Art Gallery

Ode to Breakfast by Chloe Graffeo

On Being a Guest, and Dumpling Evenings by Leo Racicot

Illustrations and Animation by Alix Marson

Paintings by Malina Syvoravong

Nasturtium in the Kitchen by Cynthia Staples

Watercolors by Sara Zin

Food (De)fetishized by Kelsey Hatch

Fair Trade, Paintings by Allen Forrest

Illustrations by Reneé Leigh Stephenson

Collage by Lisa Mase

Paintings by Allen Forrest

Two Images by Betsy DiJulio

Photography by Aaron Graubart

Patterns by Nicole Sczesny

Jiaozi by Julian Jackson

Fruit Basket by Giuseppe Arcimboldo

Natural Intelligence by Besty DiJulio

"Andes" by Claire Ibarra

"America" by Claire Ibarra

Artwork by Danielle Boodoo-Fortuné

Photography by Bill Brady

Finger Painting by Tammy Ruggles

Artwork by Betsy DiJulio

Food Illustrations by Jessie Kanelos Weiner

Vegetable Papyrus by I. Batsheva

Photographs by Louise Fabiani

Photographs by Martha Clarkson and Jim Carpenter

Food Stylings by Jessie Kanelos Weiner

Eating Alone by Jeannette Ferrary

Illustrations by Tom Bingham

Schiciatta d'Uva by LeAnne Thomas

The Four Seasons by Giuseppe Arcimboldo

Epicurious Potato Heads by Natasha Bacca

Paintings by Cynthia Tollefsrud

Photographs by Eleanor Bennett

Illustrations by Brooke Albrecht

Photographs by Cynthia Staples

Mutatoes by Uli Westphal

Alice Brock

Damon Belanger

Louis Dunn

Stéphanie Kilgast

Mark Kurlansky

Marilyn Murphy

Nina Talbot

Mark Kurlansky

Click here for an important message from Mark about the humanitarian crisis in Haiti.

Drawing of Haiti by Mark KurlanskyPort-au-Prince, drawing by Mark Kurlansky from The White Man in the Tree and other stories


Mark Kurlansky woodcut, self-portrait

Featured in Alimentum Issue Eight, these original woodcuts by author Mark Kurlansky were inspired by his translation of Emile Zola's The Belly of Paris published in May 2009 by Modern Library.

For more information on Mark Kurlansky, visit his website.

 

 

 

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In the opening of the novel an emaciated man, Florent, who has miraculously escaped from the French Guiana penal colony is making his way back to Paris. Almost there he has been out of money and on foot since Normandy. Starving and exhausted, he collapses in the road. Someone shouts at him and he is dragged out of the way to allow wagons full of food to pass on their way to the Les Halles market.

Kurlansky woodcut, Florent passes out in the road

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In my favorite scene of the book, the family is sitting around at night in the family charcuterie, up to their elbows in blood, making boudin noir. The little girl overheard Florent telling someone the horrifying story of his escape and she demands to hear the story of the man who was eaten by animals. He puts her on his lap, while the cat purrs nearby and the family stirs the blood and begins, "Once upon a time…" proceeding to tell a horrifying story of people starved, beaten to death, eaten alive by crabs...

Kurlansky woodcut, Florent telling someone the horrifying story__________________________________________________________________

Florent became the inspector in the fish market where he was shoved and abused by the women who sold fish. "The waifs of Rue de l'Estrapade had never had the ferocity of the women of Les Halles, the relentlessness of these huge women, whose bellies and bosoms bobbed with the glee of giants, whenever they could trick him in anyway. They stared him down with their red faces. In the inflections of their hoarse voices, the swaying of their hips, the flips of their hands, he could read the obscenities being hurled at him."

Kurlansky woodcut, the women of Les Halles__________________________________________________________________

Mademoiselle Saget, the diminutive neighborhood gossip, spilled the latest on Florent to La Sariette, the voluptuous fruit vendor at the cheese shop of Madame Lecour, an embittered spinster. But they could not stay long among the cheeses, "the pale yellow mont d'ors released a sweet smell, the troyes, which were thick and bruised on the edges, were stronger smelling than the others, adding a fetid edge to the damp cellar, the camemberts with their scent of decomposing game; neufchâtels, the limbourg, the marolles, the pont-l'évèques, each one playing its own shrill note in a composition that was almost sickening; the livarots, dyed red, harsh and sulphurous in the throat; and then, the olivets, wrapped in walnut leaves the way peasants cover with branches rotting carcasses of animals lying by the side of the road in the heat of the sun."

Kurlansky woodcut, among the cheeses__________________________________________________________________

At night Florent returns to his garret above his brother’s charcuterie. He can still smell the central market spread out below his window. "From a distance the meat market and the tripe market discharged a steam with the dull scent of blood. The vegetable and fruit markets exhaled the smell of sour cabbage, rotten apples, and greens chucked into the street. The butter stank, the fish market had a peppery freshness. And at his feet he could see the poultry market pushing a blast of hot air through its ventilation turret, a stench that poured out like soot from a factory. The cloud of all these breaths gathered over the rooftop, drifted to the neighboring houses and spread into a heavy cloud over all of Paris. It was Les Halles bursting out of its steel belt and warming the sleep of the overfed city belching with indigestion. " Florent sat at his desk and feverishly planned the revolution.

Kurlansky woodcut, Florent sat at his desk