watching the light

I have been taking photographs of food all my life. I remember pointing the Polaroid camera at popsicles or a roast turkey in November, the resolution blurry, the light murky. My dear friend Sharon and I used to sit at Le Pain Quotidien in New York City on a regular basis. And I would make photographs of the coffee cups filled with milky coffee and the sandwiches on thick bread. I must have stood above a table with a film camera or a disposable camera or a point and shoot hundreds of times before I started a space where people would see my photos. It’s this weird habit I have always maintained — taking photos of my meals.

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