The studio this week and last has been the scene of both Mushroomtopia and Snailopolis. In a previous life I used to have wonderful bantam hens, and a big fluffy Buff Orpington that led sit-ins on my kitchen table. They inhabited chicken houses called Chickenopolis 1, 2 and finally 3. Now I have a snailarium and a number of Mendip snails that variously go by the names of Fennel, Lettuce & Philibert (a Prince of Savoy). Some of the smaller inhabitants are difficult to tell apart so are working under the more transferable Snail 1, Snail 2 and “Damn that one’s fast”.
There is a backstory to my snail wrangling. Moons ago, my father decided that snail farming might be a lucrative retirement plan. He’d heard about Mendip snails being good eating, and how various gastric pubs were putting them on their menus. Mendip snails and chips, snails in a basket, snail melba, Mendip garlic snails, snail pâté. The list was endless. There were people in Wales selling snails to populate snail farms, along with purging tips and methods for keeping them local.
Intrigued, Pa decided to research the subject more deeply. Our garden was a terraced nightmare made from cascading dry stone walls, the limestone so beloved of local snails Mendip and otherwise. Buckets of the pesky snails were collected, housed under boards to provide shade, fed lovingly with lettuce and cabbage. Every night the snails made a bid for freedom, every morning my Pa collected them up and put them back. Talk was talked about purging and cooking.
I eat everything and there was never once snail on the menu. I suspect my mother revolted and my father wasn’t sure about the flavour or the concept. Eventually, lemonade-yellow-and-liquorice-striped snails made forays back to the garden, returned less readily by my father who was less excited on the matter. The limestone habitat repopulated pink and yellow. Christmas’s for years after involved snail-themed socks. I can’t see a snail ceramic without thinking of Dad.
Fast forward to a long weekend in Wales in October. In the gorgeous hills around my friend Nick’s there were all sorts of critters, and in some wet grass one I spotted a pink spiralled Mendip snail. I saw it out the corner of my eye as we photographed huge landscapes, and it lodged in my subconscious. I found myself thinking about it and snail photography, and things to do in the studio when it was raining.
Down in Somerset visiting my Ma, it was a natural step to look around the garden for the descendants of my Father’s epic snail adventure. (Which turned out at the time to be a con, exposed on the telly by Esther Rantzen). I can’t find a reference yet but I have a feeling that the Romans ate a lot of snails. Pisces murum. Feel free to add a comment if you know about this. However, there are websites devoted to the subject of Mendip Wallfish recipes (I’d like to think this was a Hadrian’s Wall reference but it’s more likely a disguise of the fact you’re chewing on a monopod). If you’d like the read more have a look at the Campaign for Real Farming. I think the term ‘Wallfish’ sounds totally grim. Snails, however, I like. My mother’s house is very pink. There’s a pic above I took last year of a snail enjoying the crazy pinkieness of the house.
Snail heading out
Prince of Savoy Cabbage Mountain
The snails had gone for a kip. Look under the leaf on the right. This is a set I built for them, augmented with fresh lettuce.
Weirdly Snail 1 didn’t mind climbing all over Fennel (shout out to Dan Hall for an excellent name) and shot over her/his shell in the quest for lettuce. They’re really inquiring little beasts.
The Mushrooms are turning into a whole thing with or without the snails.
Anyway, I’ve been snail wrangling for macro photographic purposes and the Mendips are all fine in Snailopolis. Mushrooms from the hill behind Ma are the set, and I’m working on spore print photography. The macro adapter arrived from Jeff yesterday so next up for experiment is my inverted 50mm lens turning small snails large. There’s a distinctly autumn feel to the studio. The Mendip snails are immense fun to photograph and I’m in love with them. I’m leaving fresh lettuce out for the one that took off, and they’re being regularly spritzed with facial spray Evian. Nothing is too good for them.
I think my Pa would have been proud. Esther Rantzen not withstanding.
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