We are what we eat. Consuming enough calories is no longer just a necessity.
(above, from left to right) Make Me A Sandwich, Mixed Media Sculpture and Artist-Fabricated Clothing, 2023. 'Fill Me In' Sandwich Counter, Mixed Media Sculpture and Artist-Fabricated Clothing, 2023. Stack of Sandwiches, Mixed Media Sculpture, 2023.
The uncanny sculptures and installations of Milly Aburrow delve into our relationship with food. Subtract the digestible properties of typical items found at any fast food counter, restaurant, supermarket, or takeaway, and we are left with the baggage that surrounds anything other than home-made.
It’s no secret that any marketing preys on human psychological weaknesses in order to shift products. Just as individual identity can be deduced from what you buy, what or where you choose to eat raises socio-economic stigma that communicates certain values, philosophies, or priorities, even if you don’t visit regularly.
When Aburrow removes the intrinsic edible properties from food, we are left with recreations of the environments that hospitality cultivates in order to keep us coming back for more. Flashy branding, uniforms, furniture, cutlery, and utensils. Bright logos, friendly, always-smiling staff, eye-catching deals, and unbeatable prices. Elements from anywhere we have ever eaten exist somewhere within these compositions.
The signage depicted is derivative of the classic lozenge or swirl logo of years gone by. Evoking feelings of my perception of fast-food as a child, and irrational desire and desperation for any food that promised a small plastic toy, star-studded promotion, or at the very least the approval of the protagonist from any animated movie arriving at screens near me.
“Through a playful colour palette and a comical stylisation, she [Aburrow] characterises the parameters of commercialisation and our consumerist society that defines a part of everyone’s life.”
The title Fill Me In is satiating an appetite far beyond caloric. When we purchase any form of sustenance, from three-course meals to cartilage-derived candies, we are buying an experience, a characteristic, or an aspiration. We are what we eat, purely because our individual components are dictated by what we choose to consume and where we choose to consume it, whether we like it or not. Without loaded substance, we are monochrome, one-dimensional outlines, calling out for our next provision of colour.
Just as what goes up must come down, what goes in must come out. We will never be filled. We will always require more. More will never be enough. (Everything is borrowed.)
Next time, we will make a new decision, accumulating broad or narrow banks of experiences and perspectives. A cocktail of secret spice blends or liquid lunches, everything we eat leaves a legacy. Visible in waistlines, complexions, attitudes, bank balances, or colons; long after last orders were called, the advertising campaigns climaxed, or pose-able polymer characters are deposited deep beneath the ground. The fabrications of Milly Aburrow embody our licence of consent surrendered to family-run businesses, multinational corporations, and everything in between, delegating a free hand in labelling, categorising, or commodifying our deepest desires.
28.06.2023
Website: millyaburrow.com
Instagram: @portfolio.milly