Have you ever thought about what goes into a hotdog – really thought about it? After visiting The Lion’s Share, an exhibition at the Dalhousie Art Gallery by Rita McKeough, you might think twice. And if you venture behind the Goldberg Computer Science Building, Ron Benner’s garden, titled Trans/mission: Insubstantial Equivalence, could prompt you to question the provenance of your next cob of corn.
At first glance, McKeough’s exhibition resembles any other diner: a dozen tables each with two chairs, decorations on the walls, hotdogs and fried eggs waiting on plates for hungry patrons, an aquarium filled with fish, from which to select dinner — even a set of swinging doors leading to a “kitchen.”
Look a little closer, however, and you’ll see the table legs were carved to fine points, and there’s a pile of similar wooden “spears” to be used instead of forks. The milk, eggs and hotdogs are all handmade from industrial materials by the artist, and the fish are made of wood (… fish “sticks,” anyone?). In the kitchen, you’ll have to stare down a madly clucking hen to place an order.
“Both [McKeough’s and Benner’s works] are fun commentaries about a serious problem: our industrial food system, and the inequalities and harm within it,” says Elizabeth Fitting, associate professor in the Department of Sociology and Social Anthropology.
“McKeough’s work in particular is like a fun house,” she continues. “The sticks and the hotdogs, the hysterical chicken who can’t produce eggs fast enough to keep up with the orders – she’s actually having a nervous breakdown because of the demands placed on her.”
“It’s very surreal,” Dr. Fitting elaborates. “It reflects how surreal the food system is, and how disconnected we are from the sources of our food. What is a hotdog, these days, anyway? The spears present a contrast between how humans were in past, as hunters and gatherers, to today, as consumers of overly processed meat products, whose origins we have no idea about.”
Hotdogs have been around for a while: they first appeared in Frankfurt, Germany just over 500 years ago. Back then, however, people were aware of what when into them. Other Western convenience foods – “cheezies,” say, or pizza “pockets” – might be the kinds of things Dr. Fitting is thinking of when she paraphrases author Michael Pollan: “We should ask ourselves a question about the foods we buy and consume: would what we’re choosing to eat be recognizable as food to our great-grandmothers?”
How does your hybrid garden grow?
In the summer, Dr. Fitting spoke with Ron Benner about his garden installation behind the Goldberg Computer Science Building, in the centre of which are rows of hybrid maize. For those not in the know: hybrid corn is made when two varieties — "each of which have been inbred to the point of genetic uniformity," says Dr. Fitting — are planted together and the pollen of one is allowed to fertilize the flowers of another (a process that can happen naturally via bees). However, like with genetically modified (GM) seed, large commercial companies control the process; and consequently, they “own” the seed.
“The commercial seed doesn’t self-propagate, and because second-generation hybrids have a lower yield, farmers interested in maintaining a high yield have to buy it from the company, as opposed to using the open-pollenating varieties,” Dr. Fitting confirms. “Benner is not just [commenting on] the commercialization, the commodification of food, but of living things, of life.”
Near the hybrid maize is a natural garden featuring native North American plants, including traditional varieties of maize. Behind are hung photos of plants in the Ethnobotanical Garden in Oaxaca, Mexico. To Dr. Fitting, this demonstrates a “contrast between the mono-cropping of the industrial food system versus the very bio-diverse practices that used to characterize the worlds’ agricultural production, and that are still key characteristics in places like Mexico.”
Benner also organized a corn roast in September, which to Dr. Fitting is “another way of saying that corn is more than a just commodity in places like Mexico. The roast represents a connection to the land, and it’s also about being social – the sense of community that we get through food.”
And clearly, one can also understand McKeough’s faux diner installation as a comment on industrial food and social practices. Yet this message isn’t force-fed, so to speak: the installation features no didactic or interpretive panels hinting at either materials or meaning.
Dinner conversation
Dr. Fitting says this approach could help encourage dialogue about the food system. “I think it’s less intimidating for people not familiar with the language of art galleries or art history. They’re freer to talk about their reactions. And I think the artist wants to spark a conversation – she’s asking people to think critically about the industrial food system. That’s a strong message. Not every critique has to be presented in the same way.”
Food systems and consumption habits are near and dear to Dr. Fitting’s heart: she teaches food-themed courses, including Food Activism next semester. McKeough’s installation, she believes, could be a valuable teaching tool: “I’d pick up on a couple of themes — certainly the sense of alienation and disconnect.”
From there, Dr. Fitting says she would “talk about cultural theories … and panic and anxiety around food, as a characteristic of the industrial food system.” As well, she’d highlight the title, The Lion’s Share, “to get students to think about inequities at different scales – the household, the community, the region, the country, and globally. What’s being presented in the show is that we – as humans around the globe and particularly in the global north – are taking more than our share of resources.”
“It’s a depressing topic,” she says. “But rather than just educating about the serious problem of our industrial food system, both Benner’s and McKeough’s work offers playful contrasts.”
“I would love for students to go see it,” she concludes. “If anybody hasn’t seen [the diner or the garden] yet, they really should!”