I like that this list is colourful, it makes a nice change from the boring white or lined paper that seem to be most common amongst Sefton’s shoppers.
This list interests me most not because of the still quite interesting contents – it looks like a Mediterranean roast might be on the menu – but more so for the extravagance of the paper it’s written on and also what isn’t on the list.
I once did a performance at a gallery partly inspired by Robert Rauschenberg’s Erased De Kooning drawing, in which I rubbed out some of the drawings I had done as a young boy.
Star Wars, Rambo, A-Team characters , all of which now exist only as grooves in thirty-year-old pieces of paper where pencil once sat thanks to that intervention on the theme of Demolition.
As B develops her mark-making skills at a fast rate, I wonder if she will be doing something similar in a few years, when space allows I will keep her scrawlings just in case. Talking of female artists, Sophie Calle once did a project involving eating things of the things of one colour each day of the week, entitled The Chromatic Diet.
I tell you all of this because the omissions contradict the usual process. A shopping list is, by definition, an aide memoire and normally discarded only once it’s served its purpose: it is unusual to see things crossed out seemingly before the shopping trip takes place.
I wonder why certain ingredients on this list – what looks like avocado, broccoli, cauliflower and peas – were suddenly not needed that day.
Were they bought somewhere else?
Was there a last minute change of heart – or taste?
For someone seemingly into their colours, this list appears quite anti-green vegetables.
Maybe it was Sophie Calle’s list, written on a Thursday.