A description of the project from
an object that lives in the space.
You see I no longer work, been here for a while.
Seen students, interns and teachers.
Each comes from a different background,
some slam the pot like they are angry and
others cook passionately.
Well I have one job to heat up,
cook their food and make them
feel like home.
But sometimes I feel things,
I hear the sounds of food bubbling
and I see how they move around their pots
and food making rituals. I may be silent
but I carry their stories, recipes and
know their ingredients.
I learned about many recipes, its big building and many floors. Students from all around the word come and temporarily consider me as part of their home.
I boil their eggs, make noodles and impress lovers, yes. I see how partners cook differently when they are about to see each other. I may be off, but I hold traces of people who once lived here.
Many people called this home.
Pesto sauce pasta, soy sauce eggs, boiled pumpkin,
potato nights, I engulf it all.
By night I'm messy and there are crumbs around me.
In the morning, when everyone is asleep a dear friend comes and cares for my wellness, cleaning the drips of sauce and scrubbing the crust that grows over me.
My friend leaves, and other visitors start coming.
This one is cooking breakfast and that is making a weekly meal prep. This lady is eating bone broth, this guy is steaming cabbage, and a person in a hoodie making Earl
gray biscuits very late at night.
A group hosting a party with pasta and different foods while someone is heating a mac and cheese box.
They graduate, and different students circulate.
I'm always here to make them warm. Making their
dorms a home.
Whether it’s egg curry,
Ukrainian pastry with strawberry,
handmade naan or brewing Dominican coffee.
There is something magical about recipes
they could bring a sense of home wherever we go.
If you want to experience other
poetic observations
and meaningful explorations.
@opticorator
With Gratitude,
- Rashid.