Smithsonian.com

Slice of Cream Pie with Cherry (or ‘Piece of Boston Cream Pie’), 1964; Woodcut, Artist’s Proof; image: 8-3/8 x 8-3/4 in. (21.3 x 22.2 cm); sheet: 13-5/8 x 11 in. (34.6 x 27.9 cm); Norton Simon Museum, Gift of Mr. Paul Beckman, P.1967.08.1; © Wayne Thiebaud/Licensed by VAGA, New York, NY

The Norton Simon Museum in Pasadena has a small exhibition of works on paper by an artist I like, Wayne Thiebaud, which I visited during my trip to Southern California. (The show ends today.)

I first encountered Thiebaud’s work as an art student in San Francisco in the late 1980s. He is best known for his oil paintings of cakes, pies and other sweets, which share a sugary pastel palette and luscious brush strokes that resemble frosting. On a purely visual level, they are appealing for the same reasons their subject matter is: they look delicious.

But, as the black-and-white prints in the show reveal, there’s more to Thiebaud’s work than eye candy. Look at the woodcut print to the right, ”Slice of Cream Pie with Cherry (or ‘Piece of Boston Cream Pie’),” from 1964. With a few spare shapes, he conveys an instantly recognizable image. And it still looks delicious, because your mind fills in the information it already knows: the silky texture of the cream, the contrasting flavor of the cherry on top. As the exhibition curators wrote, “We cannot separate it from the general notion of the cream pie; looking at the pie, we know exactly what it would taste like, even though we have not sampled the unique slice that sits before us.”

Similarly to the other Pop artists of his time (such as Andy Warhol with his soup cans), with whom he’s often grouped, Thiebaud was exploring iconic cultural (and particularly American) images, as well as “the tension between uniformity and individuality.” The idea of the production line is echoed in his use of printmaking, in which many copies of the same image can be reproduced. Many of his pieces, both paintings and prints, show rows of pastries—sometimes a variety of cakes, sometimes near-identical slices side by side. As the artist said of his work, in 1968, “Why must pie always be cut so precisely? Why not just scoop out a helping with a spoon? … And you can see a pie in Pasadena, or Madison Avenue, in New York, or Madison, Wisconsin, and it’s the same damn pie.”

Thiebaud was born in 1920 and grew up mostly in Southern California. As a young man he worked in a cafe, whose rows of pie slices in the display case he has cited as an influence on his choice of subject matter. In his early career he worked as a cartoonist and designer, and served as an artist in the United States Army during World War II. Although he had his first solo exhibition in Sacramento in 1951, he gained national critical attention with a 1962 show at the Alan Stone Gallery in New York City. In 2001, the Whitney Museum of American Art held a retrospective of Thiebaud’s work, prompting Michael Kimmelman to write in the New York Times, “If the world were a perfect place, the Wayne Thiebaud retrospective that has just opened at the Whitney Museum would be nailed to the walls for good and we would be free to stop by whenever we needed to remind ourselves what happiness feels like.”

I may not like the taste of Red Bull, but I’ve got to give them props for clever marketing. The first (and only) time I’ve ever tasted their energy drink was in a very unexpected place—on my favorite hiking trail the mountains of northern Vermont, a few years ago. I’ve been there hundreds of times in my life, and it’s usually fairly deserted, so imagine my surprise when a guy decked out in Red Bull gear suddenly appeared in front of me.

“Need some energy?” he asked. Before I could answer (actually, I was stunned speechless), he pulled a can out of the soft-sided cooler slung around his neck, thrust it into my hand with a perky smile, and hiked on down the trail.

Since caffeine can be dehydrating, it’s pretty much the last thing I want to drink while exercising. I finally cracked open the can when I got back to my car a few hours later…and after a few sips, decided it was pretty much the last thing I wanted to drink under any circumstances. (To be fair, it probably tastes better cold, and I don’t like soda anyway, so I was a tough sell.) I prefer my caffeine in the form of a good cappuccino.

Last night, I got another taste of the company’s marketing genius when I stopped by the opening reception for Red Bull’s “Art of Can” exhibition at DC’s Union Station. They’d managed to transform the train station’s main hall into a nightclub-like environment, complete with multiple bars, colored spotlights, a DJ and a gaggle of young women in miniskirts and logoed shirts (whose main purpose appeared to be asking guests, “Are you having fun?”).

The art exhibit consisted of 56 pieces by artists in the United States and a dozen other countries, in media that ranged from sculpture to paint to glassblowing. The only requirement of the contest was for artists to “utilize the blue-and-silver can literally or simply as inspiration,” according to the catalog. Most of the pieces involved actual cans, cut and shaped into other forms: A knight, a parrot; a rescue dog; a skull; a shark; a hula dancer; a ball cap; and of course, several bulls. Weirdly, two artists both decided to shape the cans into cigarette boxes (at least one of them understood the irony, titling the piece: “One Addiction Deserves Another”).

I felt sad for the 25-year-old student who used the cans to build a cute little faux-robot with a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a “love meter” on his chest. The plaque by the work stated that she “was inspired by the idea of having a boyfriend who genuinely cares about her.”

And I couldn’t help but chuckle at the passive-aggressive tone in the statement accompanying another piece, which featured stuffed bulls with wings, dangling from some sort of musical mobile. This was apparently the artist’s response to a critic’s negative review of his entry in an previous “Art of Can” exhibition. The artist “may not have a lot of formal training,” the statement explained, “but at least he can appreciate a work of art that someone took the time to make.”

I left feeling impressed with the artists’ hard work and creativity, and secretly proud of myself for avoiding the actual product the event was intended to sell. And then I opened the “press kit,” which was packaged in a cardboard tube… darn it, I should have known!

The “Art of Can” exhibit will be on display at Union Station, free and open to the public, through October 19.

Ever peel one of those pesky stickers off a piece of supermarket produce, and end up with a gooey or skinless spot marring an otherwise lovely nectarine or tomato? Ever been stuck waiting in the checkout line while the cashier ponders whether to ring up organic or regular bananas, since the stickers have fallen off the bunch you picked? I know I have.

Grapefruit labeled with a laser, courtesy ARS News Service

So I like the idea of “food tattoos,” which I learned about today in a press release from the USDA’s Agricultural Research Service. The concept is pretty simple—a carbon dioxide laser beam etches the words or numbers straight onto the fruit’s skin, cauterizing it in a way that creates a permanent marking or “tattoo” (ironically, perhaps, the same type of laser can be used to remove human tattoos). The technique was developed by researchers in Florida and seems to work well on grapefruit; it’s still being tested on tomatoes, avocados and other fruits.

Aesthetics aside, laser labeling could be a boon for food safety, since tracking down the source of pathogens (last summer’s salmonella outbreak in jalapenos, for example) can be notoriously tricky in our complex global food supply.

What do you think of this idea? Would you rather buy produce labeled with lasers or stickers?

Beet tattoo, courtesy Flickr user rallycat!

Or did you think this post would be about something else—tattoos of food, on people—which is what our science blogger Sarah tells me she guessed at first glance?

In that case, here’s some eye candy for you. There’s even a whole Flickr group devoted to photos of food tattoos (warning: there’s a lot of skin showing in several of the pics). My favorite is the guy who covered up his shark tattoo by turning it into an image of an eggplant; although I also like this simpler image of a cake. Very, um, tasteful!

Which brings up another question—is there any food you love enough to get it tattooed on your body?

Spicy Chicken Sushi, converted Fancy Popeye's Fried Chicken. Credit: Erik R. Trinidad

Reasonable people may differ on the tastiness of Chicken McNuggets or the latest nacho-cheese-and-bacon-laden burrito novelty at Taco Bell, but there is one attribute of fast food I think we can all agree on: it’s fast. Well, and it’s cheap. But it’s not healthy, and it certainly isn’t pretty.

That is, it’s not pretty until the wizard behind a blog called Fancy Fast Food gets a hold of it. Erik R. Trinidad, the site’s creator, shows that by taking fast out of the equation you can turn an ordinary Happy Meal into a “culinary masterpiece.”

I’ve written previously about the time and effort food stylists put into prettying up menu items to be photographed for ads, but the dishes on Fancy Fast Food are complete transformations. Trinidad, though not a professional stylist, traces the roots of his interest in food presentation to his childhood. “My brother and I used to play what we called ‘Iron Chef Buffet’ at those Chinese buffets, trying to outdo each other with the fanciest presentation of a dish,” he says.

His creations include the BK Quiche, constructed from disassembled Burger King breakfast sandwiches. Spicy Chicken Sushi is made from Popeye’s fried chicken. Tacobellini is a tortellini-resembling dish made from Taco Bell burritos and tacos. My favorite entry, Tapas de Castillo Blanco, is a platter of finger foods made from White Castle Slyders and fried clams. All of the dishes include recipes and helpful photos, should you wish to replicate these impressive-looking (if not tasting) meals. The visual transformations don’t really improve the food’s flavor, Trinidad says. “It’s all processed food anyway, and I just add another process.”

Popeye's fast food, before it was transformed into art. Credit: Erik R. Trinidad

The site started as a goof on the “foodie” movement, he says. “I think the pretentiousness that comes with calling oneself a ‘foodie’ has gone overboard these days, and FancyFastFood.com aims to poke fun at these self-important gourmands as if to say, ‘Hey, you can have fancy food too, just by going to McDonald’s or Taco Bell!’ Granted, it’s still bad for you.”

Aspiring fast food gourmets can also submit their own creations to the site. The rules are that you can only use food purchased at a fast food restaurant, without other ingredients (except as a simple garnish), and you have to send before and after photos.

The latest submission, a Wendy’s Napoleon made from a Baconator Combo, was whipped up by Adrian Fiorino, and includes an impressive spun sugar garnish and a sauce made from Coke and ketchup. Judging from the link to his own blog, Insanewiches, Fiorino is a guy who enjoys playing with cold cuts. Take note of the Rubix Cubewich, a truly horrifying concoction of cubed meats, cheeses and pork fat.

If you’re still hungry for food play, top off the visual feast at Threadcakes, a fun cake decorating contest where cakes are based on designs from the T-shirt company Threadless.

There’s a stylish home goods store in downtown DC called Apartment Zero, the kind of place where I like to window-shop and dream of purposefully chosen domestic decor. (My current stuff is quite eclectic, but not in the stylish sense—more like an unfortunate yard sale.)

This week I noticed something in their window that intrigued me even more than usual. It looks like a poster for an art exhibit, titled: “Foodjects: Design & Cuisine in the New Spain.”

Silicon mesh which can be used to boil and strain foods

Inside the store, a long table appears prepared for a banquet, laden with various vessels and gadgets related to eating and drinking. Each piece has a unique and whimsical element in its design, something that compels you to exclaim “cool!” much more often than is generally considered, well, cool.

There are dishes with sensuous curves and asymmetric flourishes, forks with tattoos, and teacups with handles shaped like a horse’s leg. There’s a spoon with a tip cut like a calligraphy pen, to “write” in chocolate and other sauces, and a colorful silicone envelope made for steaming fish. Many items, like the spoon with a clothespin-like handle (used to hold aromatic herbs, so your sense of taste can be enhanced by your sense of smell as you eat), were designed by legendary chef Ferran Adria for his Faces collection, and are used in his El Bulli restaurant on the Catalan coast of Spain.

A hybrid wine glass/pitcher

I was especially taken with the “coporron,” a wine glass with a teapot-like spout protruding from one side, designed by Martin Ruiz de Azúa (the exhibit’s curator) and Gerard Moline. The woman working in the store explained that it’s meant to be a hybrid of an individual glass (copa) and a communal Catalan wine pitcher called a porrón. You can sip normally, or you can pour a stream of wine directly into your mouth from above.

And “Foodjects” itself is a sort of hybrid. It’s a touring exhibit of work by Spanish designers (sponsored by the Embassy of Spain), but many of the items are also for sale. It’s only at Apartment Zero for a few more days, through June 7th, and will then move on to other cities including Miami, Los Angeles and New York.

I also fell in love with the “landscape” dishware by Patricia Urquiola, which turns simple white china into something exciting by combining different textured patterns with just a hint of roughness on the edges.