The Good Fish

This image of the catfish I blipped yesterday caught my imagination somehow. I saw him alive in the tank at the market and I saw him killed and cleaned by the fish man. For supper tonight I cut clumsy fillets and left skin on them. The good fish provided a large and very good meal for me, for my housemate, and for her baby daughter. I still have his head and bones to cook down into a stock.

This image reminds me of when I was a visiting student in Rome, Italy in the 1980s. Most of the others were studying the Fine Arts and there always seemed to be lurid still life paintings and bright foods in preparation, whichever way one looked. Before that year I had never seen a proper food market where farmers sold their goods. I would take pictures of the fishes and slaughtered beasts, even though photography was so expensive then. I was amazed.

This good fish was clumsily carved and unevenly cooked by this devourer, but not without respect and appreciation. I suppose it sounds a bit corny, but it is what I'm thinking.