To furnish the tables, I worked with the sculptor Tony Barton and the taxidermist David Astley. Tony produces uncannily realistic food models – such as lobsters and incredibly convincing oysters. He took the crustaceans apart, cast each section separately, made moulds, cast resin positives from them, then put these back together so they are articulated with flexible limbs. They’re sprayed and hand-painted to a high level of verisimilitude.
On the Baroque table are pies topped by feathered birds. It was a tradition in wealthy households to put a peacock or a swan on a pastry case, which had that animal’s meat inside. They often gilded the beaks and eyes and stuck gold leaf onto feathers – they even adorned birds with necklaces. There are paintings in the Fitzwilliam illustrating this.
The two exhibition curators – Vicky Avery, keeper of applied arts at the Fitzwilliam, and Melissa Calaresu, a historian at Cambridge – are people I’ve known for a long time. Several years ago I suggested exploring the food-related possibilities of the collection. As such, I was not just commissioned but I shaped many aspects of the exhibition, as Vicky and Melissa aren’t food specialists. About 90 per cent of the cookery books displayed in the cases belong to me – in total, I’ve lent about 90 items to the show. The museum has plenty of precious objects made of glass, silver and porcelain, and lots of paintings, but they don’t own culinary equipment.
The commission was made easier thanks to the fact I’ve done other work of this kind in places such as The Met and The Getty in Los Angeles. This is probably my last exhibition, however. It’s my swansong, if you’ll forgive the pun.