New Zealand born and bred, New York-based photographer and food stylist Henry Hargreaves tells Sarah Murray about how he became an ‘eatologist’
Every kid is told not to play with their food, but Kiwi photographer and food stylist Henry Hargreaves has literally carved a career out of it. When I speak to Hargreaves, 38, he's in his Williamsburg studio, about a 10-minute walk from where he lives in New York. It's almost summer so he's cracked the windows open, and you can hear the truck drivers leaning on their horns as they speed past the predominately industrial area. He's here most days, and right now is in the middle of shooting some fortune cookies with sayings from President Trump inside.
"They're the misguided fortunes of the nation," he says dryly. "I read a little bit up on the story of fortune cookies and they're actually an American invention of a Chinese ritual. I thought this was fitting for these Trumpian sayings, where the fortune cookie is just like everything that is fake and artificial with America. And the fact that they are orange as well, to me, was like Donald Trump. For the viewer I'm just trying to do something fun. For me it's a moment to have a bit of comedy with the surreal world of American politics."
While calling him a food photographer broadly sums him up, it would be more accurate to add eatologist (a sort of sociologist of food) and visual storyteller to the mix. Hargreaves has created several series of visually arresting and thought-provoking photographs — all made from something everyone can relate to: food. It's this knack for conveying complicated messages in a simple way that has not only gained him critical attention, but has set the internet aflutter. His series Food of the Rainbow, which showcased burgers, pancakes and pasta in rainbow-bright coloured hues was ranked number six in the Top Ten Most Viral Web Content in 2012. Past creations include faces of American presidents made from Jell-O, gingerbread art galleries, and maps of the world made solely from food. And while some projects may sound like they're straight out of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, most have a message, some erring on the darker side. Take his 2016 series A Year of Killing (a sequel to earlier work No Seconds) where he recreated the last meals served to all the inmates who were executed in America that year. The series featured recognisable images of what looked like everyday food; steak and a baked potato, a pizza, two Reese's cups and a Dr Pepper, but in context it's uncomfortable viewing. That's the point.
"I read about the meals and for the first time they became real people and humanised. The reality of this ritual came to life so I wanted to recreate it visually," he says. "I think that you're never going to be able to tackle a whole thing or do justice to the issue so I pick a small battle and focus on that. When you try and do too much you bore people and no one is interested. But when you tell a very simple, small truth on a subject then it can be a really compelling and make people think," he says.
Victor Feguer from Henry Hargreaves' series, No Seconds. Photo / Supplied
The reaction of the last supper meals was mixed. Some heralded it as powerful, while others saw it as glorifying the inmates. Despite this, it wasn't the death row meals that have courted the most controversy but his Food Map series, which saw edible maps made out of food synonymous with that country. But some weren't happy with how their country was (or, in some cases, wasn't) represented.
"You forget how seriously people take maps, and you forget that we see everything through the Western world of where the borders are. So for instance, in China I left Taiwan off the map as we don't see that being part of China in the West, but they do," he says. "I got so many people from China writing to me saying how ignorant I was and how insulted they were," he says. "Also with India there are quite a few disputed regions and again I did the Indian map based on what it is if you search from an American search engine. People got really wound up about that."
Growing up in Christchurch, Hargreaves worked for a catering company doing weddings and events before he became old enough to work at his local Lone Star. He was always interested in photography, taking it as a subject at school, where he learnt about the basic principles of shutter speed and aperture, but never considered it a career until much later.
Hargreaves' Fortune Cookies series. Photo / Supplied
"The only photographers I knew who did it for a living did weddings and school portraits and stuff like that. Anyone who did it as an artist was a school teacher. So I'd never seen a commercial photographer and didn't realise that career existed."
That all changed when, at 21, Hargreaves went on his OE after finishing his BA in film and American studies at the University of Canterbury. With an androgynous, wiry look he was scouted as a model while backpacking around Thailand and soon found himself thrust on to the world stage — walking in fashion shows for some of the biggest names in the business like Gucci, Marc Jacobs and Hugo Boss to name a few. From there he was chosen to star in various campaigns including Givenchy and Prada, and it was then he witnessed up close how you could make it as a photographer.
"I was like 'whoa, these guys have an awesome life, and it's creative and they're making something.' And I thought, 'I want to be like that.'"
While learning the photography trade, he also tended bars, first in London, then moving to New York to work in a restaurant called Schiller's on the Lower East Side as a waiter, bar tender and maitre d'. During that time the photographer became interested in what people ordered and began to see firsthand how food connected them.
Henry Hargreaves and Caitlin Levin's New Zealand from the Food Maps series. Photo / Supplied
"In the States, people eat at bars at lot of the time. And also because of the tipping culture here you're really incentivised to work as fast as you can. You start to profile people as they approach the bar, and say, 'Okay this person looks like they'll drink a beer.' Three out of four times, your assumptions are right. And when they'd sit down, the way people would modify their order or specify how they wanted it, would reveal so many things of their character. There was that connection of how personal food is, and their character kind of came out in the way they interact with food."
Hargreaves had found his niche. But aside from his observations, he started moving towards food photography, simply because those were the first jobs he was asked to do. And they paid. "I was working in a restaurant and trying to take pictures and people would say, 'Hey, we need pictures for our website or for a promotion.' It just kind of happened."
Some of the connections he made at the restaurants he worked at in New York have stuck. Many of his projects are in collaboration with food stylist Caitlin Levin, who used to drink rosé where he worked. And he's now a financial partner in a number of establishments in the city with people he used to work with — notably Jack's Wife Freda, St Mazie, and Butler cafe. "I'd done the property and share portfolios and got no joy out of it. So I thought I'd invest in something I could go and enjoy and be part of helping someone bring their dream alive. That's why I got involved."
Henry Hargreaves doesn't label himself a foodie, calling those who do, "the armchair athletes of the food world". Photo / Supplied
It isn't all food for thought, so to speak. To pay the bills Hargreaves still takes on commercial work. He shot the original imagery for Kiwi wool shoe company All Birds and this week alone has been shooting a baby lotion campaign and something for lingerie brand Victoria's Secret. Past clients range from a sex toy company to a tampon company, to pasta.
Funnily enough, although food is clearly a muse, Hargreaves doesn't label himself a foodie, calling those who do, "the armchair athletes of the food world". In his cupboards you won't find much more than cereal, yogurt and some chocolate. But he does like food, particularly the rituals around it and eats out a lot. Most mornings on his way to work he'll grab a pastry and a drip coffee for his local cafe — all his years in America has meant he can no longer stomach a flat white. At night he's out either discovering new haunts or frequenting old favourites, only cooking at home if he has guests coming over, though he does host themed dinner parties at his studio every few months.
Henry Hargreaves and Caitlin Levin's Guggenheim, from their series Gingerbread and Candy Art Galleries. Photo / Supplied
"The next one I'm doing is based on the shopping list by the artist Michelangelo. He gave his assistant a shopping list but his assistant couldn't read so he drew the shopping list. We don't know exactly what meals he ate but we know what they bought, so this is what we're going to cook."
Hargreaves will be here in August for the food festival Wellington on a Plate, where he's working on a project based around the iconic Australian Women's Weekly birthday cake cookbook. And in the meantime he will keep doing what he's doing, constantly pushing himself to do more. "Everyone has an idea but there are very few people who can bring them to life. I struggle with that every day to keep motivated, to actually do what I'm talking about and not just spin the wheel," he says. "I don't spend too much time thinking about what I've done. I always try to focus on the next thing. I see my value as the next project, not the last."
