Peter Handke and Mladen Materic interrogate this rather special place, both everyday and fantastical, as existential a place as any, "where through everyday effort, life is maintained", both sharing the same visions: great myths are inscribed in our everyday gestures.

Often when I'm in the kitchen, I realise that I'm looking for something, but I don't know what. Kitchen of the rich becomes kitchen of the poor, and vice versa.

My mother told me that the retarded daughter of a neighbour became that way because, being a cry-baby when small, her
mother put her on the burning stove in the kitchen to make her be quiet.

The Greek philosopher Heraclitus, 6th century BC, used to say to strangers who went into his house (or hut), as he directed (invited) them towards the fireplace (oven), "Come (enter), the gods live here too!"

The kitchen's great moments occur when there is no-one there, only objects, fruit, vegetables, the passing light, the changing colours, the cries of the birds which fly in, the planes which drop bombs … (still life living quivering - gives the rhythm of the room, after each series of events).

Animals in the kitchen - dead and alive (even a bear? a monkey?).

Christmas and the kitchen, Easter! and the kitchen, the seasons and the kitchen (the kitchen in autumn!).


A philosophical dialogue between two cooks in a kitchen, a "philosophy of leftovers", (as for me, I dream of a master-chef, an expert in heavenly leftovers, a Michelin 4-star, not a cheat like the 3-star chefs who cheat on the freshness of their dishes!).

Kitchen songs: Ballad/Blues/Folksong (not Joan Baez!); kitchen dance.

Kitchen and death/kitchen and birth/kitchen and writing; between dead rabbit, cabbage, apples: a Gypsy trumpet.