Boil in a bag chicken
I’ll begrudgingly admit that I’m not a great cook. Some say (namely my parents) that I’m not an accomplished cook because my diet is too restrictive.
For all my sins I’m a vegetarian – a vegan for several years – and the latter was during my student years, so as you can imagine, mastering the art of fine dining was pretty low on my list of priorities.
That’s not to say I was eating unhealthily – far from it. But my relationship with food is almost synonymous with my feelings towards excretion – I like to get it over and done with as soon as possible. And I do it because I have to do it.
For some, this hasty attitude also extends towards buying, growing, and in some cases, the rearing of food too. People want to buy their food efficiently, yield their crops swiftly and feed their animals to obesity all the way to the abattoir (sorry, I felt a slight twinge of militarism there).
And I suppose, this is where my concerns lie. Although I’ve never been one to be complacent about where my food comes from – even if readiness is usually an overriding factor – I feel uncomfortable about the pace of cattle farming. A living breathing being is reared to a supermarket’s edible standard, slaughtered and then adorned in plastic or which ever material allows the consumer to quickly slap it on their plate.
I don’t know which one influenced the other, but my reasons for continuing to shun meat is largely due to the latent, speedy consumerism imparted onto life.
Anyway, I don’t need to show you pictures of factory farming or bleeding animals. We all know it exists. I’m not a spokesperson for PETA for goodness sake.
In the triptych below, you’ll see an experiment with latex in re-purposed packaging bags which were hung from the tops of the walls in an installation at Middlesex University.
I tried to evoke the latent brutality that the flesh of mass produced meat carries with it, which is only enhanced by the clinical packaging. It’s called boil in a bag chicken:
|Boil in a bag chicken|
They arrived. Finally. After a string of stern emails to a bemused Lomography.co.uk customer service assistant, my pictures found their way through my letterbox
I picked up my Canon 110ED 20 with great self-satisfaction for a mere £2 from a charity shop in Bedford: