Visions in cruciferous art

Where hunger + art = beauty+ form.

Lin is on a diet. Lin is starving. Lin is obsessing about sexy nekkid veggies again. Yeah, I know….you’re all frantically clicking the X button and vowing to come back in a few days time, but bear with me for a moment. (It gets hungrier, I promise.)

Whilst drooling over tonight’s dinner, it occurred to me that veggie porn is in fact an instrument for learning more about photography as well as about new and interesting ways to stuff your gob. Natural unprocessed food is a thing of beauty. Yeah I know you might experience your deepest artistic creative vision whilst gazing on the carbonated rectangle that comprises your instant ready-meal lasagne, but I’m talking about something much more profound that that. I’m talking about how gazing at your pert, firm, ripe, luscious veggies really teaches you to see.

Photography is often regarded as an instrument for teaching things, a way of discovering something new. A good photograph shows you something you hadn’t considered before, it reveals a new truth that you didn’t previously know.

Nature photographs illustrate my point perfectly. Consider a totally groovy photograph like the following piece by Weston (who else?) Doesn’t it just blow your mind? This might be lost on many of you, but personally this gives me a high nearly as good as the warm and fuzzy glowing feeling I get after boozing on one of bt’s mojito recipes.



At first I mistook it for an elegantly draped piece of cloth. I mean – wow! That looks like a fashion shot which could easily grace the pages of Vogue. Initially when you look at it, you don’t realise what the subject really is because the photograph is deliberately ambiguous, at least when seen from a distance. When you study it a bit more closely and you realise it’s a cabbage, it is that element of surprise is what makes you go, “Cool!”

This element of trickery, or teaching your viewer to see something new, is what draws us in to the photograph, and makes us linger over its beauty. It’s human nature to try and figure out what something means, and it is precisely this element of surprise which makes this photograph such compulsive viewing. Weston wasn’t like the rest of us, he could really see the hidden form in nature, and it was this ability to capture on camera the very different way he perceived the world, which made him a Master of Photography.

Of course Rich has a smidgen of a way to go before he reaches Weston’s standard, but he hasn’t let that deter him. Veggie art still has a lot to teach the amateur photographer. We all have to start somewhere after all. I mean, who hasn’t gone to their fridge in a moment of photographic desperation and picked out a pepper and tried to photograph it? C’mon…admit it, we’ve all done it. It’s part of the photographic learning process you know. Today a pepper, tomorrow a nude. Everything is a fine art photograph if you know how to look at it properly.

Actually I jealously guard my peppers (tonight’s ratatouille you know) but I’m slightly more footloose and fancy-free with my brassicas, so here’s a much less-talented and predictable example of veggie porn:

other 1278

A Fluffy Cauli

It is of course a cauliflower (steam florets lightly for 20 mins and then mash - dee-lish!) Now is this not one of the most beautiful vegetables you’ve ever seen? Mother nature is both superlative artist and perfect mathematician. Maths, art and food are all expressions of beauty, inexorably intertwined. Just think what Weston would have done with my cauliflower fractals. Makes me slightly fuzzy even thinking about it.

So what is the message in this rambling nonsense?

Well, I say to thee, go forth and photograph yummy veggies or nude women, either will do. They both represent shining examples of the exquisite form and beauty of mother nature’s finest creations. Look at your subject. Squeeze her sweet juicy flesh, feel the way the light caresses her sensual curves. Really look beyond what an ordinary person would see and discover just how sensual this object is. Is she not the most exotic, erotic, aesthetically perfect thing you’ve ever seen? Now try to use your most excellent photographic skills to capture what you’ve just seen on camera, whilst still maintaining that element of surprise. Your objective is to try to show reality from a different perspective, to captivate your viewer and make him really see as you do.

IvoryFlame 821

Ivory Flame

Mmm…all these brassicas are making me starving. Time to cook my beloved object of beauty for dinner (the vegetable I mean, not the nude.) It’s a crying shame but it’s gotta be done. Can’t let art get in the way of stuffing my stomach you know.

Food + art = fully satiated nude.

Yum.

(R7) Food Matters

Q: What Do Models Eat?

A: They don’t :-)



I often get asked this question, not by models of course, but by the general public who see my images and say “Wow, how do you stay so thin and look so good at your age, and after three kids too? What’s your secret?” Well, let’s leave aside the fact that this makes me feel like a geriatric (having children and being over forty does NOT mean you’re about to die of old age) and instead let’s look at the subject of food.

Now this discussion shouldn’t be about size, or weight, which are IMO both irrelevant. It should be about health and nourishment. Unfortunately it’s not as simple as that. O.K. So here we go again:

With all the modern rumpus about size zero models and the media’s obsession with skinny A-list stars like Victoria Beckham, there is an unnatural preoccupation nowadays with exactly what models shove in their gob. You can’t open a newspaper or magazine without reading about the latest top 10 diet tips, lose 20 lbs in two weeks, look like an A-lister, be a size zero for ultimate happiness, lose fifty pounds on the lemonade diet, lose a hundred pounds on the cardboard diet, get thin with the sex diet (this one actually works incidentally, if you do it enough), you name it and it’s been shoved in women’s faces on a daily basis for the last fifteen years or so. The situation is getting worse. Bulimia and anorexia are on the increase. Women in the UK have even taken to having stomach stapling operations, in a desperate effort to look skinny like their fave celeb. Aargh!!!

I could write extensively about this for magazines. I’ve come across practically every diet and nutrition programme on the planet over the years, so it’s a fair bet I could make a very (financially) healthy living writing articles about how to lose weight, telling women how to get thin by feeding their Western weight obsessions. It’s trivial to write about this sort of thing. Any of you could do it. All you need is imagination. It’s easy to make loadsa money from other people’s insecurities and miseries. (I used to be a lawyer. Trust me on this – I know.)

So why don’t I? Well, I don’t have many principles, but I WILL NOT knowingly contribute to someone else’s eating disorder. I’m happy to talk about photography until the cows come home, I will gladly encourage you to model (regardless of your body size or shape) but teaching people how to look like a skinny supermodel? Pah, count me out!

On the other hand, if you want to know how to extend your life by eating the right foods, if you are interested in mood food, preventing cancer or heart disease, feeling better about yourself, being the best woman (and model) you can ever be, regardless of how much you weigh, then I’m happy to discuss. I am passionate and evangelistic about your health. I am a life-extending zealot. By all means talk to me about how you can use food to extend your lifespan (yes, even by eating chocolate cake), but trust me, you won’t improve it one bit by trying to look like a supermodel. Wanting to be like anyone else does not equal happiness. In fact, it will make you miserable. As I have often said before, the only way you are EVER going to be happy is to accept yourself for who you are, and love your body as well as your personality.

Now if you’re still patiently reading this, let’s go back to the original practical question. What do models eat? Well whereas many models do actually eat proper food because they believe in nourishing their bodies, in my experience there are far too many professional models who either yo-yo diet, where their weight fluctuates wildly over time, or often they don’t eat at all. They should but they don’t. Many will nibble at a little gak (garbage and crap) now and again, but many of the ones I have known simply adopt the nil-by-mouth philosophy if a shoot is coming up, and then binge at McDonalds afterwards. (No I’m not exaggerating – this is based on specific examples.) Unfortunately this practice of starve, shoot ‘n’ binge just feeds the problem (pun intended!)

So maybe women should be asking different questions: How do we improve our physical and mental health? How do we cease our female obsession with size? How do we stop hating and being afraid of food? (Especially those of us who are models, because we act as examples for others to follow.) How do we stop this madness of emotional dependency on what we shove in our mouths?

As for what I eat? Well, let me say that I am passionate about my food. I love to cook my body the proper fuel that it needs to sustain it. Mainly I follow Michael Pollan's advice: "Eat food, not too much, mostly plants." And I make a point to teach my kids that too. I’ll be damned if I’m ever going to let my daughter grow up with an eating disorder because she’s obsessed with looking like Kate Moss.

She’s worth more than that.

And so are you.



All images are of Lilmummy.

Cure for the winter blues

Yesterday was supposed to statistically be the worst day of the year. The 21st January is when most people are most depressed, on average throughout the year. Considering what happened to the world stock market yesterday, this may well be true. But in actual fact the reason is chemical, not (just) financial.

We’re animals, so we’re supposed to be hibernating at this time of year. There’s less daylight, it’s cold and thus our metabolisms run slower. Our bodies want to hibernate, snuggle up in a nice warm comfy rabbit hole and go to sleep. A hundred years ago poor Russian peasants used to hibernate every winter, in order to stay alive during the winter months when food supply was scarce. They woke up once a day to eat, and slept the rest. This winter sleep was called lotska. (Sounds like a good way of avoiding the market crash to me.)

Nowadays, we don’t sleep as much as we should, of course. We must work, and because of the nature of modern society, we have to keep going regardless. Depression at this time of year is very common. Seasonal affective disorder is rife. Shorter days and longer hours of darkness in autumn and winter cause increased levels of melatonin and decreased levels of serotonin. The imbalance of these two hormones creates the biological conditions for depression.

The problem is caused by a cute little serotonin transporter called SERT, which is a throbbing little molecule that pumps serotonin back into cells. In the winter, the horny SERT becomes hyperactive with desire, and a little over-enthusiastic in its performance. The end result is that the hormone is sucked from the junction between neurons, called the synaptic cleft, much too quickly, resulting in a completely unsatisfied hormone imbalance, and those deeply frustrating seasonal blues.

Anyhoo, if any of you are still awake, you are doubtless on the edge of your seat, dripping with anticipation and longing to learn just what you can do to flog those sexed-up little SERT’s into submission. (Right? Right? Is anyone still reading this?)

Bright Light therapy can of course help with SAD, because of the increased vitamin D supply. But if you can’t afford a lamp, or if you can’t get out in the garden or get some exercise and some sunshine regularly, then may I recommend vitamin D3 supplements. Plus magnesium, B6 and High quality fish oil (EPA/DHA) daily, or just eat fish several times a week. The fish intake is critical. If you don’t get enough omega 3, you are going to screw up your body big-time, I promise you. People who have the right omega 3:6 ratios in their body rarely get depressed. Are you a vegan? If so, eat flaxseeds and walnuts every day instead.

Of course you have to be boring and live sensibly. You know the drill. Eat regularly, keep your glucose levels steady, no sugar, less saturated fat, more veggies, eat good food and not rubbish. Oats for breakfast are known as nature’s anti-depressant, so porridge is good mood food if you eat it. Chucking plenty of lemon balm in your cooking is a great stress reliever too.

O.K. enough of the nutrition stuff. (Once I get started it’s complete verbal diarrhoea, I swear. For the love of all that is good and sacred in the world, keep me OFF the subject of food.)

Lastly, my final prescription for perfect happiness? Lots of snuggling up in bed with your loved one. Steamy, raunchy, unbelievably good sex with oodles of orgasms is the perfect cure for those winter blues.



What? You mean you didn’t come here for a science lesson, or to hear about my sex life? O.K. I admit Pirate Maiden may go some way towards cheering you up too.

Sex on a Stalk

I’m a huge fan of vegetables. Some of you might get off on motorbikes, some on booze and birds, some on chickens (yes it‘s true, for one guy I know, chickens are his life’s work)…but for me it’s vegetables. They rock my world. Anyone else who does my weird life-extending diet will get this completely. Most of you will think I’m crazy (you’re certainly right.)

Of course I’m deeply into veggie porn. I can’t pass a farmer’s market without stopping, pausing spellbound and eyeing up the gorgeous array of plump, succulent, colourful shaped fruits and veggies. Ah the erotic curve of the red bell pepper, the way it blushes and deepens to a horny maroon at the base. The symmetry and beauty of a perfect pear. And don’t even get me started on a romanesco. That’s a type of cruciferous veggie - the lime green one with the amazing fractals. Breathtaking. Absolute perfection. I could drool for hours. Plus they’re remarkably tasty too.

So you’ll understand that artistic portrayals of veggies get my juices going. For my Christmas present, I’ve asked my artistic oldest son to draw me a perfect luscious cabbage. I am going to frame it and hang it on my wall.

“But Mum, it’s not art! It’s a cabbage! Vegetables aren’t art.”

Well, I have two things to say about still life art, and vegetables in particular. Firstly, thank God that art is subjective, because, as I explained to my son, absolutely anything can be art, if you think it is.

Secondly, I showed him Edward Weston’s vegetable photography. For those few that haven’t seen them, they are pure glossy veggie porn. Impeccably lit. Elegant, beautiful, sexual. Even my son had to admit that they were “something else” (although he’s not really sure what.)



My question to you: Is this art? If so why?
What was Weston trying to communicate with this image, and did he succeed?
It’s a bell pepper. But it’s a extraordinary bell pepper. It is surrealist art, and it’s utterly brilliant. But that’s just my opinion.



Here’s another famous one by Weston, of an aubergine (that’s “eggplant” to you Yanks). This one doesn’t do it for my son. He just thinks it’s an aubergine on a plate. So there’s no message, and no connection with the viewer.

So what’s the difference between the two? Why does one move us and the other not?

Well, the first one is sexual -it looks almost muscular and human is shape. It looks suggestive - almost like one of Weston’s nudes because it‘s shot in a studio in the same way as a naked woman. But there’s something else - it conveys a unique beauty in an everyday object. It makes you think. It has a certain “magic.” With the second aubergine shot, I just don’t see the meaning there. Good picture, but no soul. Is it the plate? Is the subject matter not unusual or mutant enough? Is the angle wrong? Ah it’s so frustrating! What the hell am I missing??? Or is there no meaning at all, and I’m really just a crazy old veggie-pornographer?

My apologies folks, I really suck at critiquing art. Maybe one of you more talented artists will be able to better explain why some still life art works, and why some just leaves the viewer thinking “why bother?”

Anyhoo, in an Weston-ese experiment, I asked Rich to shoot my cutie miniature pumpkin, before I stuff it and eat it. I call it Squash #4, as #1-3 he shot with a mask and pearls (Pearls? Masks? What on earth was he THINKING?!)
For those who are into china, the plate is by Denby, of course. (Welcome to the world of yummy-mummy china fetish.) I do think my cutie pumpkin is gorgeous, although IMO it would have been better with selective colour to show the pretty orangy tones of the pumpkin. But then it wouldn't have been very Weston-ese, and apparently selective colour is tacky anyway (I usually have to bully him into it.)




“So is it art?” I asked Rich.

“Nope,” he said.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because it hasn’t got boobies,” came the reply.

I give up.

I’m living in a cultural wasteland.

Stinky Sunday

Apologies for the lack of updates in recent days. This week has been frantic. It has been half term for the boys, and they have both had birthdays this week, which has resulted in a house full of other people's kids, plus marathon amounts of cooking, present buying/wrapping and generally picking up after them all week. Why is it that males make so much mess?

My middle son is deeply enthusiastic about cooking. I am not allowed to bake cakes without him, and I get interrogated on a daily basis by a small boy sniffing around to check I haven’t been cooking without him. Yesterday evening I finally escaped to the studio and had a quiet moment during which I thought I’d write a blog entry. Unfortunately I only had about ten minutes of peace and quiet, which was suddenly and abruptly shattered by Richard exploding through the studio door yelling, “Take the baby and get out of the house! NOW!!!”
Boggling somewhat, I grabbed my hysterical daughter, ignoring the searing pain in my side (not supposed to be lifting for another month yet), and galloped out of the house, simultaneously noting the vast plumes of smoke now emanating from the kitchen. I was joined quickly by two weepy and terrified boys who were also evacuating the premises at high speed.

It turned out that my dear son had decided to hone his cooking skills by heating up his supper (what was once-upon-a-time apple pie and custard) in the microwave, but instead of setting the timer for 30 seconds, he set it for 30 minutes, and then promptly forgot about it and went back to his computer game. Thirteen minutes later, my oldest son innocently enquired “Did someone burn the toast?”

The result? Complete panic, smoke, fire, weepy children, hysterical angry wife with PMT, heroic but mildly panicked father (renowned for his fire-fighting skills on several previous occasions), and no real harm dome other than a ruined bowl (my best china, mind you, as my son only uses the best), a terminal microwave and an extremely stinky house.

That was yesterday.

I have spent all of today trying to get the carbonated smell out of the house. I Googled extensively, and tried everything, from cleaning fluids, air fresheners, disinfectant, heating lemons and coffee (not together) but nothing worked, so I gave up. This afternoon, I decided to have a massive baking session, and so 40 cakes and one giant Mississippi-mud-pie later (I don’t do small portions – think “Izzie” from Greys Anatomy), the house finally smelled of freshly baked cakes, rather than burnt custard.

Now all I’ve got to do is find someone to eat the cakes.

Cake party anyone?



Chocolate cake and Claire Louisa. What more could you ask for?