For the love of food

My route from still life to food photographer was born of a book on health and beauty I shot for Vogue that happened to contain a few recipes. 

The publisher, Octopus, was at the start of a tsunami of illustrated cookery titles as, simultaneously, editorial magazine commissions blossomed. I greedily hopped onto the bandwagon. What a journey of evolving aesthetics it has been; fascinating, and subsequently informing my career as a food director. 

What a journey of evolving aesthetics it has been, fascinating and subsequently informing my career as a food director. 

Creating food commercials continues to afford me an unusual amount of artistic autonomy. The scale of the work is usually contained, from teaspoon to table-top, whilst often the performance of the food is literally in my hands. Years of stills has also meant I have a need to light most projects that I film, a rarity amongst directors. Consequently, there’s a myriad of subjective decisions before the lens to create that slice of reality to be captured on film. 

But what exactly informs such choices?

Above: Stebbings used his directorial skills to bring Guinness to life.

Appetite appeal 

Increasingly, I have learnt that to engage the viewer’s eye, beauty alone is not enough. A natural realism underpins the more gratifying images, ideally capturing visceral moments that engage with our subconscious. Breathe in the waft of steam as a golden pie crust is broken open, or sense the yielding texture of a perfectly flaked cod filet coated in brittle beer batter. In glorious close-up, shards of batter shatter on the initial impact of glinting tines. Watching it, the brain can conjure the textures of each mouthful, and crave.

Each revealing differing qualities of the subject that might ooze or crack, melt or steam (courtesy of a microwaved tampon snuck behind).

Stimuli 

There is a litany of expressions that chime in every pre-production meeting… grabbable, lick the screen, juices flowing, drool. In a word, well, in two; ‘Food Porn’. After all, the audience today has a very educated eye, snapping food on Instagram, and it's hard to turn heads. So, through intense attention to detail and dramatising texture and colour, perhaps we are creating those ‘supernormal stimuli’ known to trigger a stronger response, alerting viewers' perceptions of how good it might taste.

At a practical level, I often create opportunities for ‘happy accidents’ to energise the frame. A pour of cream dislodges the intentionally precarious plum on the pudding, it tumbles, and the shot is bagged. I immediately add more cream to emerge from behind the pudding’s edge, make a crumb of crumble calve and crash onto the plate elsewhere in the frame.  

Such moments are then seamlessly synchronised in the edit. The resulting sequence is dotted with actions, each revealing differing qualities of the subject that might ooze or crack, melt or steam (courtesy of a microwaved tampon snuck behind). Another consideration might be the choreography of falling ingredients, a few extra pomegranate seeds glint like rubies when tossed into a wintry landscape of soft folds of yoghurt. Retimed and speed-ramped in the edit, the seeds synch with the rhythm of a music track.

Above: Charlie Stebbings on set.

Warts’n all 

However, such artifice or an attempt to be perfect must not be at the expense the food’s natural realism, as here lies its true appetite appeal. Making food do the unnatural, however clever or gravity defying, invariably detracts from such a vital connection. It may be eye catching in the moment but seldom lingers on the palate! Early years shooting stills with Nigel Slater taught me that warts and all convey the necessary visceral response to what we see and hanker after - the crusty melt of cheese on the rim of a baking dish, the burnt edges on a grilled squid or seared peppers.

At that time, for Sainsbury’s, Jamie Oliver was wielding his vivacious personality on TV, a bish-bash-bosh cutty campaign. So, why not do the exact opposite?

A new look 

Originality is prized amongst directors, and how to skin all too familiar cats another way is the tastiest challenge of all. Just occasionally a script throws open a door to true innovation, the Holy Grail. Now the fun really kicks in, if tinged with a fear of squandering such a rare opportunity to make one’s mark! 

The most memorable example was M&S. Paul Angus and Ted Heath, then at RKCR Y&R, had written the immortal lines, ‘This is not just a… this is an M&S… ’. However, the look of the campaign was still up for grabs. Extraordinarily, they approached a few international directors asking what we might do? Wow! M&S was an aspirational brand for whom I had filmed a campaign previously. I knew their food was good, they simply wanted to be distinctive. At that time, for Sainsbury’s, Jamie Oliver was wielding his vivacious personality on TV, in a bish-bash-bosh, cutty campaign. So, why not do the exact opposite? Let the food speak for itself. My maxim was, ‘If it looks that good, that close-up, then it must be good’.

Above: Charlie Stebbings' original 2004 spot for the now famous 'This is not just'... campaign for Marks & Spencer.

Then… 

I had an inkling of how difficult it would be to film, invariably at breathless frame rates whilst keen to pull deep focus. Sharp detail is needed to draw in the eye, oblige it to wander as slow-motion, edible acrobats tumble across frame or a fork tantalisingly breaks through the legendary Belgian Melt in the Middle Chocolate Pudding, devilishly oozing with temptation. 

Uneasy nights resolved early the next morning in the tantric satisfaction of rushes, that exquisite feeling of ‘Yes! Got it!’

I was always mindful that such scrutiny could feel forensic unless lit with subtlety. Back then things were noisy; the roar of a 1,000ft mag of film, two or three 12K lights bearing down on a toss of delicate salad leaves, the crescendo of ‘Roll camera… Lights… Speed... Action!’ prompting hasty dexterity before the hairs on the back of my hands shrivelled under the ferocious heat! ‘CUT!!’.  

It was intense and exciting, though video playback was not informative at such high speeds. Uneasy nights resolved early the next morning in the tantric satisfaction of rushes, that exquisite feeling of ‘Yes! Got it!’ as pleasing details revealed themselves over the luxury of an eight second shot! Today’s hi-res digital playback, whilst reassuring, fails to deliver quite the same buzz, mere instant gratification after a genteel, ‘Cut’.

Of course, so much of what I film is enhanced through close relationships developed with great food stylists, in particular the legendary Pete Smith, who has sadly hung up his apron. Fortunately, his legacy of wonderful apprentices have gone on to cut the mustard.