| YOUR SPACE HERE. click for advertising info |
| Copyright 2006 Art History Chicks LLC Contact Us |
| susceptible to images |
 |  |  |  |  |  |  |
| | | | | | |
Art Unleashed
Whole Foods: An Essay in Five Parts
By Debra Brehmer
On September 20, the organic food chain Whole Foods Market
opened a branch in Milwaukee, its 156th nationwide. As part
of the new St. Mary’s Hospital construction on North Avenue,
Whole Foods snuggled its 55,000 square foot girth into an
area rich in east side history, from the venerable Beans and
Barley Market and Café to the west, to the unquenchable
Hooligan’s Superbar across the street, and the Oriental
Theatre down the block.
The location couldn’t be better for the targeted demographic of
upwardly mobile, socially-conscious gourmands (Sendiks
with crunch, but more so).
But, it should be mentioned that Whole Foods hasn’t landed
here without a wee bit of controversy following its succulent
organically raised lamb chops. I’ll get to that in a minute. But
first, let’s indulge:
Part 1: Indulge
I visited the store one day after it opened (and a number of
times since). There was a minor traffic lineup waiting to round
the corner off North onto Prospect to trail into the parking
structure. After pulling in (feeling good to have found a place),
one wanders down a generic hallway toward the store, which
suddenly, without warning, blossoms before you. The
transition from hallway passage to the somewhat startling
bustle of Whole Foods Market could only be described as
“climactic.”
From this momentous arrival into the land of heightened food
commerce, you step first into the produce department. Whole
Foods must have a staff of “food designers” to have achieved
the dense beauty of these displays. Cabbages, beets, and
carrots form elegant, layered tiers of color and texture and
bounty. Everywhere you look, fresh vegetables and fruits are
stacked in tall piles that first grab you on purely an aesthetic
level. How beautiful! And then they indirectly seep into your
mind ideas about health and fecundity and the good life. They
remind me of the ancient Egyptian and Mayan images of
“offerings” with stacks of delicious things piled sculpturally on
little tables, too beautiful for anything but the afterlife.
You can’t help but smile back at the produce compositions that
almost seem like the equivalent of the old reclining-nude-
come-hither routine of history painting. This is seduction of the
full-frontal style. Move over Bourgereau with your sexy little
peasant girls, move over Titian with your coy Venus, and butt
out Manet, with your “I’m not playing the game, I’m really a
prostitute," Olympia. Whole Foods has managed to turn the
produce section into a thinly veiled pornographic spread. Not a
drooping leaf present.
Whole Foods: An Essay in Five Parts
By Debra Brehmer
On September 20, the organic food chain Whole Foods Market
opened a branch in Milwaukee, its 156th nationwide. As part
of the new St. Mary’s Hospital construction on North Avenue,
Whole Foods snuggled its 55,000 square foot girth into an
area rich in east side history, from the venerable Beans and
Barley Market and Café to the west, to the unquenchable
Hooligan’s Superbar across the street, and the Oriental
Theatre down the block.
The location couldn’t be better for the targeted demographic of
upwardly mobile, socially-conscious gourmands (Sendiks
with crunch, but more so).
But, it should be mentioned that Whole Foods hasn’t landed
here without a wee bit of controversy following its succulent
organically raised lamb chops. I’ll get to that in a minute. But
first, let’s indulge:
Part 1: Indulge
I visited the store one day after it opened (and a number of
times since). There was a minor traffic lineup waiting to round
the corner off North onto Prospect to trail into the parking
structure. After pulling in (feeling good to have found a place),
one wanders down a generic hallway toward the store, which
suddenly, without warning, blossoms before you. The
transition from hallway passage to the somewhat startling
bustle of Whole Foods Market could only be described as
“climactic.”
From this momentous arrival into the land of heightened food
commerce, you step first into the produce department. Whole
Foods must have a staff of “food designers” to have achieved
the dense beauty of these displays. Cabbages, beets, and
carrots form elegant, layered tiers of color and texture and
bounty. Everywhere you look, fresh vegetables and fruits are
stacked in tall piles that first grab you on purely an aesthetic
level. How beautiful! And then they indirectly seep into your
mind ideas about health and fecundity and the good life. They
remind me of the ancient Egyptian and Mayan images of
“offerings” with stacks of delicious things piled sculpturally on
little tables, too beautiful for anything but the afterlife.
You can’t help but smile back at the produce compositions that
almost seem like the equivalent of the old reclining-nude-
come-hither routine of history painting. This is seduction of the
full-frontal style. Move over Bourgereau with your sexy little
peasant girls, move over Titian with your coy Venus, and butt
out Manet, with your “I’m not playing the game, I’m really a
prostitute," Olympia. Whole Foods has managed to turn the
produce section into a thinly veiled pornographic spread. Not a
drooping leaf present.
After this, one wanders in a bit of a daze through the continuing cornucopia to enter the fish area. The
bacon-wrapped scallops glisten and appear illogically huge. The individual portions of frozen fish
conjured an entire new life for me and my children: I envisioned eating snapper, grouper or swordfish
once a week because of the ease of the individually wrapped portions and because of the assurance of
the labeling. I, personally, feel lots of guilt about all kinds of things and this extends to eating. When I buy
tuna or salmon at the market, I feel bad about the depletion of sea life in our oceans, and I routinely
debate the ethics of farm-raised versus “wild.” Somehow, Whole Foods’ fish department eases the
burden in its labels and assurance that, ‘hey, it’s all okay. Anything you buy here has already been
ethically selected with good 'green' values. So relax, enjoy and indulge. You are doing the right thing. You
don’t have to think about it anymore.” Thank you.
Delight after delight. It’s almost like you are in a video game where your selection of a move to the right
or left lands you in an entirely different, mythical landscape of new sensations. Go right: the meat
department! Go left: An entire mini-store of clothing, cotton goods, house wares, etc., that has been
created under the proper conditions of organic materials and good work ethics. I probably don’t even
need to mention the breads, bakery and sprawling cheese sections, as well as the restaurant coves
where, after exhausted from your shopping odyssey, you can sit down at a number of sites and have
custom made sushi, paninis, Mexican food, salads, and more.
The Whole Foods concept turns shopping into entertainment. It turns a duty into a field trip, a task into a
titillating adventure. There are televisions for the Packer games, couches for the weary, wine sampling
stations. I overheard a southern-accented Whole Foods manager telling an employee that on opening
day there were 2,000 people standing around the store drinking wine from the wine dispensers. As
much bacchanal as bazaar.
One thing, however, that Whole Foods doesn’t have is ART.
PART 2: Local art?
Before the store opened, the management at Whole Foods wanted to lend some local “flavor” to the
enterprise and contacted Mike Brenner of Hotcakes Gallery in Riverwest to hang some art near the
coffee lounge. In Whole Foods’ commitment to a portion of their foodstuffs secured within “seven hours
of driving” from the store, they wanted to include some additional “local product” from the art world for
their grand opening. Perhaps, they thought, local art would lend a warmth and idiosyncratic spirit to the
rather formulaic (although wonderful) arrival of a new chain grocery market. I’m sure they thought that
local art would help bond “them” and “us,” in that lovely succinct way that art does. An aesthetic
handshake, so to speak.
Mike Brenner, a thoughtful and competent person, carefully considered the request and chose one of
his gallery’s artists who seemed to best reflect the Whole Foods personality – earthy, liberal, committed
to social good.
bacon-wrapped scallops glisten and appear illogically huge. The individual portions of frozen fish
conjured an entire new life for me and my children: I envisioned eating snapper, grouper or swordfish
once a week because of the ease of the individually wrapped portions and because of the assurance of
the labeling. I, personally, feel lots of guilt about all kinds of things and this extends to eating. When I buy
tuna or salmon at the market, I feel bad about the depletion of sea life in our oceans, and I routinely
debate the ethics of farm-raised versus “wild.” Somehow, Whole Foods’ fish department eases the
burden in its labels and assurance that, ‘hey, it’s all okay. Anything you buy here has already been
ethically selected with good 'green' values. So relax, enjoy and indulge. You are doing the right thing. You
don’t have to think about it anymore.” Thank you.
Delight after delight. It’s almost like you are in a video game where your selection of a move to the right
or left lands you in an entirely different, mythical landscape of new sensations. Go right: the meat
department! Go left: An entire mini-store of clothing, cotton goods, house wares, etc., that has been
created under the proper conditions of organic materials and good work ethics. I probably don’t even
need to mention the breads, bakery and sprawling cheese sections, as well as the restaurant coves
where, after exhausted from your shopping odyssey, you can sit down at a number of sites and have
custom made sushi, paninis, Mexican food, salads, and more.
The Whole Foods concept turns shopping into entertainment. It turns a duty into a field trip, a task into a
titillating adventure. There are televisions for the Packer games, couches for the weary, wine sampling
stations. I overheard a southern-accented Whole Foods manager telling an employee that on opening
day there were 2,000 people standing around the store drinking wine from the wine dispensers. As
much bacchanal as bazaar.
One thing, however, that Whole Foods doesn’t have is ART.
PART 2: Local art?
Before the store opened, the management at Whole Foods wanted to lend some local “flavor” to the
enterprise and contacted Mike Brenner of Hotcakes Gallery in Riverwest to hang some art near the
coffee lounge. In Whole Foods’ commitment to a portion of their foodstuffs secured within “seven hours
of driving” from the store, they wanted to include some additional “local product” from the art world for
their grand opening. Perhaps, they thought, local art would lend a warmth and idiosyncratic spirit to the
rather formulaic (although wonderful) arrival of a new chain grocery market. I’m sure they thought that
local art would help bond “them” and “us,” in that lovely succinct way that art does. An aesthetic
handshake, so to speak.
Mike Brenner, a thoughtful and competent person, carefully considered the request and chose one of
his gallery’s artists who seemed to best reflect the Whole Foods personality – earthy, liberal, committed
to social good.
The artist was Matthew Kirk, an American Indian, who lives
in both Milwaukee and Door County. Kirk, who has been in
and out of a number of art schools, considers himself
essentially self-taught. He works on found materials – old
boards mainly, that have history and character. His imagery
is Navajo meets Jean Michelle Basquiat. He deals with
stereotypes of Native Americans and explores the
dimensions of that imagery. His work is both rugged and
well orchestrated.
Brenner had Kirk and his wife bring the work to Milwaukee
from Door County. This was rather rushed, because Whole
Foods wanted the art in place before the grand opening. As
Brenner was waiting for the artwork to arrive, he sat in the
Whole Foods Café munching on some delicacy. He
recalled that: “All these people kept coming up and shaking
my hand and asking if I was a “LOCAL” artist. “We LOVE
local art,” they kept saying. Brenner didn’t really care. He
was simply happy eating his free range chicken shishkabob.
in both Milwaukee and Door County. Kirk, who has been in
and out of a number of art schools, considers himself
essentially self-taught. He works on found materials – old
boards mainly, that have history and character. His imagery
is Navajo meets Jean Michelle Basquiat. He deals with
stereotypes of Native Americans and explores the
dimensions of that imagery. His work is both rugged and
well orchestrated.
Brenner had Kirk and his wife bring the work to Milwaukee
from Door County. This was rather rushed, because Whole
Foods wanted the art in place before the grand opening. As
Brenner was waiting for the artwork to arrive, he sat in the
Whole Foods Café munching on some delicacy. He
recalled that: “All these people kept coming up and shaking
my hand and asking if I was a “LOCAL” artist. “We LOVE
local art,” they kept saying. Brenner didn’t really care. He
was simply happy eating his free range chicken shishkabob.
The installation went well and Shawna Muren, the store’s Marketing and Community Relations person
was extremely pleased. Feeling very satisfied with the project, Brenner returned to the store for the grand
opening to belly up to the burrito bar for breakfast and re-check how nice Kirk’s work looked in the
space. But the space was empty. The artwork had been removed. Muren ran into Brenner in the store
and expressed deep regrets and apologies that the regional vice president had come and felt that “the
work didn’t fit Whole Foods’ Corporate image.”
In an e-mail response, the store responded that “While we agree that art is subjective, overall, we didn’t
feel it (Kirk’s work) fit the viewpoints of our customer base for the Milwaukee store.”
Perhaps Kirk’s artwork really wasn’t right for the overall look of the store. That is certainly possible. One
can love a certain artist’s work, but not want it over your couch. But the incident raises a question: just
what kind of “corporate image” does Whole Foods want to project? Kirk’s work is as much of the earth
as art can get. Just what did the manager object to?
Brenner says, “It’s hard to say why they pulled Matt’s work. I think like almost everyone in Milwaukee, I
was initially fooled into thinking we were all lucky to have them here, like it said something positive about
Milwaukee. I was flattered to think we finally deserved a salad bar with huge cloves of roasted garlic,
stuffed grape leaves and salad greens other than iceberg, but when I walked through the new Whole
Foods with designer’s eyes, I realized it’s all an act. It’s all marketing, catch phrases, and GIANT logos. I
think they pulled Matt’s work because it’s real. It conveys emotion, doubt, honesty and a sense of history.
Those ideas no longer have a place in American popular culture.”
In subsequent months, Whole Foods did get a “local art” program initiated. Art in the Market allows
artists to submit proposals for periodic small shows in the store’s “lifestyle” corridor and its Allegro
Coffee Lounge. Interested artists can access applications can be printed from the wholefoodsmarket.
com website.
The first artist selected, whose work is currently on view (although you have to hunt for it in a rather
remote back hallway on the way to the restroom) is Paul Matzner, a local photographer. He has a series
of travel shots, which look like standard, pretty magazine fare, quite innocuous and essentially generic.
The slickness of the photographic surface and the distance imposed by their foreign locales perhaps
made them a perfect non-committal choice for a business that relies on packaging as its primary
means of communication. On Nov. 30 at 6 p.m., a new show of work by Wauwatosa “expressionist”
artist Pamela Anderson opens. But why show “art” at all if this is the goal? Politics, I fear, and an attempt
to warm-up the corporate formula.
was extremely pleased. Feeling very satisfied with the project, Brenner returned to the store for the grand
opening to belly up to the burrito bar for breakfast and re-check how nice Kirk’s work looked in the
space. But the space was empty. The artwork had been removed. Muren ran into Brenner in the store
and expressed deep regrets and apologies that the regional vice president had come and felt that “the
work didn’t fit Whole Foods’ Corporate image.”
In an e-mail response, the store responded that “While we agree that art is subjective, overall, we didn’t
feel it (Kirk’s work) fit the viewpoints of our customer base for the Milwaukee store.”
Perhaps Kirk’s artwork really wasn’t right for the overall look of the store. That is certainly possible. One
can love a certain artist’s work, but not want it over your couch. But the incident raises a question: just
what kind of “corporate image” does Whole Foods want to project? Kirk’s work is as much of the earth
as art can get. Just what did the manager object to?
Brenner says, “It’s hard to say why they pulled Matt’s work. I think like almost everyone in Milwaukee, I
was initially fooled into thinking we were all lucky to have them here, like it said something positive about
Milwaukee. I was flattered to think we finally deserved a salad bar with huge cloves of roasted garlic,
stuffed grape leaves and salad greens other than iceberg, but when I walked through the new Whole
Foods with designer’s eyes, I realized it’s all an act. It’s all marketing, catch phrases, and GIANT logos. I
think they pulled Matt’s work because it’s real. It conveys emotion, doubt, honesty and a sense of history.
Those ideas no longer have a place in American popular culture.”
In subsequent months, Whole Foods did get a “local art” program initiated. Art in the Market allows
artists to submit proposals for periodic small shows in the store’s “lifestyle” corridor and its Allegro
Coffee Lounge. Interested artists can access applications can be printed from the wholefoodsmarket.
com website.
The first artist selected, whose work is currently on view (although you have to hunt for it in a rather
remote back hallway on the way to the restroom) is Paul Matzner, a local photographer. He has a series
of travel shots, which look like standard, pretty magazine fare, quite innocuous and essentially generic.
The slickness of the photographic surface and the distance imposed by their foreign locales perhaps
made them a perfect non-committal choice for a business that relies on packaging as its primary
means of communication. On Nov. 30 at 6 p.m., a new show of work by Wauwatosa “expressionist”
artist Pamela Anderson opens. But why show “art” at all if this is the goal? Politics, I fear, and an attempt
to warm-up the corporate formula.
| Work by Matthew Kirk. |
| Work by Matthew Kirk. |
Part III: What I bought at Whole Foods
After wandering the lush aisles on my first visit, and carrying an empty basket I soon realized that I was
too engaged in gawking and pecking my way through the maze to actually consider a purchase. I
thought, well, that’s ok. I don’t really need anything. And besides, I couldn’t have possibly chosen one
thing over the other. It all dazzled.
But by the end of my meandering, however, I almost unconsciously found my basket filled with a few
items which I paraded up to the express lane, where a beguiled new staff member struggled to keep up
with the confusing flow of coffee sucking, chatting, question-asking customers.
The first thing I was compelled to put in my basket had been a bottle of wine. This particular California
Pinot Grigio had been arranged prominently near the aisle with a large $5.99 sign on it. The price as
well as the snazzy label, which I had never seen at my other Milwaukee wine shops, stimulated the “act.”
Perhaps it was the weight of the bottle that was rolling in my basket that instinctively led me to the next
purchase (to balance things out), or perhaps once you break through and complete one act, it gets
easier.
After wandering the lush aisles on my first visit, and carrying an empty basket I soon realized that I was
too engaged in gawking and pecking my way through the maze to actually consider a purchase. I
thought, well, that’s ok. I don’t really need anything. And besides, I couldn’t have possibly chosen one
thing over the other. It all dazzled.
But by the end of my meandering, however, I almost unconsciously found my basket filled with a few
items which I paraded up to the express lane, where a beguiled new staff member struggled to keep up
with the confusing flow of coffee sucking, chatting, question-asking customers.
The first thing I was compelled to put in my basket had been a bottle of wine. This particular California
Pinot Grigio had been arranged prominently near the aisle with a large $5.99 sign on it. The price as
well as the snazzy label, which I had never seen at my other Milwaukee wine shops, stimulated the “act.”
Perhaps it was the weight of the bottle that was rolling in my basket that instinctively led me to the next
purchase (to balance things out), or perhaps once you break through and complete one act, it gets
easier.
My next purchase was a packaged container of tuna
sushi for $9. I was thinking ahead to dinner and
again, unconsciously, looking for something that
would go with the wine. But it was probably just the
prettiness of the sushi package and its familiarity that
made it a safe, but slightly indulgent, purchase.
Foreign things like bacon wrapped scallops seemed
too challenging for a first visit. And I wasn’t in a
cooking mood.
Next was the most unnerving. I knew I wouldn’t get
through the Cheese department clean. It’s my
weakness. I began picking up individual cheeses
from the Whole Foods veritable river of cheese,
scanning the names, glancing at prices. I was feeling
sushi for $9. I was thinking ahead to dinner and
again, unconsciously, looking for something that
would go with the wine. But it was probably just the
prettiness of the sushi package and its familiarity that
made it a safe, but slightly indulgent, purchase.
Foreign things like bacon wrapped scallops seemed
too challenging for a first visit. And I wasn’t in a
cooking mood.
Next was the most unnerving. I knew I wouldn’t get
through the Cheese department clean. It’s my
weakness. I began picking up individual cheeses
from the Whole Foods veritable river of cheese,
scanning the names, glancing at prices. I was feeling
very anxious because there were way too many tempting choices. It felt like a book that you know is too
long, you’ll never get through it, but you begin anyway with a sense of defeat. Perhaps out of weariness, I
stuffed an Italian wedge of “Caciotta al Tartuffo” into my basket. I was going on instinct: the texture, color
and the fact that it was Italian. I didn’t notice that the modest piece of cheese was priced at $13.19 (until
I was at the checkout).
My last purchase was the weakest. While waiting in line at the checkout a nearby kiosk was flaunting a
stacked display of “Go Lean Crunch” cereal. The old “point of purchase” shell game worked again. I
drifted out of line and grabbed a box of cereal. Why? Because the picture looked good and the headline
said “go lean” as if it was a very smart choice and I’m sure I was feeling guilty about the cheese. On the
box, large blueberries were caught in mid-motion cascading to the bowl of granola, oat clusters below. It
was really the blueberries that clinched the deal, but I found out at home that there were no blueberries
in the cereal.
That’s it. Those were my purchases.
Let’s review: wine, tuna sushi, cheese, and cereal. Total for four items: About $32. I was a bit surprised
by the total.
When I got home, I lined up my purchases on the kitchen counter and started to think about these
choices. Hmmm. I’ve actually represented most of the food groups I told myself, trying to feel a bit better:
fish, dairy, grain and fruit (grapes in the wine). Perhaps the choices made more sense than I thought.
One could survive on these four things, I believe. I felt proud that a hint of my ancestor’s hunting and
gathering skills was perhaps still operative in my modern, diluted life. Then I started reading my
purchases’ labels and wondering how each product fit into the Whole Foods ethos of sustainability,
regionalism, organic consumption and healthiness.
The wine was grown and bottled in California and contained “sulfites,” which in the land of food co-ops
is something to be avoided. There was nothing on the label to indicate any organic growing methods for
the grapes and when I googled the brand name, nothing came up. As far as I could tell, this wine had
nothing to offer by way of “green” philosophy. The fact that it was shipped from California, utilizing all that
fossil fuel for transport, was another mark against it. However, it tasted very good and I would buy it
again.
The sushi package didn’t say anything about which ocean the tuna had been plucked from. All it said
was that it had been packaged in Austin, Texas (the Whole Foods headquarters). This surprised me, but
then I realized that it couldn’t have really been assembled in Texas and that Milwaukee Whole Foods
was just borrowing corporate labels. Because of the current depletion of ocean life, any purchase
involving seafood feels like something that should be reserved for special occasions and should involve
full consciousness. My purchase didn’t.
Now I was beginning to feel that familiar sense of anxiety about the morality of my choices. When I
picked up the cheese, I felt that, again, I had not made an ethical selection. The cheese had little
information on the label. This is what it said, “Caciotta al Tartuffo,” Italian, $21.99 per pound. Price
$13.19. Perhaps because it came from Italy, we like to imagine that the care of the cow was not
“corporate,” but allowed grazing on the open plains of Umbria and we can assume that it was prepared
in a small shop where generations of the family have learned and perfected the cheese trade. But again,
the transport from Italy to Milwaukee required lots of fossil fuel, which has of course ruined our
environment and brought us to the edge of another world war. Still, I started feeling okay about the
cheese and even got over the high price once I tasted it. Like a good wine, this cheese was complex. It
first tasted tangy and strong but then turned buttery and smoky. The flavor lingered and had depth. The
cheese smelled bad, so I knew the kids wouldn’t eat it and I could have it all to myself, with a glass of
the California wine.
The cereal turned out to be the worst purchase. It tasted great, but when I looked at the nutritional
breakdown, a number jumped out at me: Total fat, 3 grams per one cup serving. That seemed like a lot
for a cereal named “Go Lean Crunch.” I pulled the Corn Pops, Cheerios and Life off our panty shelf and
compared. Good old artificially yellow Corn Pops have 0 grams of fat. Cheerios had 2 grams and Life
had 1.5, making Go Lean Crunch the highest fat cereal of the bunch. I thought for sure that Go Lean
would trumpet the others in sugar content. But Go Lean had 13 grams of sugar, compared to Cheerio’s
1 gram and Life’s 6 grams. Corn Pops had the highest at 14 grams. As far as overall health goes, Go
Lean Crunch does incorporate 10 different whole grains and uses honey instead of processed sugar as
a sweetener, which seems like a good thing.
I did not make my purchases thinking I would write an article about this. But what is interesting is that my
purchases, in every way, defied the Whole Foods mission. I bought nothing “local” (from within seven
hours of the store) and nothing that even seemed to reflect particularly good farming practice. But these
items are what lured me in.
long, you’ll never get through it, but you begin anyway with a sense of defeat. Perhaps out of weariness, I
stuffed an Italian wedge of “Caciotta al Tartuffo” into my basket. I was going on instinct: the texture, color
and the fact that it was Italian. I didn’t notice that the modest piece of cheese was priced at $13.19 (until
I was at the checkout).
My last purchase was the weakest. While waiting in line at the checkout a nearby kiosk was flaunting a
stacked display of “Go Lean Crunch” cereal. The old “point of purchase” shell game worked again. I
drifted out of line and grabbed a box of cereal. Why? Because the picture looked good and the headline
said “go lean” as if it was a very smart choice and I’m sure I was feeling guilty about the cheese. On the
box, large blueberries were caught in mid-motion cascading to the bowl of granola, oat clusters below. It
was really the blueberries that clinched the deal, but I found out at home that there were no blueberries
in the cereal.
That’s it. Those were my purchases.
Let’s review: wine, tuna sushi, cheese, and cereal. Total for four items: About $32. I was a bit surprised
by the total.
When I got home, I lined up my purchases on the kitchen counter and started to think about these
choices. Hmmm. I’ve actually represented most of the food groups I told myself, trying to feel a bit better:
fish, dairy, grain and fruit (grapes in the wine). Perhaps the choices made more sense than I thought.
One could survive on these four things, I believe. I felt proud that a hint of my ancestor’s hunting and
gathering skills was perhaps still operative in my modern, diluted life. Then I started reading my
purchases’ labels and wondering how each product fit into the Whole Foods ethos of sustainability,
regionalism, organic consumption and healthiness.
The wine was grown and bottled in California and contained “sulfites,” which in the land of food co-ops
is something to be avoided. There was nothing on the label to indicate any organic growing methods for
the grapes and when I googled the brand name, nothing came up. As far as I could tell, this wine had
nothing to offer by way of “green” philosophy. The fact that it was shipped from California, utilizing all that
fossil fuel for transport, was another mark against it. However, it tasted very good and I would buy it
again.
The sushi package didn’t say anything about which ocean the tuna had been plucked from. All it said
was that it had been packaged in Austin, Texas (the Whole Foods headquarters). This surprised me, but
then I realized that it couldn’t have really been assembled in Texas and that Milwaukee Whole Foods
was just borrowing corporate labels. Because of the current depletion of ocean life, any purchase
involving seafood feels like something that should be reserved for special occasions and should involve
full consciousness. My purchase didn’t.
Now I was beginning to feel that familiar sense of anxiety about the morality of my choices. When I
picked up the cheese, I felt that, again, I had not made an ethical selection. The cheese had little
information on the label. This is what it said, “Caciotta al Tartuffo,” Italian, $21.99 per pound. Price
$13.19. Perhaps because it came from Italy, we like to imagine that the care of the cow was not
“corporate,” but allowed grazing on the open plains of Umbria and we can assume that it was prepared
in a small shop where generations of the family have learned and perfected the cheese trade. But again,
the transport from Italy to Milwaukee required lots of fossil fuel, which has of course ruined our
environment and brought us to the edge of another world war. Still, I started feeling okay about the
cheese and even got over the high price once I tasted it. Like a good wine, this cheese was complex. It
first tasted tangy and strong but then turned buttery and smoky. The flavor lingered and had depth. The
cheese smelled bad, so I knew the kids wouldn’t eat it and I could have it all to myself, with a glass of
the California wine.
The cereal turned out to be the worst purchase. It tasted great, but when I looked at the nutritional
breakdown, a number jumped out at me: Total fat, 3 grams per one cup serving. That seemed like a lot
for a cereal named “Go Lean Crunch.” I pulled the Corn Pops, Cheerios and Life off our panty shelf and
compared. Good old artificially yellow Corn Pops have 0 grams of fat. Cheerios had 2 grams and Life
had 1.5, making Go Lean Crunch the highest fat cereal of the bunch. I thought for sure that Go Lean
would trumpet the others in sugar content. But Go Lean had 13 grams of sugar, compared to Cheerio’s
1 gram and Life’s 6 grams. Corn Pops had the highest at 14 grams. As far as overall health goes, Go
Lean Crunch does incorporate 10 different whole grains and uses honey instead of processed sugar as
a sweetener, which seems like a good thing.
I did not make my purchases thinking I would write an article about this. But what is interesting is that my
purchases, in every way, defied the Whole Foods mission. I bought nothing “local” (from within seven
hours of the store) and nothing that even seemed to reflect particularly good farming practice. But these
items are what lured me in.
| Promotional photo from 1895 pamphlet called Northern Wisconsin: A Handbook for the Homeseeker. |
Part Four: Deeper into the subsoil.
The Milwaukee Journal Sentinel fawned over Whole Foods arrival with nearly full-page gushers:
spreads with cute graphics of the typical “whole foods shopper,” etc. Nary a word about any of the
deeper issues of the “organic” industry and its rapid growth into corporate plus sizes.
The issues are complex and will be difficult to summarize quickly. But the underlying problem revolves
around the oxymoron of “industrial organic.” The organic food industry has bloomed into an $11 billion
industry that is now the fastest growing sectors of the food economy, according to Michael Pollan in his
book The Omnivore’s Dilemma. Even Pick-n-Save and Wal-mart now stock organic products. The
grass roots, political movement spawned in the 1960s (or even earlier) has come full circle in 40 years
to be absorbed and digested by the mainstream. But this is a good thing: it means that consumers are
indeed becoming more aware of the ethical and environmental issues of eating. It means that good
farming practices that don’t use chemicals and growth hormones and that treat animals humanely and
don’t destroy the biological “web,” are being supported and that consumers will pay a little more for
healthier, safer more ethical eating. Right?
If only it were that simple. But as Pollan points out in his book, the burgeoning organic business has
lead to “industrial” sized organic farms and the need to raise so many grain fed chickens and grazed
cattle and insecticide-free heads of lettuce and hormone-free milk that the little family farm still can’t
compete and the independent farmers will have a tough time getting their truly organic produce into
Whole Foods Market. It just isn’t practical.
Then there are the definitions. “Free range chickens” are those that have “access” to the outdoors.
Pollan points out that the door might be closed most of the time and the chickens might not even want to
go out there if they are accustomed to dense quarters. He visited Petaluma Poultry in California. “The
chicken houses don’t resemble a farm so much as a military barracks: a dozen long, low slung sheds
with giant fans at either end.” 20,000 chickens were packed into a space with two doors at either end of
the building opening to grassy yards. But the chickens don’t go outside. They have adapted to the inside
environment and the farmers are happy, because without using antibiotics, these chicks are very
susceptible to disease exposure and it’s better that they don’t go outside. Compared to their non-
organic brothers and sisters, these chickens have a few more square inches of living space per bird,
access to the outdoors, organic feed and they get to live a few days longer.
What seems to happen so quickly in America is that the momentum of capitalism, profit and marketing
supercedes all, even the best of intentions. And that is what keeps me from fully falling into a drugged
and happy stupor when I enter Whole Foods.
We ARE aesthetic creatures and we respond to the visual (design, product display and marketing spin).
But I hate to see something as important as our environment and infrastructure of the food chain
manipulated by the market in an attempt to stop individual thought. When the headline blasts “Go Lean
Crunch” and the produce is in an organic market, need we even read the label or continue to ask
questions? Probably not. When Kraft or Kellogg’s throws this kind of thing at us, it makes sense.
Marketing Captain Crunch with bright, cartoon images at least isn’t a conflict of form and content.
Captain Crunch IS junk food. But marketing organic products with little “stories” of lambs and chickens
leading the good life on some small family farm is dishonest on a level that hurts.
The Milwaukee Journal Sentinel fawned over Whole Foods arrival with nearly full-page gushers:
spreads with cute graphics of the typical “whole foods shopper,” etc. Nary a word about any of the
deeper issues of the “organic” industry and its rapid growth into corporate plus sizes.
The issues are complex and will be difficult to summarize quickly. But the underlying problem revolves
around the oxymoron of “industrial organic.” The organic food industry has bloomed into an $11 billion
industry that is now the fastest growing sectors of the food economy, according to Michael Pollan in his
book The Omnivore’s Dilemma. Even Pick-n-Save and Wal-mart now stock organic products. The
grass roots, political movement spawned in the 1960s (or even earlier) has come full circle in 40 years
to be absorbed and digested by the mainstream. But this is a good thing: it means that consumers are
indeed becoming more aware of the ethical and environmental issues of eating. It means that good
farming practices that don’t use chemicals and growth hormones and that treat animals humanely and
don’t destroy the biological “web,” are being supported and that consumers will pay a little more for
healthier, safer more ethical eating. Right?
If only it were that simple. But as Pollan points out in his book, the burgeoning organic business has
lead to “industrial” sized organic farms and the need to raise so many grain fed chickens and grazed
cattle and insecticide-free heads of lettuce and hormone-free milk that the little family farm still can’t
compete and the independent farmers will have a tough time getting their truly organic produce into
Whole Foods Market. It just isn’t practical.
Then there are the definitions. “Free range chickens” are those that have “access” to the outdoors.
Pollan points out that the door might be closed most of the time and the chickens might not even want to
go out there if they are accustomed to dense quarters. He visited Petaluma Poultry in California. “The
chicken houses don’t resemble a farm so much as a military barracks: a dozen long, low slung sheds
with giant fans at either end.” 20,000 chickens were packed into a space with two doors at either end of
the building opening to grassy yards. But the chickens don’t go outside. They have adapted to the inside
environment and the farmers are happy, because without using antibiotics, these chicks are very
susceptible to disease exposure and it’s better that they don’t go outside. Compared to their non-
organic brothers and sisters, these chickens have a few more square inches of living space per bird,
access to the outdoors, organic feed and they get to live a few days longer.
What seems to happen so quickly in America is that the momentum of capitalism, profit and marketing
supercedes all, even the best of intentions. And that is what keeps me from fully falling into a drugged
and happy stupor when I enter Whole Foods.
We ARE aesthetic creatures and we respond to the visual (design, product display and marketing spin).
But I hate to see something as important as our environment and infrastructure of the food chain
manipulated by the market in an attempt to stop individual thought. When the headline blasts “Go Lean
Crunch” and the produce is in an organic market, need we even read the label or continue to ask
questions? Probably not. When Kraft or Kellogg’s throws this kind of thing at us, it makes sense.
Marketing Captain Crunch with bright, cartoon images at least isn’t a conflict of form and content.
Captain Crunch IS junk food. But marketing organic products with little “stories” of lambs and chickens
leading the good life on some small family farm is dishonest on a level that hurts.
Part Five: Little farmers and their
pickup trucks.
Every Saturday during the growing season, the
parking lot of Beans and Barley is turned into a
mini-farmer’s market. The week after I visited
Whole Foods I happened to have breakfast at
Beans on a Saturday and was floored by how
puny and humble these farmers’ offerings now
seemed. I had never thought this before. The
farmer’s markets had always looked like health
and well-being personified. But not anymore, not
compared to Whole Foods. Dirt still clung to their
potatoes. These growers drove old pickup trucks
with jerry-rigged shelves in the back to transport
their goods. The images that now came to my
mind involved sweat, labor, financial hardship,
drought, pestilence – all the normal stuff a
farmer deals with.
pickup trucks.
Every Saturday during the growing season, the
parking lot of Beans and Barley is turned into a
mini-farmer’s market. The week after I visited
Whole Foods I happened to have breakfast at
Beans on a Saturday and was floored by how
puny and humble these farmers’ offerings now
seemed. I had never thought this before. The
farmer’s markets had always looked like health
and well-being personified. But not anymore, not
compared to Whole Foods. Dirt still clung to their
potatoes. These growers drove old pickup trucks
with jerry-rigged shelves in the back to transport
their goods. The images that now came to my
mind involved sweat, labor, financial hardship,
drought, pestilence – all the normal stuff a
farmer deals with.
It would be hypocritical of me to object too much to Whole Foods Market. I have become dependent on
some of their products, such as the whole-wheat tortillas and their 365 brand Grapefruit scented hair
conditioner as well as the sun-dried tomato salad. But the intense marketing and product styling will
continue to give me a prickle of discomfort when I go there.
To try to conclude on a positive note: Whole Foods is responding to our current cultural conditions as
receptively as possible by supporting the organic movement, trying to educate shoppers and offering an
enticing range of products not available anywhere else. It is also following a national trend of re-styling
the singular notion of “shopping” into an entertainment experience: stroll, drink wine or coffee, sit in the
café, have a beer, watch TV. Despite the aforementioned issues and complexities, this is a step in the
right direction, isn’t it? I really don’t know.
Debra Brehmer is co-publisher of Susceptible to Images.
Comments? Email dbrehmer@susceptibletoimages.com
some of their products, such as the whole-wheat tortillas and their 365 brand Grapefruit scented hair
conditioner as well as the sun-dried tomato salad. But the intense marketing and product styling will
continue to give me a prickle of discomfort when I go there.
To try to conclude on a positive note: Whole Foods is responding to our current cultural conditions as
receptively as possible by supporting the organic movement, trying to educate shoppers and offering an
enticing range of products not available anywhere else. It is also following a national trend of re-styling
the singular notion of “shopping” into an entertainment experience: stroll, drink wine or coffee, sit in the
café, have a beer, watch TV. Despite the aforementioned issues and complexities, this is a step in the
right direction, isn’t it? I really don’t know.
Debra Brehmer is co-publisher of Susceptible to Images.
Comments? Email dbrehmer@susceptibletoimages.com