Sensory Knowledge for Changing Landscapes

The Possibility for Situated Environmental Knowledge and Multi-temporalities Through Food and Recipes

Abstract: As climate change swiftly alters landscapes at unprecedented speeds, our cultural amnesia about past ecological states will become more acute. In this essay, I propose material encounters and embodied experiences with food and recipes as critical ways of ‘knowing’ changing landscapes in the Anthropocene. I suggest food-based methods for building alternative forms of knowledge about our changing climate, and I outline how a renewed environmental consciousness in the age of climate collapse can be enhanced from the creation of non-discursive knowledge based in recipes.

Keywords: embodiment, situated knowledge, art research, speculative artwork, climate change, food, environmental change


How does society remember, and how does society forget? What is at stake within the spectrum of mass forgetting, especially at a time of accelerated change? That is, as climate change swiftly alters landscapes at unprecedented speeds, will our cultural amnesia about past ecological states become more acute? The mechanisms behind collective remembering and forgetting are influenced by material encounters in the present and by embodied experiences, often with specific artefacts. I consider forgetting to be an active verb in the present—a companion to the active recall of memories through objects, actions and sudden encounters with familiar sensations.

Encounters with objects shape our remembrance of the past realities that they are entangled with. Their physical form reflects the past—edible plants’ bear the history of cross-breeding, and seeds carry the contours of human migration.1 I argue that food, and especially recipes, are critical ‘artefacts’ of changing landscapes and may even be ways we build alternative forms of knowledge about our changing climate. We are constantly engaged in oscillations of remembering and forgetting in the uncanny encounters of the ongoing ecological calamity we find ourselves in.2 Ultimately, I propose that a renewed environmental consciousness in the age of climate collapse can be enhanced from the creation of non-discursive knowledge based in recipes. I will outline two projects of mine, A Recipe for Potable Water, and a collaborative work, Drought, which demonstrate this notion.

There Is No There There

Memory is reliant, in large part, on a ‘stable system of places’ and on its relationship to the human body.3 We remember details in the context of real places our bodies have been to and within. Our material engagements with the world forge memories, especially through repeated rituals. In his book How Modernity Forgets (2009), Paul Connerton argues that modern society has become dislodged from site-specific memory and embodied, shared acts of remembering via a disruption of the topography of remembering. This occurs, in part, through repeated intentional destruction of the environment (as well as frequent global air travel).4 The near-constant erasure and re-building of both built and natural environments contributes to cultural amnesia by shifting our ability to locate memory within place and to re-experience embodied memories.5

In 2019, I spent time in Plaquemines Parish in southern Louisiana, home to some of Earth’s fastest eroding land. Residents would point to watery areas to show me where there used to be land on which they would play sports or have picnics. My host told me: ‘That used to be hard land, under your feet.’ As the land itself changed, the rituals and activities which took place on the land disappeared, and memories associated with the landscape were fading. Generally speaking, we can no longer go ‘there’ and find a sense of recognition or remembrance if ‘there’ is destroyed, flooded, polluted, torn down, or desertified. We lose our anchors to places when they change over shorter and shorter timespans, depriving us of place-based forms of knowing.

Here, we have an intriguing paradox: memory is often embodied and place-dependent, but places and landscapes are changing more rapidly than ever due to both technology and climate change. This is a reason for renewed attention to the mechanisms for remembering landscapes and ecologies before they change irreparably. While the features of modernity that Connerton points to are a compelling set of factors contributing to acute cultural amnesia, a deeper phenomenon contributes to our loss of place-based memory over time: humans are predisposed to forgetting and have an adeptness for losing track of slow, gradual change over time. We necessarily experience a finite temporal scale, and, as such, understand our environment within a fixed timescale as is only permissible by embodied experience.

Baseline Shifting Syndrome is a term illustrating this phenomenon: humans tend to forget changes that have occurred beyond their own lifetime, setting new baseline definitions of ‘normal’ in their environments with each generation.6 Humans gradually accommodate a creeping disappearance of ecological losses, allowing the definition of ‘normal’ in terms of levels of animals, plants, wild edibles, or pollution, for example, drifts over time.7,8 When children are born into an environment that lacks native flowers or already contains polluted air, they will accept that as ‘normal.’9 And even as it worsens slowly over time, they may keep adjusting to each new, slightly more degraded normal.

In a pattern of long-term amnesia, people experience knowledge extinction in relation to their environment, losing awareness of major biological and ecological shifts.10 Both imagination and careful science are required to bring back ‘ghosts’ of past ecological states, like a forgotten native species of fish or the flavour from an extinct plant.11 A potent example of this comes from, perhaps, a frivolous source: banana-flavoured candies. Most banana-flavoured candy tastes curiously different from the flavour of actual bananas—a gap most people attribute to artificial flavouring. In fact, the flavour that we don’t recognise is based on the taste of an extinct banana. The Gros Michel banana variety dominated global banana production up until the mid-1900s,12 and its taste was most closely associated with artificial banana flavouring developed in the early 1900s. However, the Gros Michel fell victim to a soil fungus in the 1950s, and the Cavendish banana replaced it as the world’s primary mono-cropped banana. We are left with the ghost of the Gros Michel in artificially flavoured banana candies. When we eat them now, our embodied experience of taste is, in fact, a form of ‘knowing’ related to the realities of global food systems, and about the vulnerabilities of monocropping.

Extinct Aromatorium, plexiglass, perfume of banana, dirt, and fungus, 2022

Eating as Knowing

Embodied encounters with taste can impart knowledge about ecologies, including complex eco-agricultural landscapes, in both past and present forms. They could also act as markers for accelerated change to the environment and tools for sensing impacts to a shifting world. The sensuality of food—the depth of its interactions with one’s sensory experience—has given it a profound reputation for being a compelling medium for memory,13 and, I would argue, for a collective memory. The chemical senses provide a direct route to both forming and accessing memories,14 meaning that they can play a substantial role beyond just personal memory and into ecological memory. We have all craved a food for its nostalgic associations; we have all desired a dish that is so intimately tied to the climate of one country that we must travel for it. Taste is tied to both time and space in evocative ways, and as such, it becomes an embodied vehicle for connecting to place—through personal or shared memories, through agricultural connections, or through ecological entanglements.

Beyond its connection to memory, food deserves a renewed consideration for its role in epistemology and embodied cognition. Taste and smell allow us access to landscapes and environments in part because they are a medium capable of forming embodied cognition. The chemical senses have a cognitive dimension that is often overlooked15 and act as meaningful sites through which to acquire knowledge about the world. Eating represents a kind of ‘knowing’ that is not simply inherent to a natural body perceiving the world around itself but that arises from interaction with parts of the world in a sensory capacity.16

While the senses of sight and hearing have been hierarchically considered more valuable in terms of epistemology in the West, taste and smell can provide insight regarding the vitality of matter, its connections to the natural world, and the eater’s relationality with other entities, human and non.17,18 Material and sensory encounters are lived experiences, as opposed to intellectual abstractions, and such embodied cognition relays information about the environmental context of our food and about landscapes that may have produced tastes and smells as they change. This, ultimately, is a kind of bodily interaction that actually occurs within the body, and not just on its surface—you are processing the landscape with your body.

Responses to taste and smell are of a specific type and differ from the responses to visual stimuli—they are more powerful at eliciting physiological and behavioural responses, but they rarely induce complex thoughts that can be verbalised.19 This, in fact, may be part of their benefit: we should embrace partial and sensorial knowledge as part of ‘knowing.’ This is the basis of Donna Haraway’s defence of situated knowledge, in which ‘the alternative to relativism is partial, locatable, critical knowledges sustaining the possibility of webs of connections called solidarity in politics and shared conversations in epistemology.’20 The situated, embodied, and partial knowledges we acquire through taste, smell, and material engagements with food and beverages are, in fact, deeply necessary for providing more sustained and transforming accounts of the world.21 Thus, I argue that consumption becomes a way to elevate emotion and embodiment in scientific discourse around changing ecologies.22

Drought

‘Drought,’ digital photographs, 2019  Photograph by Heami Lee  Food + recipes by Victoria Granof, styling by Rebecca Bartoshesky, concept + art direction by Allie Wist

In many of my artworks, I seek to invoke this power of food and taste to unfold realities around ecological change. Performance studies scholar Barbara Kirshemblatt-Gimlet is well known for her writing on the value of food as a conceptual medium in art, stating that ‘the materiality of food, its dynamic and unstable character, its relationship to the body, and its importance to community, make food a powerful medium.’23 In Drought (2018), a collaboration with Heami Lee, Rebecca Bartosheksy, and Victoria Granof, we lean on this potential for food as a medium to unspool future ecological realities through recipes. Ash-cooked root vegetables speak to the presence of increased wildfires and the need for hearty crops that can withstand environmental distress; pomegranate wine reflects the need for drought-tolerant ingredients in the beverage industry; buckwheat and sorghum bread reveal a critique of the monocropping of wheat and the perilous future it activates for both humans and non.

Crickets and mealworms are included in recipes by Granof for crackers and toffee as a gesture towards the pressures of animal protein on the environment—a staggeringly large contributor to global greenhouse emissions. Global protein consumption could hit a crisis point, and yet many countries around the world are actually increasing their meat consumption. Insects could provide more protein to more people with substantially less environmental impact than other types of meat. They are amazingly efficient at converting energy into protein and farming them uses less water and land. The challenge is that most Western eaters don’t view insects as edible and don’t see sorghum or pomegranate wine as desirable; there is still a gap in connecting their consumption to what seem like distant ecological crises. But as the baseline shifts for what we must take as ‘normal’ both in our environment and in our food culture, these future artefacts may shimmer into reality. The images by Lee in this series embody the hard-to-see quality of ecological existence and the feeling of having to peer into the shadows of what we don’t yet embody.

The recipes and foods in this series speak to the vitality of edibles as (non-human) bodies that become ‘quasi-agents’ and ‘forces with trajectories, propensities or tendencies of their own,’ as Jane Bennett describes in her writing on materiality.24 By engaging with foods that are imperative to our ability to adapt to the desertification of arid farming regions in a warmer climate, we must accept the many mutual transformations we will engage with over the next 50 years. Bennett emphasises that ‘eating constitutes a series of mutual transformations between human and nonhuman materials,’ and ‘edibles disclose, in short, what Deleuze and Guattari called a certain “vagabond” quality to materiality, a propensity for continuous variation that is elided by “all the stories of matter-form”.’25 Food becomes agential not just in activating complex assemblages—politics, labour, government regulations, antibiotic use, pastures, fields, histories of genetic modification, global trade—but also in its dynamic state-change upon ingestion. Food makes the border between ‘inside’ and ‘outside’ blurry,26 which can help actually bring us closer to ecologies otherwise considered ‘over there’ or not relevant to our lives and bodies.

A Recipe for Potable Water

Food’s power as a vibrant material extension from the past and into the future, as I have suggested, is due in part to its ephemerality. That is, it requires repetition through time. Food is remade over and over again through recipes and traditions, re-engaging its entanglements and mutuality on a continual basis. Embodiment forges connections to places that are then inscribed onto the body.27 Certainly, the embodied acts of farming, cooking, preserving, eating, and dining all have the power to inscribe memory through repetition over time. In many cases, these are directly related to places, both cultural and ecological. The connection of agriculture and foodways to the climate and environment are codified in recipes that can engage multi-temporalities. We may even invoke feminist scholar Karen Barad’s notions of diffractive time. Making a recipe ‘actually is the making of temporality … time is articulated and re-synchronized through various material practices,’28 including foodways.

Recipes are edible performances that, I suggest, provide a pathway to forge connections to ecology.29 Recipes themselves are performances—scripts—written as ways to interact with the food system. They can function as artefacts for future ways of knowing and being that are entangled with ecological realities. As repeated actions, they can concretise connections to place through time.

It is this format—the culture-making and repetitive script of recipes—that I chose for an extension of my work on food into sculptural material. A Recipe for Potable Water (2017) is a future artefact that represents a new ‘normal’ recipe—a shifted baseline for what people will accept as normal within a new climate, in a speculative application of Baseline Shifting Syndrome. The piece itself is a DIY method for desalinating water for cooking and drinking, the necessity of which could arise in a future of increased, normalised natural ‘disasters’ and impacts on access to potable water. Sea level rise and increased flooding will affect access to potable drinking water in multiple ways: saltwater can flood and contaminate fresh drinking water sources, and extreme weather events may damage the infrastructure to transport and deliver fresh water periodically.

The mechanics of the device are simple (and are often used in grade school classrooms to illustrate to children the differences between salt and freshwater). The saltwater (or ocean water) is poured into the exterior bowl. A heavy interior bowl is placed in the centre, and both are covered with saran wrap. A weight is placed in the centre of the plastic to create a sloped surface. The device is meant to be placed in the sun, causing the saltwater to evaporate. The water will condense on the saran wrap at the top, and leave the salt behind. The condensed fresh water slides towards the centre and collects in the smaller bowl below. The piece is built from material artefacts which carry their own agency: depression glass and found materials from the Rockaways and Red Hook in New York City, which were badly damaged by Hurricane Sandy in 2012.

The use of familiar and familial material culture speaks to the necessity of addressing climate change in our daily lives, as well as the limitations of technological solutions to unforeseen eco-disasters. It suggests the possibility of passing down the device through generations, as one might a family recipe. The material culture invoked through the use of such glassware and detritus engages the vibrant potential of the device itself to become an assemblage with its own agency and its own story. An object in the present weaves entanglements with future crises, allowing for a re-making of current eco-awareness.

This piece was both about repetition (the recipe as a script) and also about the impossibility of such repetition. The device is tedious and incredibly time-consuming, and would be nearly impossible to use as a method for sustained, long-term water security. Desalinating water at home would never be a truly reliable way to secure potable water over and over again, and, in fact, I wanted that feeling of precariousness and unreliability. This recipe engages future ecological realities, in part, by becoming a symbol of the sheer helplessness we experience in the face of a climate disaster.

At an exhibition with HESSE FLATOW in Amagansett, New York, which included A Recipe for Potable Water, I also chose to serve desalinated water to guests at an exhibition dinner as an aperitif. I experienced the difficulty and lack of viability of the device, and embodied the recipe over and over again to create enough desalinated water for 30 diners. The precious few cups of freshwater I made carried the weight of my labour. The curator and I noticed a distinct taste of the ‘aperitif’ that I can only describe as empty or hollow—it had gone through something unfamiliar, and while no one could quite put their finger on the difference, it was certainly not the taste of tap water. I found the taste of the water itself took on many of the qualities I wanted to impart, and in its lacking, it conveyed loss, nostalgia, forgetfulness, and change. All three components of the work—the device, the recipe, and the taste of the water itself—activated awareness of ecological realities beyond one’s lived experience. It created a template for embodied knowledge that moves us beyond data on sea-level rise and environmental impact. In an age of rapidly changing ecological imperatives, this piece allows us an embodied and emotional connection to the environment.

‘Recipe for Potable Water,’ glass, asphalt, seawater, saran wrap, 2017 Photo courtesy of the Wellcome Collection

What is at stake within collective environmental amnesia? Certainly, the loss of knowledge of landscapes not-yet-destroyed and environmental crisis not-yet-normalised. Knowledge extinction30 in our ecological consciousness is pervasive and will inevitably extend into the future. However, the potential damage is significant, and as we face a climate crisis and the Sixth Mass Extinction, it is imperative to look at how we forget, and how our relationship to the natural world changes over time. Perhaps we also stand to lose the ability to engage with alternative realities through a material and embodied present. Without aiming for a faux nostalgia, and with acceptance of the world as it manifests in our wake, we must address mankind’s deep entanglement within landscapes. We can do this here and now, by being ecological in our sensory experiences. That is, we are all already ecological by engaging with nonhumans, with our senses.31 I have proposed here that connections to changing ecological realities can be made more vibrant from the creation of non-discursive knowledge based in food, and that speculative embodiments with food and recipes provide multi-temporal artefacts for a future climate.

Allie E.S. Wist

Allie E.S. Wist is an artist-scholar, currently working on a PhD at the Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, who focuses on sensory futures, food, and the Anthropocene. Her work encompasses photography, radio broadcasts, artefacts, dinners, and writing that render timescales and futuristic speculation accessible through material and sensory narratives. She looks at the role of food, taste and smell in our perception of multi-temporalities and multi-species communities. She has an M.A. in Food Studies from New York University and a B.A. in Media from Boston University and has worked in food media for over a decade. Her artwork has been exhibited with Honolulu Biennial, The Wellcome Collection, and HESSE FLATOW, and she has taught at NYU and The New School.

Bibliography

Bibliography

  • Barad, Karen, ‘Matter Feels, Converses, Suffers, Desires, Yearns and Remembers.’ New Materialism: Interviews and Cartographies (2012).
  • Bennett, Jane, Vibrant Matter. Durham, North Carolina: Duke University Press Books, 2010.
  • Bromley, Ryan, ‘The Chemical Senses in Art: Thinking Beyond Aesthetics.’ Performance Research 22, no. 7 (2017): pp. 109–18.
  • Connerton, Paul. How Societies Remember. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989.
  • ———, How Modernity Forgets. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009.
  • Grosz, Elizabeth, Volatile Bodies: Toward a Corporeal Feminism. Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1994.
  • Hahn, Tomie, Arousing Sense: Recipes for Workshopping Sensory Experience. Champaign, Illinois: University of Illinois Press, 2021.
  • Haraway, Donna, ‘Situated Knowledges: The Science Question in Feminism and the Privilege of Partial Perspective.’ Feminist Studies 14, no. 3 (1988): pp. 575–99.
  • Holtzman, Jon D, ‘Food and Memory.’ Annual Review Anthropology 35 (2006): pp. 361–78.
  • Howes, David, and Constance Classen, Ways of Sensing. New York: Routledge, 2013.
  • Humphries, Paul, and Kirk O. Winemiller, ‘Historical Impacts on River Fauna, Shifting Baselines, and Challenges for Restoration.’ BioScience 59, no. 8 (2009): 673–84.
  • Kahn Jr, Peter H., ‘Children’s Affiliations with Nature: Structure, Development, and the Problem of Environmental Generational Amnesia.’ In Children and Nature: Psychological, Sociocultural, and Evolutionary Investigations. Edited by Peter H. Kahn Jr. and Stephen R. Kellert, pp. 93–116. Cambridge: MIT press, 2002.
  • Kelly, Lynne, The Memory Code. New York: Simon and Schuster, 2017.
  • Kirshenblatt-Gimblett, Barbara, ‘Playing to the Senses: Food as a Performance Medium.’ Performance Research 4, no. 1 (1999): pp. 1–30.
  • Korsmeyer, Carolyn, Making Sense of Taste. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 2014.
  • Levent, Nina, and Alvaro Pascual-Leone, The Multisensory Museum. Maryland: Rowman & Littlefield, 2014.
  • Lotze, Heike K., and Boris Worm, ‘Historical Baselines for Large Marine Animals.’ Trends in Ecology & Evolution 24, no. 5 (2009): pp. 254–62.
  • MacKinnon, James Bernard, The Once and Future World. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2013.
  • McClenachan, Loren, ‘Documenting Loss of Large Trophy Fish from the Florida Keys With Historical Photographs.’ Conservation Biology 23, no. 3 (2009): pp. 636–43.
  • MacKinnon, James, The Once and Future World. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2013.
  • Mol, Annemarie, Eating in Theory. Durham: Duke University Press, 2021.
  • Morton, Timothy, All Art is Ecological. London: Penguin UK, 2021.
  • Parker, Ingrid, ‘Remembering in Our Amnesia, Seeing in Our Blindness.’ In Arts of Living on a Damaged Planet. Edited by Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing, Nils Bubandt, Elaine Gan, and Heather Anne Swanson, pp. 155–67. Minnesota: University of Minnesota Press, 2017.
  • Pauly, Daniel, ‘Anecdotes and the Shifting Baseline Syndrome of Fisheries.’ Trends in Ecology & Evolution 19, no. 4 (1995).
  • Pearce, Fred, ‘Going Bananas.’ New Scientist 177, no. 2378 (2003).
  • ———, ‘The Sterile Banana.’ Conservation Magazine 9, no. 4 (2008).
  • Tuck, Eve, and Marcia McKenzie, Place in Research: Theory, Methodology, and Methods. New York: Routledge, 2015.
References
↑ 1

Beatriz Cortez, ‘The Memory of Plants: Genetics, Migration, and the Construction of the Future,’ in Timescales: Thinking Across Ecological Temporalities, ed. Bethany Wiggin et al. (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2020).

↑ 2

Timothy Morton, All Art is Ecological (New York: Penguin Books, 2021), p. 2.

↑ 3

Paul Connerton provides a conceptual explanation of this phenomenon in How Modernity Forgets (2009), while Lynne Kelly provides a foundational set of case studies across cultures and through time. This concept can be traced to the ancient Greek notion of loci, a memory device based on place, and has been updated and expanded upon in recent indigenous and BIPOC scholarship. See: Paul Connerton, How Modernity Forgets (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), p. 5; Lynne Kelly, The Memory Code (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2017); and Eve Tuck and Marcia McKenzie, Place in Research: Theory, Methodology, and Methods (New York: Routledge, 2015).

↑ 4

Connerton 2009, p. 99.

↑ 5

Ibid.

↑ 6

Studies by Daniel Pauly and Loren McClenachan are notable as exceptional scientific examples of baseline shifting phenomenon, a term coined by Pauly himself. MacKinnon extends this concept to an environmental humanities context. See Daniel Pauly, ‘Anecdotes and the Shifting Baseline Syndrome of Fisheries,’ Trends in Ecology & Evolution 19, no. 4 (1995): p. 430 and Loren McClenachan, ‘Documenting Loss of Large Trophy Fish from the Florida Keys with Historical Photographs,’ Conservation Biology 23, no. 3 (2009). For a broader discussion, see also James MacKinnon, The Once and Future World (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2013).

↑ 7

MacKinnon 2013, p. 7.

↑ 8

For an additional example related to animals, see Heike K Lotze, and Boris Worm, ‘Historical Baselines for Large Marine Animals,’ Trends in Ecology & Evolution 24, no. 5 (2009).

↑ 9

For studies regarding levels of degradation or pollution, see Peter H Kahn Jr, ‘Children’s Affiliations With Nature: Structure, Development, and the Problem of Environmental Generational Amnesia,’ in Children and Nature: Psychological, Sociocultural, and Evolutionary Investigations (Cambridge: MIT press, 2002).

↑ 10

Ibid.

↑ 11

Ingrid Parker, ‘Remembering in Our Amnesia, Seeing in Our Blindness,’ in Arts of Living on a Damaged Planet, ed. Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing et al. (Minnesota: University of Minnesota Press, 2017), p. 164.

↑ 12

Fred Pearce, ‘The Sterile Banana,’ Conservation Magazine 9, no. 4 (2008).

↑ 13

Jon D Holtzman, ‘Food and Memory,’ Annual Review Anthropology 35 (2006), p. 365.

↑ 14

Ryan Bromley, ‘The Chemical Senses in Art: Thinking Beyond Aesthetics,’ Performance Research 22, no. 7 (2017).

↑ 15

Carolyn Korsmeyer, Making Sense of Taste (Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 2014), p. 4.

↑ 16

Annemarie Mol, Eating in Theory (Durham: Duke University Press, 2021), p. 61.

↑ 17

Mol 2021, p. 55.

↑ 18

David Howes and Constance Classen, ‘Introduction: Ways and Meanings,’ in Ways of Sensing (New York: Routledge, 2013), p. 7.

↑ 19

Nina Levent and Alvaro Pascual-Leone, The Multisensory Museum (Maryland: Rowman & Littlefield, 2014).

↑ 20

Donna Haraway, ‘Situated Knowledges: The Science Question in Feminism and the Privilege of Partial Perspective,’ Feminist Studies 14, no. 3 (1988), p. 584. See also: Elizabeth Grosz, Volatile Bodies: Toward a Corporeal Feminism (Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1994).

↑ 21

Haraway 1988, p. 584.

↑ 22

Ibid.

↑ 23

Barbara Kirshenblatt-Gimblett, ‘Playing to the Senses: Food as a Performance Medium,’ Performance Research 4, no. 1 (1999).

↑ 24

Jane Bennett, Vibrant Matter (Durham, North Carolina: Duke University Press Books, 2010), p. viii.

↑ 25

Bennett 2010, p. 40 and p. 50.

↑ 26

Bennett 2010, p. 49.

↑ 27

Paul Connerton, How Societies Remember (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), pp. 70-71.

↑ 28

Karen Barad, ‘Matter Feels, Converses, Suffers, Desires, Yearns and Remembers,’ New Materialism: Interviews and Cartographies (2012), p. 15.

↑ 29

For further reading on recipes as scripts or scores, see Tomie Hahn, Arousing Sense: Recipes for Workshopping Sensory Experience (Champaign, Illinois: University of Illinois Press, 2021).

↑ 30

MacKinnon 2013, p. 7.

↑ 31

This idea stems from Timothy Morton’s writing on ‘being ecological.’ See: Timothy Morton, All Art is Ecological (2021).