Artist Residency & Gallery

TIMELINE: 6 weeks

APPLICATIONS USED: Adobe Premiere Pro, Adobe Photoshop, Bristol Paper

ABOUT THE VIDEO PROCESS:

My senior capstone course was geared toward relating architecture to other interests of ours, rather than being an architectural design driven class. Because of the freedom given, I was able to combine my love of video making, food, architecture, and culture into a video essay. The argument of the video essay is that there is a strong connection between food and nostalgia. Even though food ranges in importance for people, it is of essence to our survival. As such, memories subconsciously become attached to the countless meals we consume throughout our life. During my studies, I encountered food resulting in a variety of emotions such, however I became especially  fascinated with  its relationship with nostalgia. Nostalgia, like food, is something common amongst everyone, yet what triggers it could not be more unique. Triggered by smells, familiar tunes, or even random objects, however one thing that is common amongst people, is nostalgia's link with food. In the project I delve into one way nostalgia is triggered for me, knowing that would never trigger others'. Thus, the project's intent is not to evoke nostalgia, but to shed some light into how it appears, and how a food recipe can easily result in nostalgia, as well as how it impacts the future generations.

​

SCRIPT:

Picture this: you walk into grandma’s house and the sizzling sounds coming from the stove have all your attention. A quick inhale reveals the unmistakable smell of Soffritto. Soffritto, or onions, carrots, and sometimes celery tossed in olive oil,  is known as Gli Odori for many Italians; it translates to the Smells. In our culture, Soffritto is a base for many dishes and its smell is guaranteed to cause some Italians to salivate. Nostalgia, first coined in the 17th century by a Swiss medical student, comes from two words, “nostos” and “algos”, meaning “return home” and “pain”. When I think of what makes me nostalgic I think of my grandma’s house. I picture the sunny afternoons during which I’d play outside with my toy cars in some sand they gave us (where cats would unfortunately occasionally poop). I think of my grandma on the other side of the open kitchen window asking me to come and taste the pasta dough. She would always make me taste the dough when it was done, and I never understood why. It turns out, she was training me to know if the dough was a good mix, or if there needed to be added ingredients. Oh the music? I listened to Queen frequently when I was young, though I had no clue what the lyrics meant. I just liked the way their music sounded. Hearing this two weeks ago on the radio brought that memory back so it seemed appropriate. Anyways, nostalgia is often triggered by sensory experiences, such as smells, sounds, or tastes. My grandma was always cooking, she still is. Cooking is one of her favorite activities, along with sewing, acting and socializing. When it comes to her family, the most rewarding of her activities was cooking by far, as my brother and I devoured anything she put in front of us. Grandma would always talk through what she was doing. I thought she was mildly crazy, but I realize now that she wasn’t talking to herself, she did it for me. By hearing her process over and over again, I have retained her recipe without knowing. One thing that grandma has done, and will always do, is barely touch her creations. Her endless list of recipes can be described as one more delicious than the last. However, she would take our word for it. She often only took a couple bites, since she was never hungry. How, I used to wonder, does she not want to eat this yummy food? The answer is Nostalgia. Her upbringing was modest, as rural Italy was generally poor and disconnected from the larger world, living in secluded societies where couples would stay together out of necessity and food was a challenge to come by. For my grandma, her three siblings, and her parents though, there was a saving grace. Her dad loved fruit. He would always bring home fruit, regardless of the time of the year, how much he had in his pocket, and how long his shift was. She grew up in a household where food was not plentiful, but fruit kept them satisfied. Nostalgia can be expressed in a multitude of ways; through literature, music, and art. That is what my grandma’s food is: art. She ensures that those who depend on her are fed with the best food she can come up with, but she remains in her comfort zone of fruit. Once I learned this information, I noticed just how much my grandma eats fruit. Occasionally, the meal she has during lunch can be summed up by a couple bites of each course she created (which could go from two plates total to 7, or sometimes even 8), and at least two fruits. While I do not cherish fruit like she does, I unknowingly fall in the same loop of nostalgia as her. As I cook this, I fill my mind with beautiful memories and joyful experiences. It is impossible to smell this video, and yet, while editing it, I did so all the same. That is the power of Nostalgia, allowing you to feel, taste, and smell what is not really there. While smelling the finished product I often picture my grandma telling me lunch is ready and me running away from my sand-based racetrack and toward the lunch table. In a sense, not only do I eat something I enjoy, but I recreate a memory over and over, and I can not help myself. She’s had many signature dishes, but Ragú is probably my favorite. I serve it knowing it does not taste as good as when my grandma makes it, but it has similar love embedded within it, love for family and those who take care of us. Nostalgia is personal, I know this dish does not evoke the same emotions for whoever eats it, but that’s okay. The fact that you may be in your kitchen, or even on the street and something as small as a smell, a certain image, or even a sound can transport you to a different time is something we all share, like food-and I think that should be cherished.