Kitchen Art: Why Small Food Paintings Belong Where You Actually Eat

The kitchen is the room most of us spend the most waking hours in, and it usually gets the worst art in the house. A calendar from the pharmacy, a lemon print that came with the frame, maybe a magnet shaped like a croissant. I think the room where you actually make coffee, burn toast and talk to people deserves better than that.

I have written about weird food art for kitchen walls before. Those are my detailed paintings with bees and skulls hiding in the cake. This article is about something different: my Food Studies, a new series of small, loose oil paintings of fruit and breakfast in neon colours, and why I think small food paintings are the best kind of kitchen art there is.

Food paintings have always lived close to the kitchen

Painting food is not a new idea, and it was never a lowly one. In 16th century Antwerp, painters like Pieter Aertsen and Joachim Beuckelaer made huge "kitchen pieces" with mountains of cabbages, fish and meat in the foreground. In 18th century Paris, Jean-Siméon Chardin painted peaches, copper pots and a single brioche with so much care that people still stand in front of them in the Louvre. And in the 1960s, Wayne Thiebaud painted cakes and pies with paint so thick it looks like frosting.

What all of them understood: food is something everybody knows by heart. You do not need an art history degree to look at a painted strawberry and feel something. Usually hunger, sometimes nostalgia, occasionally the urge to lick the canvas (please do not). If you are curious why painters also kept putting skulls next to that fruit, I wrote about it in Memento Mori and Vanitas Art.

Why small works so well in a kitchen

Kitchen walls are chopped into pieces. Between the upper cabinets and the window, above the light switch, next to the fridge, on the open shelf beside the olive oil. A big canvas rarely fits anywhere, but a painting the size of a saucer fits almost everywhere.

Small paintings also get looked at in a different way. You do not walk past them, you stand close. And the kitchen is full of little waiting moments: the kettle, the toaster, the pasta water that refuses to boil. That is exactly the amount of time a small painting needs.

How to hang art in a kitchen without ruining it

• Not directly above the stove or kettle. Steam and grease settle on everything, and your art is no exception. A spot a little to the side is enough.
• Out of direct sunlight. Kitchen windows are often the sunniest in the flat. Strong daylight fades colours over time, on prints and paintings.
• Frame prints behind glass. Then a quick wipe of the glass is all the cleaning they ever need.
• Dust originals gently. My Food Studies get a protective final varnish, but they still prefer a soft dry brush or cloth. No cleaning spray, ever.
• Lean instead of nail. If you rent or change your mind a lot, lean a small piece on an open shelf between your jars. Food paintings look very at home next to actual food.

The Food Studies originals

I wanted these paintings to feel faster, looser and more instinctive than my detailed Candy Decay originals. The brushstrokes stay visible, the colours are loud and nothing gets polished into submission. Each one is a one of a kind oil painting, 15 × 15 cm (5.9 × 5.9 in), signed by me and finished with a protective varnish. Each original costs 250 euro.

One honest note: oil paint dries slowly, so a freshly painted Food Study usually ships around six weeks after purchase. I explain why in Small Paintings, Slow Paint.

Strawberries No. 01

Number one, the painting that started the series. Three strawberries on a neon pink, blue and mint ground. It is the most classic still life of the three, and probably the one those Antwerp kitchen painters would recognise first.

See the Strawberries No. 01 original →

Avocado No. 02

Ripe avocados against neon pink and blue violet. Green next to pink is one of the loudest pairings there is, and it makes a humble avocado look like it is lit from inside. Perfect for anyone whose kitchen runs on toast.

See the Avocado No. 02 original →

Watermelon No. 03

Watermelon slices on neon pink, turquoise and violet. The brightest of the three, and a little piece of summer for a kitchen in February.

See the Watermelon No. 03 original →

The hand-signed prints

If you want the series without the six week wait, or you want more than one of them on the wall, every Food Study also exists as a hand-signed print. They are 21 × 21 cm (8.3 × 8.3 in), printed in my own studio, signed by hand and finished with my embossed artist stamp. Each print costs 35 euro.

There are two newer members of the series that you can currently only get as prints:

Clementine No. 04

A juicy clementine with loose brushwork and visible texture. One small orange shape that somehow smells like winter.

Shop the Clementine No. 04 print →

Pancake No. 05

Pancakes with fruit and syrup, and the first Food Study that is a whole breakfast instead of a single fruit. Weekend morning energy, in paint.

Shop the Pancake No. 05 print →

And the first three as prints: Strawberries No. 01, Avocado No. 02 and Watermelon No. 03.

A little wall of neon snacks

The Food Studies are numbered on purpose. I like the idea that they grow into a small wall over time, the way a spice rack fills up. A few ways to hang them:

• A row of three at eye level between the cabinets and the counter.
• A tight grid of four or six with small, even gaps. Square formats make this very easy.
• One original in the middle, prints around it. The original gets the spotlight, the prints keep it company.

You can see all originals in the Food Studies collection and all prints in the Food Studies prints collection. Not sure which format is right for you? My guide to originals, prints and downloads explains the difference.

Now go put something on that kitchen wall that makes you hungry.