​​Accepting Imperfection: The Art of Bread Watching

From the series Promiscuity with Matter

Consider, for a moment, the roundness of a hand-shaped loaf of bread. There might be numerous reasons why the baker made this choice. I remember it as being the shape I gave to my first loaf of bread; both for the sake of simplicity in shaping, and the harmonious regularity that a circular shape naturally conveys.

Since I began baking, I’ve often made comparisons between bread and ceramics because of the gestures involved in the making of both. I find fermentation to be the only thing that separates the two. After being shaped, ceramics dry and are then fired. Similarly, bread undergoes an equally lengthy process that seems as outwardly static as clay. This is until fermentation—triggered at a certain temperature through the interaction of yeast, water, flour and atmosphere—causes the dough to rise, visibly increasing its volume.

Once in the oven, this transformation of matter continues until the baking is finished. This final phase of expansion, known in baking as the oven spring, is that magical moment when the hard crust of the bread cracks from the pressure within, and releases the excess air trapped inside. This air is nothing more than the enzymatic waste product of the microorganisms in the bread, that have been nourishing themselves to stay alive until that point.

Far from poetic, the baking of a crispy and fragrant loaf comes at the cost of millions of microorganismic existences. Whether or not the surface of the round loaf has been scored before baking, the air trapped inside will find an escape route, causing it to erupt and deform the harmonious regularity of its original shape. This necessary transformation can leave one feeling dismayed by its irregular deformity. Yet in this process, beauty tends to emerge, to be perceived more immediately, through this new, irregular shape.

This is perhaps what inspires the electrifying sensation watching the bread deform in the oven. It illicits a feeling of hope—a feeling I have constantly throughout the bread-making process—of anticipation. In watching, the concentration it takes to catch even the slightest slow movement; the excitement as the loaf expanded, and the joy of witnessing that slow deformation bring me true joy. Once baked, the bread has a completely transformed into a new, irregular appearance to when it entered the oven. I find that its beauty lies precisely in this transformation.

In this context, can we consider irregularity and asymmetry as liberation from perfection, then? This liberation presents the possibility of expression, and freedom of movement and thought, without relying on individualism.

By contrast, perfection and regularity are static, cold, and do not allow for nuance. In this sense, bread is freed by baking, as it consciously rejects the regular shape and white colour of its original form. In irregularity, one can perceive the possibility of something different, warm, vital, fluid, and open. Beauty emerges when this dual tension between perfection and imperfection comes into existence.

In a freshly baked loaf of bread, the rough space which emerges from the split becomes thus an escape route to freedom, as the bread breaks the bounds of regular convention.

This article is a contribution from one of the participants of The Gramounce Food & Art Alternative MA 2024-25. Their writing is inspired by one of our seminars, or responds to a similar field of interest within food & art.