Feasting on Art

The colour blue – reserved for the robes of the holiest of mothers – was one of the rarest and most expensive pigments in use during the Renaissance. For the depiction of Virgin Mary, only ultramarine was used due to its price and elusiveness as it is was found only in Asia and is presently mined in only a handful of places around the world. The name ultramarine was derived from the Italian oltramarion meaning ‘from beyond the sea’ because it was imported from Asia. Made from ground lapis lazuli, the pigment yielded a brilliant hue verging on the violet side rather than the greenish tint commonly found in the substitute colour, azurite.

Pablo Picasso, Still-Life with Cheese, 1944
oil on canvas, Private collection

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Green is one of the most abundant colors; there are greens in every imaginable shade and tone throughout the world’s natural landscapes. From green algae to rainforest canopies, green permeates and dominates in its diversity. Individual greens are often blurred as countless plants merge into a color field, many overlapping green leaves forming the density of forests or millions of blades blending to become a sports field’s smooth surface. The simultaneous layering and highlighting that is seen in nature can be compared to the artwork of Jonathan Monk, who’s layering of meaning and medium fuse together history, critique, and technique. Monk’s 2002 work, Green with hidden Noise combines a single solid swath of green painted roughly on a white wall with a slide projection focused directly atop this patch of color. The circular projection itself appears to depict a green scene: a forest of trees? The composition is green on green.

Jonathan Monk, Green with hidden Noise, 2002,
slide installation and wall painting, image courtesy Meyer Riegger, Karlsruhe and Berlin

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Chili, garlic, lime and coriander; these four flavours crop up in my recipes more often than not. When combined, they yield a dish that is flavoursome and bright, and can be applied to almost anything. This recipe for roasted pumpkin first appeared on my Christmas table a couple of years ago, and it produced so much enthusiasm that it has become a standard side-dish for many dinner parties. The recipe is obscenely easy and as a side dish, the flavours work year round and can accompany a range of mains from beef to pork and shellfish.

Only 9 more days to submit an entry to the Feasting on Art Recipe Contest. Show some love for Feasting on Art and enter if you haven’t done so already! Also, the concept for Feasting on Art is in the running for a recipe redesign contest at GOOD so please hop on over and click ‘Megan Fizell’ to vote.

François Bonvin, Still life with a Pumpkin, Peaches and a Silver Goblet on a Table Top, 1858
oil on canvas, 38 x 46cm, Private collection

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On the surface, the small bar in Newtown, Sydney, filled with antlers and aptly named Moose appears to have little in common with Cafe Felix, an Ann Arbor mainstay known for French-style tapas. The commonality the restaurants share appears in the form of a carefully roasted mushroom, upended to form a small cup and filled with a medley of cheeses. As a college student, I would stretch my food budget in order to indulge in the stuffed mushrooms bathed in a sage-cream sauce at Cafe Felix. The small dish had such an impact on my memory, I tried to recreate it to serve at the first dinner party I held in my first flat. As is always the case, I managed to serve my reconstructed masterpiece to a guest that despises mushrooms. I tucked the recipe away until recently, when an impromptu visit to Moose in Newtown revived my interest. Apart from tasting delicious, this cheese post also serves as a timely reminder that there are only 19 more days until the close of the 2nd annual recipe contest.

Pavlos Dionyssopoulos, Still Life with Mushrooms, 1997
wood, paper and plexiglass, 46.2 x 40 x 40 cm, Private collection

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I read the essay Borderland by M.F.K. Fisher on a sunny afternoon during a fleeting hour of leisure. The title gave no hint to the topic of the essay, yet within the first few sentences, the words began to resonate. Speaking of the simple pleasures of food, the methodological preparation of the tangerines reveals that what we choose to eat is uniquely personal. The essay remained knocking around the back of my mind and was instantly recalled, due to what will become obvious reasons, upon spotting Still Life with Wrapped Tangerines by William Joseph McCloskey. M.F.K. Fisher’s writing is so evocative, the quiet moment and uncomplicated enjoyment of a preferred treat cannot be more eloquently related than through an abridged version of her Borderland essay.

“In the morning, in the soft sultry chamber, sit in the window peeling tangerines, three or four. Peel them gently; do not bruise them…separate each plump little pregnant crescent…Take yesterday’s paper (when we were in Strasbourg L’Ami du Peuple was the best, because when it got hot the ink stayed on it) and spread it on the radiator…After you have put the pieces of tangerine on the paper on the hot radiator, it is best to forget about them…On the radiator the sections of tangerines have grown even plumper, hot and full. You carry them to the window, pull it open, and leave them for a few minutes on the packed snow on the sill. They are ready…I cannot tell you why they are so magical. Perhaps it is that little shell, thin as one layer of enamel on a Chinese bowl, that crackles so tinily, so ultimately under your teeth. Or the rush of cold pulp just after it. Or the perfume. I cannot tell.”

M.F.K. Fisher, Borderland

William Joseph McCloskey, Still Life with Wrapped Tangerines, 1889
oil on canvas, 25.4 x 35.56 cm, Private collection

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