I just finished this. Pardon the typos as always! Hopefully people will e-mail my mistakes to me! Ha.
Cooking and Photography
It’s February. Not an entirely exciting month, but a month that marks a period where we don’t really get that stoked about food. This, all things considered, is a good thing. Let’s face it, we go from Thanksgiving to Christmas to New Years doing little but stuffing our faces and gossiping. Well, perhaps that’s an overstatement, but I think we can all agree that the holidays involve a lot of time in the kitchen. From a foodie perspective February leaves us with the last gasp which is Super Bowl parties. These are not typically on people’s short list of culinary paradise.
With the bitter cold, lack of holiday festivities, and a slow time in most studios February is a great time for reflection and a time for change. It’s a time for renewal and business resolutions. It’s during this time that I have had a chance to reflect of food.
Ah yes, like most I overindulged over the holidays and put on a few pounds. In the process of reinventing my waste-line I have spent a good amount of time thinking about how we cook, how we photograph, and where the two disciplines meet. It may sound like a leap of faith to find so much in common with cooking and photography, but let’s take a look into the kitchen.
Growing up in the suburbs of Chicago, it was really amazing to be around during the holidays. The holidays were a special time in which we could travel the world through food without driving more than 2 miles. It was not uncommon to be stuffed with Polish pastries, homemade pastas, and things we couldn’t begin to pronounce all in one day. It is truly interesting to see that as I get older these delicacies are still being served but by a new generation. Many years back it was the Grandparents and Parents doing the cooking. Now our generation has been left with the burden of being the Grandparents and Parents.
What is truly inspiring about the holidays is the lack of cookbooks, recipes, or any written directions. It’s not that there isn’t a stash of notecards boxes up somewhere, it’s just that they haven’t been used for a long time. It’s as if cooking were a right of passage or somehow wired in the DNA of families. There is no secret to all of this. At risk of removing the romance from the analogy (not that referring to such a sacred tradition as an analogy doesn’t do that already) is it quite simply an act of repetition. Spending countless hours watching someone slave over a hot stove makes quite an impression. One can only watch and gorge for so long without the scents and ingredients seeping deeply into the recesses of their brain.
You get the picture I’m certain. After all this IS an article about photography. Let’s examine things a bit. If we want to learn to cook we hang out in the kitchen for a few years. We eat, we clean the dishes, and we do it over and over again. We tell stories and we let the art of creating something beautiful imprint into our being. When it comes time to run our own kitchen, we invite others in to learn how its done. How strange is it then that photographers want to learn the tradition of photography without spending the same time in a studio studying the work of a disciplined photographer? Is it all that different? Let me tell you a little bit about my Gramma.
My Gramma never cooked with recipes. Great chefs don’t use cookbooks. Why? They just cook. Can anyone imagine the reaction they would get if a patron walked into the kitchen of 4 star restaurant and asked the chef how much salt was in his dish? I don’t think my Gramma ever measured much of anything. “How much?” “Just enough!” This is comical and perhaps basic at best, yet how many photographers are in search of a recipe for composition, lighting, or even business.
My Gramma never once thought about opening here own restaurant. Let’s face it, the woman could cook. She loved it, she breathed it, she understood it, she lived it. The fact of the matter is though, she wasn’t a restauranteur. There is a different between someone who loves to cook and an executive chef. Imagine a world in which every avid cook wanted to become a professional chef. Now realize perhaps that this world is not entirely different than the world of photography these days. It seems that many people have decided that the love of creation with a camera is a logical precursor to a lucrative career in photography. (On a side note, the shelf life of the average independent restaurant is somewhere around 6 months to a year)
My Gramma didn’t learn to cook in a month. It took years and several generations before she got to where she was in the kitchen. This is obvious, yet many of today’s photographers expect overnight success without learning fundamentals. It’s true technology has made the process easier, but my Gramma also didn’t cook with a microwave. Think about that one for a minute.
My Gramma could cook a lot of dishes. It’s true, we had our favorites and she had her high points, but my Gramma could make a lot of food. She knew the basics. She could cook just about anything in a pinch. It’s amazing to see how many photographers skimp out on learning the basics. It is appalling how many photographers these days can’t take a simple headshot, compose a basic shot out of camera, or know how to use a window.
My Gramma loved to share. She loved to cook for EVERYONE. She loved her culture and wanted to pass it along. She wasn’t altogether worried about the Food Network calling her and giving her a spot on prime time she just talked and shared and let others put their hands in the mixing bowl.
Gramma didn’t spend a lot of time going into debt over her knives.
To put things into perspective. A great chef becomes great not in spite of the fact they he/she has thrown away the cookbook but more accurately because he/she has done so. There is an expression that chefs use:
“Shut up and cook” - I mean shoot. . .