I was interested in what death is. To know the moment where life breaks into it. I have never killed an animal before consciously. I wanted to feel the moment where the flowing change of life is interrupted by something I do, in order to eat. To realise the death, which is carefully hidden in our technical society. To confront this moment, with the total ignoring of the situation you are in, when you cook something, killed in an unknown sphere. The clash between these realities was a big shock.
Part 1: killing a chicken, plucking off the feathers, drawing the innards out, cutting off the feet.
Part 2: preparing a frozen chicken, which is labelled ‘Pucki-Pick’ of the Meadow Farm, for roasting. Washing, spicing, stuffing it with parsley, putting it in a clay pot, exposing it to fire in the oven, until it appears as a dish.