, its metaphorical qualities become apparent. The Macdonald’s logo will be recognised by some people as a symbol of world deforestation and low pay, for others it’s a kiddies clown holding a warm bun.

The hidden menace in food has become a common concern – it is acknowledged. The question isn’t, is it dangerous, but what is the danger? Is it dangerous to me the consumer or to the harvester, the provider? What is the point-of-delivery of the danger? This cheap and yummy prawn will raise my cholesterol. It has been farmed in the old paddy fields, and the excess prawn shit has been washed down the terraces to poison the remaining paddy fields, killing the local rice harvest.

For everything we eat, there is a dark side. That which keeps us alive is killing us or someone else on the planet.

Eating disorders? Yeah, me too.

Food - In the morning, I buy food, carefully – in the street market, in the supermarket, in the shop. Friends grow it and give it to me. I buy fresh, I buy processed.

Then I paint it, really quickly, and then I eat it. Then I give the painting a name because I want to illustrate the metaphor. And because food is so dangerous, I want it to be a little funny. The titles pun a bit, mess around and play with their food. I do them in French because Im trying to learn the language. It’s a holiday language, one you speak when you’re having a break from real life. I’m on a holiday from long difficult laborious painting.

I might never go back again.