I worked in a restaurant this summer and I was simultaneously repulsed and amazed by the process that food would go through on a daily basis. At first, the food is raw and clean, then it's massaged, sculpted and sliced into delicious shape. Scraps are left behind and are carried back to the kitchen, and put with other scraps in a big bin. The congregation of scraps become this simultaneously familiar and alien substance, now unified in commitment to oil, grease and butter. Together the scraps slosh onto the floor and jump onto the ceiling. The slime left in the movement creates a thin veneer over both the people working in the kitchen and the kitchen itself. Eventually the scraps move to the garbage, where they slide out of their bin like a fat snake escaping capture, viscerally giving into gravity and meeting kin.

The work pictured above is an attempt at seeing processes of decay and growth simultaneously. In 

two months the plant did not rot but the chicken did, and a thin layer of bacteria grew on top of the 

fermenting fluid on the bottom right.