Picasso was not everyones’ cup of tea. Strange geometrically arranged naked ladies with cubist breasts. Angular misshapen faces in crazy colours and peculiarly patterned people galore. Eventually he reached an apogee of commercial super celebrity; and then the world was wearing his images emblazoned on T-shirts and on their coffee mugs. There was a vibrancy about this randy Spaniard and it permeated his work. Colour would spurt out of him like seminal fluid. Images would dance before the viewer like macabre circus puppets. Huge eyes gazed out from the canvas. Sexual trysts were displayed with their insides on the outside. Picasso bent our expectations and warped away our straight-laced illusions.
Art in the Kitchen: Plating Up Picassos
The art world has permeated into our kitchens in the twenty first century. Chefs are squiggling splodges of edible colour onto large white plates. They are arranging ingredients into complex geometric shapes. Sex on a plate is often an apt description. Like a recently deflowered virgin’s bedsheet, there are crimson streaks galore. Bloody meats are Guernica like in their bovine meets human appetite appearance on the plate. Art in the kitchen: Plating up Picasso has become de rigueur in some of our finest kitchens.
Even at home, where mums and dads have become inspired by reality TV meets celebrity chefs to renovate their old kitchens into gastronomic temples. The kitchen cabinet maker has morphed into temple priest for Hathor or Anubis, designing out of this world kitchens, where deities come down from heaven. Sacrifices are back in vogue with flame on flesh and meat separated from the bone. Jupiter Optimus Maximus gratefully receives his cut and yet the smoke is harmlessly diverted by state of the art exhaust fans. Everyone wants a super duper stainless steel kitchen, just like the pros have.
Dinners have become artistic celebrations in a world made up of wealthy western middle class residents. Art in the kitchen: Plating up Picassos is no longer the exclusive domain of the chef and his minions. Now, we all can squeeze raspberry coulis around desserts dusted with icing sugar, creating crazy patterns in ode to the Spanish master. We have the designer kitchens in which to do it, and the inspiration from the culinary and visual art worlds to motivate us. Our modus operandi is Mr Squiggle with a sauce bottle; and there are no little Wees, but plenty of Bills and Bens to remind us.