documentation of Lactofermenting Workshop at Bloc Projects, Sheffield 2018 by Peter Martin
Anyone who knows me or watches my relentless online performance will appreciate my love for fermented foods. I’m not talking about ‘hmm yeah, he likes a pickle, does our Roy’, I mean I fully drink kvass or brine every morning and dream about tempeh every night. The amount of dates, dinners and birthday parties I’ve ruined by turning up cradling a vat of something bubbling is innumerable.
I eat or drink something I have fermented everyday and not only does this make me incredibly smug, it also has helped me lose weight and stay relatively illness-free. I’m not proclaiming immunity or scientific proof, but there’s a bodily truth that cannot be refuted. It has helped me save money and meet a swathe of similarly nerdy enthusiasts both online and across London. I deeply feel the positive impacts on my life, so naturally I want to share these skills, release the knowledge I’ve accumulated into the world.
My obsession grew from a workshop I took when I lived in Hastings with a local illustrator called Scott Garrett, who led a practical medley at Bargain Gallery (rip). It was chaotic good, we all brought our own materials - veg, jars, salt - and Scott brought some for the commons - ginger, garlic, vinegar, sugar, and we were hunched over these mismatched tables with chairs flung behind us (and I might be wrong but I think we listened to country music the whole time). The instructions were first presented, discussed amongst tables, then bellowed again upon request; a format that I have very much been inspired by. It held the room in perpetual drama, embraced the yelps and groans, it was like being on a gameshow. I felt so energised when I left, a few beers deep cradling some stinky, seeping jars, and luckily - as promised - the authentic experience of transforming food with my hands has never left.
That was in 2016, which is a different worldtime altogether; since I have run about 40 workshops across the country - some pay-what-you-can sessions at Brixton Pound, prioritising low-income and Learning Disabled friends of the cafe, and some free demos in charities, galleries and artist-runs as part of their public programme. Noticing a huge gap in participatory arts and crafts within institutions led me to thinking how I could impart knowledge and earn a suitable fee while resisting their archaic expectations to produce physical outcomes. Food connects everyone, so why is it so far removed from these arenas of cultural exchange?
I very much began winging these workshops before I really knew what I was doing, with no expertise but bags of enthusiasm, forming part-social part-practical sessions. My first was at Muddy Yard, a DIY space run by then-new friend Alex McNamee out of a guardianship property in Brixton Hill. I brought a sack of veg from the market, some salt, vinegar and spices. Participants brought their own jars and a small cash donation. We drank gallons of tea, shared experiences and packed jars full of bright pickles. I could see some of the excitement I’d felt on my first go all over their faces, this is what I would take away.
The role I play in these workshops is more performative than scientific. I prep a recipe but not a script, lead with a loud voice and a grin: underneath many layers of self-deprecation and nervousness, there is a prepubescent blonde boy that loves drama class. Like with anything you practise, the more I would do, the more confidence and enjoyment I would get from it. It’s pure manifestation. And I’ve thought a lot about the way I present myself and the educational angle. Why am I doing this, and in this manner? Is it significant that I am not an expert - a dietician or chef - and can I manage other people’s expectations? How best can I communicate my enthusiasm?
As someone who is not shy in groups, I’ve realised that I naturally draw attention to myself because I will talk to fill gaps. Luckily, I’ve noticed how creating social frameworks through incessantly talking, asking questions and encouraging discussion or feedback has been extremely useful in making people feel relaxed and engaged.
Taking the heat but sharing the love is my intuitive language (inherited from a nurse mother and a publican father).
The author (3rd right) with participants at his first ever pickling workshop at Muddy Yard, Brixton 2017
____________________________
As an artist and educator, the idea of gently absolving myself from a role I’ve created is important as it embodies how I feel about the knowledge I have acquired and those who I share it with. No matter how much time I spend preparing a workshop, what my pickles taste like, or whether I say the right thing, as soon as there is a transfer it no longer belongs to me. Historically I’ve been extremely anxious at the thought of this, internally panicking; ‘how will I be remembered?’; ‘will I inspire them?’; ‘what if they don’t agree?’ and I’m glad to say I’ve been cured of this blight.
The fundamental multiplicity of language and individual interpretation is something to marvel over. Two people hearing exactly the same words, and seeing exactly the same actions at the same time will have wildly different reception: this should be celebrated, not corrected. Ancient recipes were passed down by mouth and hands, slightly tweaked at every transaction depending on seasonal materials, access to tools or creative flair. It’s only through the perpetuation of hyper-competitivity instilled in us through traditional education that we have come to believe that divergence is poor communication.
Gatekeepers of culture are deeply concerned about horizontal learning, as it makes the classic hierarchies redundant. Self-organisation is purported to be ‘radical’ or ‘dangerous’, when in my experiences it has always been generous and supportive. There is a capitalist drive towards economic efficiency, towards competing in the marketplace of ideas, and this sentiment cannot contain, control or claim ownership of the buzzing undergrowth of auto-didacts and circular pedagogy.
Alternative educational structures release individuals from predetermined expectations and outcome-based progress. In this toppling of the singular, we encounter the multiple multiple multiple.
----------------
Fermentation is a multi-dimension collaboration. Players (agents) include:
Recipes
Vegetables
Salt
Water
Bodies (human and bacteria)
Time
Once the practical preparation of a ferment has been completed, we relinquish control to Time.