This work of mine is called Sunset, though any sense of peacefulness that it conveys is ironic. I think I've made it obvious that the even rows of roast beef are a satirical comment on the 1931 Iowa Cow War. By referencing the unrest of the past, I comment on the uncertainty of our own times. In this way, the meat speaks to us all in a sort of bovine anthem: "We are all mad cows." The sandwich creates a constant tension between diametrical opposites: animal vs. vegetable, chewy vs. crisp, savory vs. sweet.
I haven't worked extensively in roast beef—I'm more experienced in turkey and ham—but recently I've learned a great deal experimenting in this new medium. I've been trying to push myself with new textures and colors. I love the way the meat has a sort of iridescence that dances across its surface like the dusk-red sun atop the stippled sea. But the most interesting thing about beef is that this glittering quality can also recall the fireworks of battle or the glint in a vengeful lover's eye. A single slice of beef can contain worlds.