Geoffrey Farmer

The Big Kitchen
14 January — 25 February, 2017


In my child­hood, very ear­ly in the morn­ings, I went about deliv­er­ing news­pa­pers to kitchen doors. There was one old wood­en house with an immense, old-fash­ioned kitchen and some­times I was invit­ed in for a glass of orange juice. I would stand still by the counter and linger there exam­in­ing the large inte­ri­or. I became curi­ous about a book­shelf crammed with what appeared to be some well used books. They were unusu­al­ly stained, seem­ing­ly mis­used, cov­ered in goop, stained with oil, and crammed with papers of var­i­ous sizes and colours. Some­thing got into my mind, about these books, won­der­ing why they were in the kitchen, and why some­one would choose to read them there. For this rea­son, I have always con­nect­ed lit­er­a­ture with the kitchen. The kitchen is the first place I remem­ber being struck (with a wood­en spoon), get­ting burned bad­ly (on the stove), and read­ing the news, and it is also the place where I received a bowl of warm oat­meal every morn­ing. Lat­er I dis­cov­ered that those books were recipes; take a white space, stir in 3 draw­ings, add a text and bake for 30 days. As I grew up the kitchen dimin­ished in size, there were more argu­ments, few­er meals and less mys­tery, until final­ly the giant kitchen of my child­hood van­ished entire­ly.