A Conversation Between "In That Case" Collaborators Artist Helena Keeffe and Chef and Food Activist Jessica Prentice
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| Jessica winnowing nigella seeds for A Salad of Wild Weeds and Seeds Photo by Helena Keeffe |
Helena Keeffe (HK): Jessica, when I first approached you about working together
I was nervous that the art context wouldn't interest you, but I knew you had
worked with artists as a chef at Headlands Center for the Arts, so I figured
there was a chance. Museums make artwork and other cultural artifacts available
to the public in a way that is quite different than publishing a book or making
food available through social entrepreneurship. What were your thoughts when I
first presented this opportunity? Be honest!
Jessica Prentice (JP): The art context was exciting, not off-putting. My main
concern was whether I would have the time to devote to this collaboration. But
I actually really love the opportunity to work in different contexts. Each one
is a different lens that is interesting to look through. The questions brought
up by my work are (I think) universal ones. I've chosen writing and social
entrepreneurship for practical reasons (writing because I like to write, and
social entrepreneurship because I need to make a living!), but feel constrained
by them sometimes too. In writing you're confined to the written word, and as
an entrepreneur you can only really do things that make money (ie. are
profitable). Art always feels like something that is a bit separate from the
regular economy, where there might be more freedom and creative license.
HK: The economy of art definitely has a unique position
within capitalism, and many artists struggle to find the time to be fully
engaged in an art practice due to the pressures of the cost of living, but it
is great to be reminded by someone with a fresh perspective that there are
great privileges within art, and the relative lack of constraints is a big one.
I was struck, when reading The Ohlone Way, by the description of how art/craft objects functioned for people living in pre-European Bay Area tribes. Basket weaving seems to have been the most highly developed artisan skill and it was used to make both practical things like seed winnowing baskets, but also elaborately decorated baskets given as gifts and traded by families in marriages. From what I understand, however, there were not particular people who were the basket weavers. It was a skill that every woman learned, though some were known to be exceptional weavers and their work was prized. We have touched on the subject of grief in our project and this is something I grieve—the loss of a place in our culture for carefully handmade things that have value beyond luxury.
I was struck, when reading The Ohlone Way, by the description of how art/craft objects functioned for people living in pre-European Bay Area tribes. Basket weaving seems to have been the most highly developed artisan skill and it was used to make both practical things like seed winnowing baskets, but also elaborately decorated baskets given as gifts and traded by families in marriages. From what I understand, however, there were not particular people who were the basket weavers. It was a skill that every woman learned, though some were known to be exceptional weavers and their work was prized. We have touched on the subject of grief in our project and this is something I grieve—the loss of a place in our culture for carefully handmade things that have value beyond luxury.
JP: Yes, one of the things we talked about a lot was what is
a "luxury" versus what is a "necessity." I think our
corporate capitalist culture's skewed values are reflected in this. For
example, we tend to think of a cell phone as a necessity. It is something that
you "have to have." Of course, if you really take a step back and
think about it, it's a luxury. But on an everyday level we treat it as a
necessity. Organic food, on the other hand, we often think of as a luxury. But
I would argue that food that is free of poisons and that doesn't destroy the
ecological basis for life is actually something we all need. It is a necessity.
But if you suggest that someone who says they "can't afford organic
food" but who "can afford a cell phone" might consider shifting
the amount they pay on a cell phone towards purchasing organic food, you're
called an elitist. I wonder, though. I think about a beautiful handmade basket
and think it might be a luxury; but beauty, sustainability, and function are
(in my view) necessities. If a basket accomplishes all these things
simultaneously, is it still a luxury?? And isn't it interesting that when an
Ohlone person died, his or her baskets were burned with him or her on the
funeral pyre. But we put these baskets in a museum and keep them temperature
controlled. . .
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| Helena crying while cutting onions for Grief Soup Photo by Helena Keeffe |
HK: As you know I'm writing this from my temporary home for
the month in Mexico City and it is very striking to see how commerce and food
co-mingle here. Some of the most popular places to eat are street food stands,
including tacos sold out of the trunk of someone's car or from a basket
strapped to the front of a bicycle. It's a massive city with millions of people
constantly on the move yet things seem to function on a more human scale than
the big US cities I'm familiar with. Human voices call out to announce that the
gas truck is coming down the street to deliver propane, human hands ring bells
to let you know the trash truck is coming down the street, women enter
restaurants selling flowers and pastries, as many as they can carry in an
armload. Taking all of this in, I have been thinking a lot about what we gain
and what we give up in the name of convenience and efficiency.
On another note, I've been thinking about the Passover Seder
as April 3rd approaches. I think I mentioned to you that my interest in working
with food, the table, and the meal as forms for conveying stories stems in
large part from my fondness for this Jewish holiday. I have vivid childhood
memories of the story of the Jews being liberated from slavery, illustrated
through taste, smell, texture, and visual symbolism. The way that we went back
and forth with the recipes you wrote, the objects I made for the table and our
collaborative planning of A Menu for Recognizing Invisible Forces was, for me, an ideal realization of my desire to work with the meal as a
collaborative social space. We started by sharing our interests and values,
exchanged ideas and texts, and then started to tell a story that had resonance
for us in the hopes that others would connect to it as well. This kind of art
is hard to preserve in a museum and what's on display is in a way a second part
of the project made for a secondary audience, an audience beyond those who
attended the dinner event. My hope is that museum visitors will imagine
themselves creating something like this for themselves, or at least finding
ways to bring meaning to the ritual of the meal in some small way.
In That Case: Havruta in Contemporary Art is based on the
Talmudic principle of havruta—the study of religious texts by people in pairs.
The root word haver—“friend” in Hebrew—emphasizes the communal nature of
learning, and the havruta learning model reflects the Jewish affinity for
asking questions and grappling with complex topics, together. Each local artist
invited to participate is given the opportunity of working with an established
writer, scientist, thinker, or academic in a field of their choosing.
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