The human species is special in several ways, one of which is our ability to turn a survival necessity into a luxury with a plethora of choices. Eating is an act we’re wired to like in order to survive, but that’s barely an issue anymore, considering all the different types of food and different ways of eating that we have. Eating is an experience. We began by eating to live, but now it has reversed to living to eat.
Granted, we have an unnecessary number of options for something that requires simply caloric content. We need oxygen, but we can only choose between breathing through our noses or our mouths, and we don’t make a big deal out of that (apart from oxygen bars in Colorado—a must-try!).
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Food, however, is a different story from oxygen. We’ve learned too many techniques and combinations to be eating the same thing every day. So if a necessity is made more interesting by having these many options, why can’t we be more appreciative of these options?
Visual representations of such options turn this necessityinto a more interesting commodity. All these options for eating give us a new perspective on the way we live. Are we living life to the fullest, taking advantage of all of the options that we have with regards to ingestion? If we have to do something anyway, why not enjoy it?
The goal of documenting my food adventures is to turn something mundane into something worthwhile and to give it purpose.
We spend our most precious resources on food; time and money. Most of us tend to buy longer-lasting material goods, like clothing, that give us a more conspicuous sense of satisfaction. We can show it off, and we don’t feel like our money has disappeared into thin air. Similarly, it has become a burden for us to take the time to cook and sit down to eat with people. Sometimes we feel like it’s a waste of valuable time to find food, prepare it and chew it. Having a visual record is like having a souvenir to take with us after every meal; it symbolically elongates the life of something that seems to have vanished too quickly and ameliorates the feeling of loss.
It is an experience. In the same way, we take photographs to record our touristy vacations or our holiday celebrations. I take photographs to record memories in general—to remember the places I've gone, the people I've gone with and met, and the little side adventures that make each day a productive one filled with accomplishments and every type of emotion.
I believe that memories don’t necessarily have to consist only of the turning points or the grand destinations far away from “regular life.” Memories consist of a conglomerate of these plus the most mundane activities of quotidian life. What makes these memories special is the food associated with them, bringing all of our senses back to the moment.
We taste the over-salted Pizza Hut slice with its rubbery artificial cheese in a room filled with a buttery aroma and the beats of trap music.
We feel the satisfaction from that perfectly flipped pancake rising in the pan on a chilly February morning before a blizzard approaches.
We hear strangers laughing and cheering for Chronixx and the Zincfence Redemption while we bite into a saucy Philly Cheesesteak from Carl’s Steaks, surrounded by the blunt aroma of tetrahydrocannabinol.
We inhale the puzzling, rancid, yet savory pungency of buttery broiled shellfish and liquor as we sit with seasoned fingers, our pants too tight and our mouths talking faster than our minds can control.
Every bite is a new wave to surf in the ocean; a higher ledge to grasp on the mountain; a different pair of shoes to walk in.
I definitely don’t aspire to be a food photographer. Certainly I’d love spending my time around food and portraying it in its most drool-worthy state. However, I lack the skills, and I prefer to present food in all its realistic glory—because that’s the beauty of capturing mealtime: it’s real, it’s universal and it’s a necessity surrounded by positivity through excitement, novelty and variety.
They tell me to stop taking pictures because they’re hungry and/or it’s nothing special to document. I’m telling you that investing a couple of seconds is worth the timeless memory and that it’s more in-the-moment than, say, taking your phone out to text someone or scroll through Instagram.
Maybe (okay, mostly) my pictures don’t turn out looking as exquisite as the food actually tastes. That’s fine with me, though, because it’s the personal attachment to the subject that I value rather than the subject itself. And honestly, sometimes the most aesthetically pleasing food tastes like sh*t anyway, but you wouldn’t know if you were merely looking at it. Just like with people.
