salt of the earth
2020
bread, bread, bread!
Bread is a universal symbol of gathering and sharing, a basic feature of many global cuisines.
To throw bread away is a sin against the generations who grew up in times of poverty and food shortage. Bread can be a bargaining card in political conflicts; a tangible source of survival for some, whilst elsewhere its abundance generates such waste that competitions to devour 100 pieces of bread in 5 minutes become a feasible source of entertainment.
Salt of the Earth is a research-based, artistic investigation with bread as the protagonist; it explores the theme through the process of storytelling and memory sharing.
In the middle of the 2020 pandemic, I have asked a number of people to simply share one story about bread. These independent narratives have been woven together to form seven stories, a gesture that looks to perform diversity as togetherness. Each interlaced story has been visualised using just one loaf of stale bread and one batch of fresh dough as the material. The resulting representations are seven photographic works on paper, presented as if notes from an archive. The breaded sculptures appear as archeological discoveries with the story extracts acting as clues to their identification.
KISS
'rather a long lost sensation
it is almost
like a taste in itself
it envelopes my mouth softly
i miss it like home
it was said that if it dropped on the floor you had to pick it up and kiss it. i never did this but i find it
beautiful.
i take a bite. the soft, generous, thick and doughy inside fills me with warmth.'
THE BITE
'on the way home, still unsatiated, she would tear six inchs or so from the top and eat it with gusto.
and even though it happened every week, my mum would always be pissed off, and my sister affronted.
so for me, that missing part is my friday afternoon after school, the women in my family screaming at each other, the sound of the slamming door and the certainty of what would reoccur exactly a week later.'
HUMILITY
'mum would always mark a cross at the centre.
i took this tradition from her, even though it has no religious meaning for me
i'm always touched by the idea
that it is where god remains
something very ordinary
but easy to destroy'
LEMON YUM-YUM
'while we went around the supermarket she would order pastries. the three of us would eat them on our way up and down the isles, before hiding th barcodes in our pockets.
this form of middle-class theft is, i fear, a white privilege of the highest order.
the lemon-yum-yum
already residing in her stomach'
<3
'love for me is cutting the end. we would share it equally among us
we still do.
the tool that presses them together and slices it in half'
BIG DEAL
'the carbohyddrates head
straight to the capillary bed
so when i am dead
the blood will shed
racing like a sled
widespread
narrow thread
light tread
no substitute. i once tried to reduce my consumption. for other things, it's easier.'
EIGHT SQUARES
'my grandpa always cut it into those little cubes
when i was a girl, i always wanted them too
you know those sandwiches that i always had eight of?
specifically, because the last three pieces were slightly smaller,
they were mine
just mine.'
