Cheese

Get some milk, the richer the better. It is normally the milk of an ungulate, that peculiar class of mammals which ranges (literally) from aardvark to zebra and includes donkeys and drongs, rhinos and rorquals, cows and sea-cows. Extract the whole milk into a vessel and let it stand for a while.

Add edible acids or enzymes, bacteria being the most common bio-active agents which wield such tools, to force the proteins to denature and coagulate. Some bacteria are homofermentative: they produce only lactic acid. Some are heterofermentative: they are more creative and produce aldehydes and ketones as well. Let the mixture ferment. This gives you curds (casein, fat) and whey (minor proteins, lactose).

You want the curds. Precipitate the casein with rennet, or some other source of stomach enzymes. This separates as a soft solid, trapping some fat in a matrix of collapsed proteins. Let the curds separate and then bag them in cheesecloth or other fine material that is tough and clean. Fluid drains out, leaving a semi-solid mass behind. How solid is up to you, the cheesemaker.

This mass can now be artistically ripened, naturally from outside in, a process that leaves a smooth graduation from rind to centre. Or not so naturally, by having more bacteria or other organisms (cheese mites, for example, in Mimolette) eat into the cheese and die, letting the air into places it wouldn't normally reach. You can pierce holes or syringe the organisms into the cheese. Let the cheese age.

Wash the cheese, package the cheese, do many other artistic things to it. It will soon be ready to eat for some people, or a revolting mess to others. This is what the cheesemaker's art is all about. This is what it means to be a cheese artisan.

Responses 008 (2010-2011)

Question 8 really looks intriguing. " 'Art is a lie that brings us nearer to the truth.'—Pablo Picasso. Evaluate this claim in relation to a specific art form (for example, visual arts, literature, theatre). " Of course, it is an example of hyperbole, in some sense; the word 'lie' here is not used in the way that we normally use it.

In what sense then is it used? With only a passing reference to Picasso's own works, art can be seen as a way of constructing a physical metaphor for a mental or physical reality. A photograph, for example, is an image of something and not the thing itself; a ballet expresses something but is not itself that thing.

The second part of that quote is 'nearer to the truth'. It is one of those bait-and-switch things, viewed uncharitably. What Picasso implies is that the artist's modality is to make a representation of reality that brings out some underlying truth in that reality which you wouldn't otherwise perceive. In that sense, it is 'nearer to the truth' because you wouldn't otherwise see the truth by looking at the original thing.

An artist's eye (or ear, or tongue, or whatever) is then a specialised tool for bringing out reality by stripping a real thing of elements that conceal other elements; the concealed elements, whether genuinely hidden or implicit or inferrable, are the truth(s) to which the artist seeks to bring you closer.

After that hurdle, everything else is easier...

Artery

My comrade Il Duce today gave an interesting lecture on Art. He maintained that Art is essentially a contrivance designed to elicit response on one, some, many or any levels. It has a duty to attempt this feat and must be respected insofar as it makes this attempt. It must be respected as the Other or as an evocation of the Other. However, it need not respect any particular respondent. This is a very useful definition.

Changeling

Generally, I'm happy to be doing what I do. I must confess I feel perturbed that so many people are asking about my plans for next year as if I haven't any. It has in fact triggered an unusual response in me. I am seriously considering change now.

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Edit: Well, at least someone thinks I have a choice of careers. Check out the beautiful art of Justin Michael Jenkins. Especially you, dancer(s). You know who you are.

Zoological

"Survival," said the autist to the landscape-painter, "is a matter of making friends with the rhino."

The landscape-painter merely grunted as he added a tiny dot of ultramarine violet to the canvas on his easel.

"In fact," said the autist, warming to his task and rubbing his broad hands together, "you might want to think about why the largest of the ferocious are leaders in their own categories. It's like a matriarchy of blood in the wilderness."

A slash with the palette-knife, an odd twist of the wrist, and the landscape-painter added another two antelope to his tableau.

"Think of the dying lion leading his pride in the Serengeti."

The artist looked up. "A lion lives and dies by his lionesses, the scavengers around him, the larger beasts, and the amount of food available. And a lion in his winter is dangerous to men."

"What are you painting?" asked the autist with a slight twinge of unease.

"The Serengeti as it should have been."