MAKOTO KAGOSHIMA

I believe certain objects can bring special meaning into our lives. I am particularly fond of objects that are thoughtfully designed and made by people, as they offer an experience of customs, rituals, places, inventions and ideas. In my life, the search for, and the presentation of, beautiful objects has inspired me to travel the world to learn more about their origins and their makers. These kinds of creations have both introduced me to new and distant peoples as well as so many places that have even deepened my understanding of familiar cultures. They have truly been instrumental in expanding my mind, heart and creativity. After all, we are all physical beings, and there is much comfort and enrichment in living with such unique artifacts.

 

Private collection,© Chariots on Fire Collection Photo by Shuji Yoshida

 

I will never forget one particular trip to Fukuoka, Japan, when I met Makoto Kagoshima and asked him to exhibit his work for the first time in America at my store, Chariots on Fire, in Venice, California. My fascination with Makoto started with the discovery of an unforgettable piece—a simple arrangement of flowers drawn on a simple ceramic plate. It evoked so much excitement inside me; it felt familiar but at the same time mysterious. I could not quite put my finger on its origin, but the sense of joy and happiness it brought me at that particular time in my life was quite extraordinary, and I wanted to share that feeling with others immediately.

 

Private collection,© Chariots on Fire Collection Photo by Shuji Yoshida

 

Perhaps Makoto’s charming plant motifs excited the amateur gardener in me, as I love to grow roses, or perhaps they reminded me of my father’s vast collection of plant specimens, carefully preserved in apothecary jars. But they evoked so much thought: “When was this object made? Is it new? Is it old? Where was it made? How? What kind of person creates such a wide range of objects?” Questions like these spark my curiosity and often lead to the hunt. In Makoto’s case, to my surprise, this beautiful object brought me back to Japan, my place of birth. I was thrilled because, growing up in the States, I always wished to find and work with a Japanese maker whose work I loved and could introduce outside of Japan.

 

Private collection,© Chariots on Fire Collection Photo by Shuji Yoshida

 

What is so wonderful about Makoto’s ceramics is that they are a product of his vivid and very wild imagination. He has created a visual language that is uniquely his own. Just examine the breadth of his one-of-a-kind ceramics and you may come to deeply admire the details, individually imagined and marked with his own hands, the intricate etchings and vibrant play of colors with natural pigments. Makoto often works at night in his quiet home studio, tucked away from the organized chaos of the city noise but not too far, somewhere on a hilltop in the southern island of Japan he calls home. He is an avid gardener and draws inspiration from Roman sculpture and architecture.

 

Private collection,© Chariots on Fire Collection Photo by Shuji Yoshida

 

To me, Makoto’s ceramics are like delightful poetry. They are the product of a very adventurous “Japanese business man” (as Makoto describes himself) who one day decided to walk down a different path with a new set of tools and a new set of dreams—a decision I greatly admire.

 

Private collection,© Chariots on Fire Collection Photo by Shuji Yoshida

 

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Posted in Art

PAUL NICKLEN

Our fragile polar ice caps are exquisitely photogenic — but only a handful of photographers have the passion, patience and persistence to capture these frozen worlds on camera. Among them is Paul Nicklen, acclaimed National Geographic photo-journalist who puts his life on the line, enduring minus 40°F temperatures and hiking hundreds of miles of tundra, so he can bring us the most compelling polar photography ever seen. His images of polar bears swimming beneath the ice, of narwhals crossing tusks, and of penguins releasing micro bubbles as they ascend through the water have given the world a front row seat to the daily magic — and drama — of these inhospitable, majestic regions where, as Nicklen says,  “ice is everything.”

“Ice is a highway, a place to rest, for bears, a floating sushi bar,” says Nicklen, speaking on the phone from his boat, about 300 miles north of his home on Vancouver Island. “If we lose ice, we stand to lose everything that lives on it; the foundation for algae. For krill. Seals lose the place to birth to their pups. Polar cod lose their homes. This effects everything at the top of the food chain. When you look at the life cycle, everything starts with ice.”  Nicklen says it’s his life’s purpose to protect the ice — “Luckily, all it takes is one image to get the world’s attention,” he says. And it’s true; with 22 million Instagram followers and a reputation as one of the greatest living nature photographers, Nicklen has the power to influence minds and spark action with one click of his camera shutter.

 

Its image mirrored in icy water, a polar bear swims submerged. Lancaster Sound, Northwest Territories, Canada.

 

Nicklen grew up on Baffin Island in Canada’s Arctic Circle, in a tiny Inuit town, population 190. His parents, a teacher and a mechanic, moved there in the mid seventies with their two young sons just “for the adventure” of it. They were one of three non-Inuit families in as cold and remote as a place as can be, where the sun would set on November 22, and would not rise again until January 19 the next year. “There was no TV or radio, no phone,” says Nicklen. “Snow became my sandbox, and I was learning survival skills while working through the cold at eight years old, under the aurora borealis.” Early on, he felt a “deep connection to nature”; he had pet seagulls, a pet harp seal. He became aware of the patterns of the wildlife around him—the white wolves, beluga whales, walrus and narwhals, feeding, living and breeding on and under the ice, year after year.

It was while studying marine biology in his twenties that he first got the idea to photograph the creatures he felt so close to. He had recently taken up scuba diving, and on one dive, he took a camera down with him. “That was when I realized there was a role for me,” he says. “As a scientist you’re taking the beauty of nature and turning it into dry facts — but I wanted to bridge the gap between science and people, using the power of visual storytelling.” Each time he zoomed in on the wildlife on the rapidly vanishing pack ice, he saw an opportunity. An opportunity to save it.

 

An airborne emperor penguin at the edge of an ice floe. Cape Washington, Ross Sea, Antarctica.

 

Nicklen has published eleven stories for National Geographic magazine, each one a feat of enormous bravery, luck and resilience. Hypothermia is par for the course. A few years ago, while diving with emperor penguins in Antarctica, Nicklen had to be pulled out of the water mid-shoot, as his body temperature dangerously low. “The water was the coldest that salt water can be before freezing,” he recalls. “At first, you lose feeling in your hands and feet, and your core gets cold, and then you lose all feeling in your limbs. It hurts like hell at first—but it’s when the shivering stops and everything starts to cramp up, that you have to stop, because you re entering the early stages of hypothermia.” Problem was, he didn’t want to stop shooting. “I never wanted to get out, ever. I wanted to take readers under the ice, and show them the penguins as these incredible water athletes, that can dive 1,500 feet deep and swim for three weeks at a time.”

For twenty years, he had wanted to swim with the narwhals, and photograph them. So he bought an ultra light airplane, had it shipped to the Antarctic, and when the weather was clement enough, he would land it on a drifting panel of ice and hope for the right moment to slowly introduce himself. “Took me ten years to get three hours of photographing narwhals,” he says.

 

Penguin feathers seal out water and trap air in a downy underlayer. Cape Washington, Ross Sea, Antarctica.

 

In 2007, a decade’s worth of photographs Nicklen had taken on and under the ice comprised the unforgettable Nat Geo story, “Vanishing Sea Ice”, among them, a particularly haunting image of a polar bear swimming under the ice, its ghostly reflection hovering above it, thanks to the peculiar refraction and mirroring of light that occurs underwater. Nicklen had imagined and sketched that photograph on a piece of paper ten years before he actually shot it. “Everyone knows what a polar bear looks like — but not everyone knows that they are incredible swimmers who can swim 100 miles without getting hypothermia. I wanted to show people that side of them.” It wasn’t until after emerging from the water that he looked through the images on his camera and realized he had finally got the shot he had dreamed about for so long.

Another Nat Geo cover story, on the elusive spirit bear saw Nicklen walking side by side with one of the rarest bears on earth (there are as few as 100, according to some estimates).“I don’t slink or sneak around like I’m a hunter — I let them see me and stand upright and talk to them.  I walked through the forest five feet away from the spirit bear. You have to be really respectful, but really relaxed.”  Doesn’t he ever get scared, getting so close to wild animals? “No. The most scared I’ve ever been as when I was attacked in the New York subway,” he says. “I don’t do well in crowds or around people. I guess some guy saw the terror in my eyes and threw me up against the wall.”

 

A female leopard seal presents her kill to the photographer. Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica.

 

Nicklen’s Nat Geo story about growing up on Baffin, and the melting of the ice pack, resulted in the magazine’s biggest sales in 14 years. It was, in his own words, a “gut wrenching” story. “I don’t lecture people on climate change, even though it’s incredibly emotional when I find a dead polar bear. I cry my eyes out. Because these are the animals that I am trying to protect. You see animals pacing up and down and there’s a feeling of panic in them, this urgency. They need a meal, and if they don’t put on enough fat they won’t make it through the winter. It’s tough, but I can’t lose hope; I’ve got too much work to do, to show people what’s at stake.”

 

A beautiful rainbow rises from its reflection on the icy Arctic Ocean. Foxe Basin, Nunavut, Canada

 

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Pierre Hermé

As a young boy, Pierre would wake up to the smell of warm croissants, bread and biscuits wafting through the window from the family bakery below. “To see that you can do something with your hand and you can give life to a cake, that was like magic for me,” says the 55-year-old chef, who would help his baker father in the kitchen. His mother, who managed the shop, warned him against becoming a patissier. “She said it’s too hard and you’ll never find a wife who wants this life,” recalls the Alsatian native.

But the 9-year-old’s mind had already been made up, and a life dedicated to confectionary pursuits wasn’t a choice but a calling—one that eventually garnered him the title of France’s youngest Pastry Chef of the Year, and the distinction of Chevalier of the French Legion of Honor in 2007. In 2016, Hermé was named the World’s Best Pastry Chef on the illustrious San Pellegrino World’s 50 Best Restaurants list.

Fixated on the idea of working in a kitchen, a 14-year-old Hermé enlisted the help of his grandmother to respond to an ad in the local newspaper for an apprenticeship with esteemed patissier Gaston Lenôtre at his namesake Parisian patisserie. Hermé stayed in the role for seven years, determined to learn as much as possible and, above all, to succeed. “I was anxious not to go back to Alsace with my suitcase and say, ‘Oh OK, I failed, I was fired,’ ” he says.

It was here where Hermé’s fascination with modernizing France’s beloved macarons began to take shape. “When I started at Lenôtre I didn’t like the macarons because they were very sweet. They were just two biscuits with a little bit of filling to stick together the two biscuits,” says Hermé, who began to experiment with the traditional formula he had been taught. “I tried to find a way to make the taste more powerful.” The solution, he discovered, lay in adding more garnish in between the delicacy’s two crispy shells, composed of egg whites, sugar and almonds. Going even further off script, Hermé began to incorporate more unconventional flavors and combinations such as rose, pistachio and lemon, deviating from classics like vanilla and chocolate. “I developed a new style of macaron,” says the pastry chef. “There was a big lack of creation in this field.”

By age 24 the rising sweets star was helming the pastry department at Parisian luxury food emporium Fauchon before moving on to consult for the storied macaron brand Laduree. In 1998, Hermé debuted the inaugural Maison Pierre Hermé Paris boutique in Tokyo at the Hotel New Otani, followed by his first storefront in Paris three years later on Rue Bonaparte. In 2008, the first Macarons and Chocolate boutique bowed on Rue Cambon in Paris, dedicated to the brand’s offerings—chocolates, macarons, cakes, ice cream and confectionary gifts—with the exception of fresh pastries and viennoiseries, which are sold at the brand’s flagships (Rue de Vaugirard and Rue Bonaparte in Paris and Aoyama, Japan) and Café Dior in Seoul, South Korea. Today the company has grown to 45 storefronts in 11 countries.

But no matter where you are in the world, the pleasures found inside the carefully curated world of a Maison Pierre Hermé Paris boutique are one and the same. Rows of chocolate bonbons fill the glass vitrines like jewels on display, competing for attention with the house’s Technicolor macarons in best-selling flavors including milk chocolate, passion fruit and ispahan, composed of rose, litchi and raspberry. “I have to give our clients the same experience,” he explains. “It’s about giving some pleasure to these people coming into our shop, taking time to choose a macaron, a cake, chocolates. That gives them pleasure. That’s the only goal.”

Hermé approaches his craft from the standpoint of both an artist and baker. The starting point is a mental image, which he sketches on paper, like an architect drawing up a blueprint. “I can explain to the people working with me in the kitchen how the layers come together,” he says. After imagining the product in his mind, he’ll write down the recipe. At any given moment, Hermé and his team are working on 30 to 40 new creations. Inspiration strikes in many forms, be it a conversation he had or something he saw or read. But most often it’s the ingredients that lend themselves to a creative spark.

When it comes to satisfying his own sweet tooth, Hermé still finds great enjoyment in pastries, whether made by his own hand or by other sweet makers. “It’s always a pleasure [to eat sweets], including when it’s work,” says Hermé, who is especially fond of ice cream. “It’s one category of product I prefer because there’s a lot of taste and texture.” Indeed, gelato and ice cream have been part of his confectionary endeavors from the beginning, reinterpreted in some of the brand’s iconic flavor combinations including ispahan and infinement chocolat.

He’s also a connoisseur of French wines and draws parallels between a vintner’s work and his own. “It’s a very similar craft to mine because it’s a way to combine different flavors and different smells. So there’s a lot to learn from this.” Other passions include art, design, contemporary architecture and travel—the latter of which often translates into new creations in the kitchen. “Traveling always enriches my knowledge about ingredients,” says Hermé, who finds savory foods as inspiring as sweet ones.

His latest obsession is black lemon, which he came across in a little shop in Corsica. A popular ingredient in Persian and Middle Eastern cooking known as loomi, its English translation is a misnomer: The fruit is actually a ripened lime that’s boiled and then sun-dried, turning completely black. “You use the inside, the peel and the zest,” says Hermé of the flavor-packed fruit, which can be used whole, sliced or ground and has a sour profile. The ingredient has already worked its way into Hermé’s macaron lineup, making its debut this winter alongside the seasonal foie gras and hazelnut combo. A black lemon tart is also in the works.

The secret to succeeding as a pastry chef, says Hermé, is knowledge. “When you learn to do pastry, you need to start like a student. That means working in the kitchen but also working at home and doing some reading about the history of the craft, the history of people in the business.” Knowledge of ingredients is crucial, too. “It gives you power and the base to be creative. You can taste the ingredients, but it’s not enough. You need to know about who makes them, where they grow, when it’s in season,” explains Hermé. For the last two years he’s been fixated on flour and the idea that it plays more than just a functionary role in his offerings. “I’m convinced that flour can also bring more taste,” says Hermé, who is focused on discovering the flavor nuances in a broad range of flour varieties, including rice, buckwheat and chestnut.

Hermé doesn’t feel any pressure to maintain his status as one of the world’s best pastry chefs. “It was a very nice surprise and good encouragement, but I did nothing special,” he says. “Every day I work toward making the products in the stores the best we can, so the pressure is always the same.” What he does feel compelled to do, though, is pass down his knowledge to the next generation of pastry chefs. “In all artisanal crafts this is the only way to develop and also enrich them,” muses the patissier. “This is an obsession, and my goal.”

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MASSIMO BOTTURA

Massimo Bottura’s first lesson on how to be a good chef happened on the soccer field, not in the kitchen. “It’s not about cooking. It’s about being a leader. You have to learn how to take decisions and read the eyes of the people that are working with you,” says the world-famous Italian toque. “I learned how to do that as a young soccer player at age 15. “I was very good at what I was doing; the team counted on me.”

At 54, the chef—who still knows how to have his way with a futbol—hasn’t stopped putting his leadership skills to the test. As the chef patron of Osteria Francescana, the three-Michelin star restaurant that topped this year’s list of the World’s 50 Best Restaurants, Bottura is a champion of avant-garde Italian cuisine. On a global scale, he’s revered for his fight against food waste and world hunger.

“Italy is a place kissed by God,” explains Bottura. “We eat to live and we live to eat. It’s in our DNA.” Family meals played a central role in Bottura’s own childhood, with his grandmother and mother dedicating themselves to feeding the extended family, including Bottura’s three brothers and sister—“almost every day it was a party of 20 or more,” Bottura says, recalling Emilian specialties like homemade tortelli and tortellini. And with older brothers who brought a teenage Bottura along on food and wine tours, his culinary horizons continued to reach new heights. One particular memory stands out in his mind: “They forced me to eat oysters, and since then, I’m crazy about them!” (The experience gave way to a dish on his menu, the Tribute to Normandy).

So it’s no surprise that Bottura has always felt a connection to food. Simply put, “The door of the gastronomic world was open,” he says, “and I walked through it.” In 1986, after giving up on the idea of a career in law, a 23-year-old Bottura opened the doors to a small trattoria, Campazzo, on the fringe of his hometown of Modena, a city just shy of 200,000 in the gastronomy-obsessed Emilia-Romagna region of Northern Italy, which prides itself, among other things, as the birthplace of balsamic vinegar.

The Campazzo years were formative ones for the newly minted restaurateur, who also studied under influential French chefs Alain Ducasse and Georges Cogny during this period. It was here where Bottura also befriended one of his most influential mentors—a local villager named Lidia Cristoni who imparted her traditional pasta-making techniques and years of wisdom garnered from working in restaurant kitchens upon the eager chef (who also credits her with teaching him “humbleness and how to be ready for service.”). “The more I dug deeper into this world, the more my interest became a passion,” says Bottura. “Once you have a passion, you can’t stop. You live it.”

But it wasn’t until the mid-nineties—after Bottura had sold Campazzo and opened his flagship restaurant, Osteria Francescana, with his now wife and collaborator, Lara Gilmore, in Modena—that he began to really tilt the axes of the world of Italian cuisine.  “Sometimes, tradition doesn’t have much respect for the ingredients. So I started looking at the past in a critical, not nostalgic, way, and bringing the best from the past into the future,” says Bottura. He compares the process to a mental image he has of a Chinese dissident artist Ai Wei Wei’s 1995 performance piece “Dropping a Han Dynasty Urn,” in which he smashes a 2,000-year-old vase. “I’m breaking my past to build the future. That’s the point.”

Following an apprenticeship with Spanish chef Ferran Adria, the visionary behind the now-shuttered elBulli (which also once held the distinction as the world’s best restaurant), Bottura began to approach his craft with a fresh perspective, harnessing traditional Italian ingredients and flavors into new forms. “Ferran was the one who really opened my mind and terms of freedom to express yourself,” explains Bottura, who had already begun to chip away at the cornerstones of Italian tradition with early, innovative dishes like the abstract Cappuccino, a savory riff on an Italian classic using potato and onion paired with balsamic vinegar, and served with a ciccioli frolli powder croissant, and Three Stages of Parmigiano Reggiano featuring three interpretations of its namesake cheese in different textures and temperatures (the current iteration of the dish features five options, including a mousse and a crunchy chip). “I had to show everyone that I really could cook better than their mothers” says Bottura, who was criticized early on in his career for his almost sacrilegious approach. A fusion of art and familiar Italian flavor profiles and ingredients, Bottura’s creations also capture a sense of nostalgia: Memory of a Mortadella Sandwich, for instance harkens back to his school-break lunches through a foam of mortadella

The restaurant is not just an ode to avant-garde Italian cuisine, but also Bottura and Gilmore’s shared passion for contemporary art: works by Bosco Sodi, Gavin Turk, Francesco Vezzoli and Duane Hanson dot the walls of the 12-table restaurant. Bottura’s love of music makes appearances on the menu in the form of dishes such as the black cod-driven Tribute to Thelonious Monk, an ode to the famed jazz pianist, and Autumn in New York, a dedication to Billie Holiday’s jazz song in the form of a vegetable and foie gras medley with a pour-over broth. (You’re as likely to find Bottura sourcing original Bob Dylan and BB King vinyl at the monthly local antique market as you are combing the farmers’ market for in-season produce.)

In 2002, the restaurant was decorated its first Michelin star, followed by a second in 2006, and a nearly unattainable third in 2012. In 2011, the International Academy of Gastronomy anointed Osteria Francescana the number one restaurant in the world.

Bottura doesn’t feel any pressure to maintain his status as one of the world’s most recognized chefs; he does, however, feel an obligation to use his influence to effect change. “It’s very important that I use my position to raise my voice, to move the spotlight from me to others. It can be farmers, cheese makers, or poor people. We confirm the problem, then we solve it using my spotlight,” he says. Case in point: when earthquakes struck his native Emilia-Romagna in 2012, Bottura devised a risotto cacio e pepe recipe to utilize thousands of wheels of Parmigiano Regiano that had been damaged in the disaster. The dish became a national sensation. “Italians in general are extremely, extremely social. We give our best moments when we are hit by something. When we need it we are extremely social and we care a lot about the others,” explains Bottura.

That same philanthropic spirit also shines through in Food for Soul, Bottura’s non-profit that turns the spotlight on food waste and hunger. During the 2015 ExpoMilan, Bottura debuted Refettorio Ambrosiano, turning an abandoned 1930s theatre into a modern-day refectory in collaboration with a team of artists, architects designers, and sponsors. Sixty chefs from around the world came together cook for the city’s underserved, using leftovers.  Over a five-month period, the team—which included the likes of Adria, Ducasse, Rene Redzepi and Mario Batali—transformed 10 tons of food waste from the Expo into 150 healthy meals a day.  “I want the most influential chefs in the world to understand the mentality of their grandmothers,” says Bottura of the concept, which teaches chefs not to throw anything in their kitchens away.

“After Milan, we received so many requests to open Refettorio in Tokyo, in London, everywhere. I said to Lara, ‘how can we do this?’” The Food for Soul foundation was born, and during the 2016 Olympics, Bottura, Gilmore, their two children, Alexa and Charlie, and another star-studded list of chefs headed to the host city of Rio de Janeiro to launch the next incarnation of his modern-day soup kitchen, Refettorio Gastromotiva. “[The chefs] trust me,” he says. “They know who I am and why I am doing this. During my 31 years of experience in this work, I’ve built credibility, and every single chef who came to Milan said, ‘I want to come back for Rio.’”

Brazil was much harder than Milan, he says, because he saw “things he couldn’t imagine.” But he was ready for them. “[These people] don’t have hope, and with [Refettorio Gastromotiva], they had something incredible to wait for. Because at 6 p.m., they could spend a couple of hours in a place that treated them like human beings.”

And whether he’s serving luminaries like Mark Zuckerberg and Robert De Niro, or children on the streets of Rio, Bottura’s approach is one and the same: “For me, it’s like I’m giving everything to everyone, because this is my passion,” he says. His ultimate goal, he says, is to work towards reducing a projected number of 860 million starving people in the world in 2050 by half. “If I can open the minds of people, of companies, of politicians, maybe we can do it,” he says. “Open 10, 100, 1,000 Refettorios around the world.”

At the end of the day, projects like the Refettorios can’t exist without Osteria Francescana. “It’s a laboratory of ideas. It’s where we create culture, and culture brings knowledge and a constant sense of responsibility.” The next step, he says, is bringing spirituality into the mix. How? He doesn’t know yet. What he does know is the feeling of excitement and responsibility he felt in Rio. “I always keep the door open for the unexpected, because it’s the most amazing thing ever to be surprised,’ he says. “That’s the secret of a great life.”

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