Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Mondrian for Dessert?

When two different things come together and complement each other, art happens. Lennon and McCartney, Jobs and Ives, Fred and Ginger. With the Modern Art Cookbook, food and art come together in a wonderful, mysterious way that is, literally, a feast for the eyes.

From Cezanne to Warhol and everyone before, between, and since, the art world has a long-standing relationship with food. Whether subject or muse, food has been threaded through art history. The relationship might seem a bit one-sided, with art more often pouring its adoration into food, but the Modern Art Cookbook allows you to create food influenced by great works of the last two centuries.

Imagine partnering the works of artists like Mary Cassat and Gustav Klimt with the recipes of Salvador Dali and Frida Kahlo. What a fusion across time and place!

A similarly themed cookbook – but with a sweet tooth, Modern Art Desserts, uses images of food in art housed within the walls of SFMOMA to inspire culinary masterpieces. So you get Piet Mondrian cake and Henri Matisse’s Allan Stein parfait.

So the next time you plan a meal, get a bit inventive. Have a creative start to the day and make your own Rothko with toast at breakfast.


Anonymous said...

The Auckland Art Gallery Cafe does amazing art themed morsels to accompany the perfect espresso, a delight to behold and devour, a must next time you are in Auckland Kevin.

Media Messiah said...

It's funny, I was thinking about art and food over supper (which was a simple Uncle Ben's Sweet 'n' Sour Chicken with rice). I have a real problem with chefs and foodies trying to elevate their food to "art" status. The whole point about art is no one asked the artist to create it. It exists merely for the sake of existing. Say what you like about Damien Hirst, but can you think of any reasonable, practical use for a formaldehyde shark? Whereas there is a real and very vital need for food, a fact made all the more stark by the fact so many people are starving. I find it distasteful in both senses of the word, that chefs such as Bloomin Hestonthal (as I like to call him) insist on doing all sorts of perverted things with food. By all means buy a Rothko and eat toast while gazing at it. But what's the point of making a recreation of red on maroon on toast?