A while ago Jillian Hess posted a few excerpts from chefs notebooks and I started toying with the idea that cooks and chefs, perhaps in anyone in the culinary arts, understand art, creativity, and artistry better than most creatives.
Love these! I love how your inspiration seems to vary with each post. Cooking was certainly not what I was expecting for this one, but I'm so glad you used it.
Your description of cooking at the start reminds me a little of the movie Hunger on Netflix (if I'm remembering the movie right). The movie might be a little bit more about the status that comes with certain foods, but it definitely toys with ideas of craftsmanship/perfection and the symbolism/art of food. I can't remember how good it was, but it's stuck with me, so maybe it's worth a watch.
Thanks Daniel! I always enjoy your feedback! I'm not familiar with Hunger. It's rare that I watch shows or movies, so I'm usually always out of touch and out of sync. This sounds interesting though, I may have to take a look and see if it's still available. Thanks for the recommendation!
To be fair, I don't know if it was very popular even amongst people who do watch a lot of movies, I just happened to stumble upon it one day. But yeh, let me know if you end up checking it out! Hopefully it holds up to what's in my memory
So good! I never thought of chefs this way but you’re right, they are artists. The impermanence intimidates me — I always think, well, then what’s it for anyway?! — but I know this is something I need to crack. Also, you’re making me want to read Kitchen Confidential again! Last read it in the 90s!
I'd be willing to say that chef's are something higher than artists. They are craftspeople. Their artistry isn't what sits on the plate, but everything it took to get it there. The discipline, the repetition, the skill. The uncosncious choreography. The economy of motion. The religion of mise en place and the mediative monotony. The impermemanence is what makes it so poignant and so powerful and so liberating. The point isn't the dish but the process of making it. That you can do it over and over again. That there's always another waiting to be made behind it. It reminds me of the Sand Mandalas in Tibetan Buddhism. Monks will labor for weeks creating incredibly intricate mandalas made only of grains of sand. And once it's finished they sweep it all up and return it to the river. The thing crafted is always second to the crafting.
"Relish your apartness." I take that to heart. As writers and artists we need that time apart from others to explore and reflect and play, to engage with other artwork and the things that inspire us, whether is a walk in the hills, listening to a concert, or strolling through a museum.
Definitely! I know I need it, more than I need most things. I was reminded of that this week. I was on a work trip. There was no time for relishing apartness. For all the things I do daily that keep me stable and insync. No running, no meditating, no making. By Saturday morning when I was back home, I felt like I was crumbling. A few quiet hours spent collaging and everything felt right again.
Such a fascinating comparision between artists and chefs. I've often thought of cooking as a form of painting--especially when using lots of colorful of spices.
Love that example! One could say that the culinary arts practice a kind of sensorial painting. Perhaps even more so, given the role that olfactory organs play in our cognition surrounding how and what we remember, we could say that chef's are sculpting with time and memory.
I can't recommend Anthony Bourdain's work enough. He himself draws a distinction between artists and cooks by saying a cooks work suffers when they start to think of themselves as an artist instead of a craftsperson. I can't help bur wonder if this too is true of artists. If this is also a distinction we need. The realisation that we artists makers before we are anything. That we are first and foremost craftspeople. The 'art' is in the disciplined practice of a craft. In the 'how' of the making not in the 'what' of the made. That it is not in our job description to create a masterpiece, but to show up and serve up dish after dish with consistency, precision, and skill.
I owned a coffee shop in Austin for seven years. Seems like everyone that worked with me was either a musician or in the arts. It was wonderful and I miss it.
Love these! I love how your inspiration seems to vary with each post. Cooking was certainly not what I was expecting for this one, but I'm so glad you used it.
Your description of cooking at the start reminds me a little of the movie Hunger on Netflix (if I'm remembering the movie right). The movie might be a little bit more about the status that comes with certain foods, but it definitely toys with ideas of craftsmanship/perfection and the symbolism/art of food. I can't remember how good it was, but it's stuck with me, so maybe it's worth a watch.
Thanks Daniel! I always enjoy your feedback! I'm not familiar with Hunger. It's rare that I watch shows or movies, so I'm usually always out of touch and out of sync. This sounds interesting though, I may have to take a look and see if it's still available. Thanks for the recommendation!
To be fair, I don't know if it was very popular even amongst people who do watch a lot of movies, I just happened to stumble upon it one day. But yeh, let me know if you end up checking it out! Hopefully it holds up to what's in my memory
will do!
So good! I never thought of chefs this way but you’re right, they are artists. The impermanence intimidates me — I always think, well, then what’s it for anyway?! — but I know this is something I need to crack. Also, you’re making me want to read Kitchen Confidential again! Last read it in the 90s!
I'd be willing to say that chef's are something higher than artists. They are craftspeople. Their artistry isn't what sits on the plate, but everything it took to get it there. The discipline, the repetition, the skill. The uncosncious choreography. The economy of motion. The religion of mise en place and the mediative monotony. The impermemanence is what makes it so poignant and so powerful and so liberating. The point isn't the dish but the process of making it. That you can do it over and over again. That there's always another waiting to be made behind it. It reminds me of the Sand Mandalas in Tibetan Buddhism. Monks will labor for weeks creating incredibly intricate mandalas made only of grains of sand. And once it's finished they sweep it all up and return it to the river. The thing crafted is always second to the crafting.
"Relish your apartness." I take that to heart. As writers and artists we need that time apart from others to explore and reflect and play, to engage with other artwork and the things that inspire us, whether is a walk in the hills, listening to a concert, or strolling through a museum.
Definitely! I know I need it, more than I need most things. I was reminded of that this week. I was on a work trip. There was no time for relishing apartness. For all the things I do daily that keep me stable and insync. No running, no meditating, no making. By Saturday morning when I was back home, I felt like I was crumbling. A few quiet hours spent collaging and everything felt right again.
Such a fascinating comparision between artists and chefs. I've often thought of cooking as a form of painting--especially when using lots of colorful of spices.
Love that example! One could say that the culinary arts practice a kind of sensorial painting. Perhaps even more so, given the role that olfactory organs play in our cognition surrounding how and what we remember, we could say that chef's are sculpting with time and memory.
These are fantastic- I’d never put much thought into food or food making. Clearly there is far more going on than I ever considered.
I can't recommend Anthony Bourdain's work enough. He himself draws a distinction between artists and cooks by saying a cooks work suffers when they start to think of themselves as an artist instead of a craftsperson. I can't help bur wonder if this too is true of artists. If this is also a distinction we need. The realisation that we artists makers before we are anything. That we are first and foremost craftspeople. The 'art' is in the disciplined practice of a craft. In the 'how' of the making not in the 'what' of the made. That it is not in our job description to create a masterpiece, but to show up and serve up dish after dish with consistency, precision, and skill.
I owned a coffee shop in Austin for seven years. Seems like everyone that worked with me was either a musician or in the arts. It was wonderful and I miss it.
"something that began as subtle is manifested in the dense." - love that! That brings a whole other level to the comparison! Thanks so much!