This conversation is part of the Unplated series, a collection of interviews with folks whose work intersects with food, but who work outside strictly culinary spheres. My hope is that these conversations not only spark your curiosity, but help you think about how what you eat is connected to the world well beyond your plate.
Carolyn Tillie is a writer, visual artist, and curator, and food is often the subject of her explorations. Here, we discuss how her work as a culinary historian has influenced her work as an artist, and vice versa, and the challenges of conducting research when so many of the voices we want to hear are missing.
JS: What, to you, is most important when thinking about how to represent food visually?
CT: I’m not sure it is important at all. Images of food are immediately recognizable and I am often interested in using the shapes of various foods to create design elements that could easily exist with paint or wood or gemstones, but that they are made up of foodstuffs causes the viewer to look again.
JS: How do your aesthetic choices connect to the themes you explore in your work?
CT: I am drawn to repetitive images. There is something meditative is repeating motifs and when I am setting about with food for jewelry or words for sculptures, I find myself reconfiguring the design element in a way that exists over-and-over. Perhaps it was artists like Wayne Thiebaud and his repeated food images that inspired me. In my youth, it was M.C. Escher and Yayoi Kusama and their use of repeated motifs.
JS: You've shown your work in galleries as well as on your social media: How do people tend to respond to your food-based work?
CT: At first glance, there has always been a tremendously positive response to it in general, but for many it is a bit too whimsical to be considered serious jewelry, which I think is a shame. At one point, I was making pieces in 14k gold and those who acquired those pieces are still held dear in my heart. Sadly, with the onset of sites like Etsy, handfuls of knock-off artists started created food-themed jewelry with lesser quality materials. Pizza earrings on silver-toned ear wires can be had from third world countries for a fraction of what it costs me to create them in sterling.
JS: Are you ever surprised by the ways in which they connect to it?
CT: I am not, actually. Everyone has a relationship with food and for some people, there are foods about which they are passionate. Last year, I made several thousand pieces of bean jewelry as a wholesale order for Rancho Gordo. The company has a bean club and these are close to being a cult with their bean obsession. I used what I considered to be the prettiest beans in making earrings, necklaces, and bracelets, but my selection didn’t include pinto beans (which I thought were rather dull in color and design). Several customers have written me privately to inquire about commissioning jewelry with just pinto beans.
JS: Your book A Feast for the Eyes is an abecedary of edible art, which I absolutely love. How did writing about edible art inform your practice as an artist?
CT: In many ways, it was a passion project. In 2015, when I ended a bad relationship, I wanted to go back to school and get a doctorate in art history with the idea of investigating and writing a thesis on foodstuffs. At the time, the only printed documentation on the subject was either very lighthearted, whimsical books (1997’s Play With Your Food by Joost Elffers), a few cookbooks (Modern Art Desserts by Caitlin Freeman), or academic books on the depiction of food in fine art (too numerous to mention). When I learned that an art history doctorate requires two foreign languages — one of which HAD to be German! — I knew it would never come to fruition so I started pitching the book.
JS: And how did you decide what art pieces to choose for each letter of the alphabet?
CT: Some of it was quite a struggle. Given the restriction of needing to find some form of edible art for each letter presented challenges; especially for “U”, “X” and “Z” for which there are few foods. For the “udon” creation, I actually commissioned the artist to create the character in question. In some cases, I had too many examples for a particular letter but I also wanted to discuss the various techniques involved in the art’s creation. “S” for sugar is a good example where I was able to delve into the different techniques used to create sugar art. I was also hamstrung by my publisher’s lack of a budget for images.
The acquisition of pictures had to either come from WikiCommons or I had to pay an artist outright for the use of the image. There are so many great pieces of art I would love to have shown, but could not afford to pay for the rights. I was lucky in some cases, where the artist gave me a tremendous discount for the use of the image (George Platt Lynes’ nephew, for example, gave me a killer deal on the Salvador Dali image). I was beyond lucky that the cover art — the recreation of Arcimboldo in real food by Klaus Enrique — was GIVEN to me because we have a close mutual friend. Klaus could have charged me quite a lot for the honor of reproducing his amazing work.
JS: You are a culinary historian as well as an artist: How does your work as an artist inform and strengthen your work as a historian?
CT: My most recent artistic endeavors have been in remembrance of those we have lost due to the pandemic. The gist of the artwork has involved the meditative act of cutting apart and re-attaching the words from vintage cookbooks; notably The White House Cookbook from 1909.
JS: And how do both inform your perspective on what and how you eat?
CT: That is a fascinating question. For many years before the internet was rife with blogs, social media, and YouTube videos, I prided myself on experimenting with historical and international cuisines. It was an adventure to try and research when that research was considerably harder to come by. In the early 1990s, I used to host celebratory feasts that would imagine a meeting between King Richard the Lionhearted and Saladin, the military leader who led the Muslim armies during the Third Crusade. This involved not only researching Medieval English cuisine, but 12th century Middle Eastern food. At the time it was gratifying trying to experiment and realize on my own what this food could taste like, while now it seems that others have already done all that work for me.
I still enjoy delving into the past for interesting foods and now that I have been married for almost a decade, I have certainly re-geared my adventurous culinary efforts towards one that feels steeped in mid-century housewifedom. Having a partner who supports my creative endeavors in turn helps me want to thank him for that generosity, so on a daily basis, I make him a gourmet version of an Egg McMuffin (I add chopped spinach, various spices, and use prosciutto instead of Canadian bacon) as he drives off to see patients. Dinner is always a well-rounded attempt at healthy eating with mostly a small portion of protein (fish or chicken and occasionally lamb) with vegetables. At least once a week I delve into older cookbooks to experiment with some dish that is historical; be it from the Victorian era, 1930s, or some novel international theme.
JS: Finally, I want to ask you about your next book on aphrodisiacs. How does this build on your previous artistic and historical practices?
CT: I am co-writing the book with Ken Albala who is tackling the early history of the subject. And while the book on aphrodisiacs is supposed to be geared towards the culinary, the art historian fell into the hole of looking at a genre of art known as Orientalism which romanticized the Eastern world during the 19th century. I thrive on finding the gastronomic connects in art beyond the simple depiction of a food in a painting, but seeking out those deeper - and sometimes elusive - references that are not readily apparent. In this case, these Orientalist paintings of harems and literature like the The Perfumed Garden, Kama Sutra and Arabian Nights all of which was first translated into English by Sir Richard Francis Burton in the 1800s gave rise to an aesthetic and ideal that was new in Victorian Europe.
JS: What have you found most exciting and surprising during your research?
CT: In some ways this should not have been surprising, but is actually a tad distressing: The bulk of the historical literature on the subject has obviously been written by and for men. Many treatises on aphrodisiacs exist to enhance the male performance or lower the inhibitions of the woman. In so many ways, I have been mired in literature that is appalling in its treatment and views of women and, consequently, has not made writing this book very enjoyable. It has been gratifying to find some Middle Eastern literature that takes into account a woman’s needs, but it has been quite difficult to take so much obviously misogynistic. I am hoping to show a more balanced view of aphrodisiacs in general for all sexes, but it will take some effort to break from the misandry that has developed during my research.
JS: Anything else you'd like to tell me?
CT: Yes! I have another project in the works that I am terribly excited about: An in-depth biography of Henri Soulé who was famous for opening the most influential French restaurant in America from 1941 to 1966. The thrill occurred when I inadvertently purchased a silver cocktail shaker that turned out to belong to Soulé and was given to him by someone named “Armand.” Because those in Soulé’s inner circle (like Salvador Dalí, Edward and Wallis Simpson, and more) were known to give him gifts in exchange for better tables in the restaurant, I believe the cocktail shaker was a gift from Armand Hammer, known for money laundering, Soviet espionage, and a fabulous art collection.
You can learn more about Carolyn’s work on her website or follow her on Instagram.