The artists in Anthony Meier’s group show, “Consider the Oyster,” are united, not by their relationship to mollusks, but by a more ephemeral relationship to M.F.K. Fisher’s short book of the same name.
Throughout the work, published in 1941, Fisher writes lyrically about oyster facts and folklore, from the mollusk’s lifespan to its place in our collective and culinary imagination. She also includes several recipes and reminiscences about the various preparations of dishes she’s enjoyed in which oysters are the star ingredient.
With the exception of Libby Black’s entry—a sculptural facsimile of the book itself—visitors to the gallery will have to make their own mental leaps to connect any actual or suspected dots between the works of art and Fisher’s prose. Carol Bove’s untitled sand dollar (2009), bleached white by the sun or by some other mysterious alchemical process, faces the viewer from its perch on a small brass stand. Because of its scale amongst the larger paintings and mixed media work, it takes on the appearance of a gift store knickknack, denuded of its imperfections.
When sand dollars, up from the depths, land on the shoreline, they’re rarely alive, and their skeletons are often broken and mottled gray. Bove’s antiseptic version of the echinoderm—not a mollusk—also suggests something antithetical to my understanding of Fisher’s work. And, apart from an oil painting, it emphasizes the underrepresentation of all things oceanic in the gallery.
The idea for “Consider the Oyster” comes from a love and admiration for Fisher’s oeuvre. But food, Fisher’s essential subject, isn’t part of the curatorial approach. As it fits into the rest of her bibliography, Consider the Oyster takes cooking and the ensuing meals as a point of departure for self-reflection and cultural or sociological commentary.
In that spirit, Soumya Netrabile’s Pink Sand Beach (2025) is a dreamy psychological seascape with a colliding sense of perspective. We see the elements of a beach half-remembered and painted as a blurred collage. It’s easier to accept the presence of other works by Emma Amos, Yayoi Kusama and Ruth Asawa without having to apply Fisher and her oysters as the guiding principles.
Black admits that her contributions, Consider the Oyster MFK Fisher and The Alice B. Toklas Cookbook, come from a more literal approach. “I remake things to slow people down and to really understand the world that I live in,” she explained. Her “books” are an endearing meeting place between sculpture and paintings. Black makes them by hand out of paper, paint, pencil and glue. She also created tiny, beautiful origami-esque figures that pop up on top of the books like objects in a diorama.
For the Fisher book, Black made an oyster in its shell, an oyster fork, a lemon wedge and a sprig of parsley. “It’s kind of like a still life but also bringing the book more to life, more than just judging a book by its cover,” she said. To make them, Black uses Strathmore paper, which she describes as being thinner than cardboard. The books are hot-glued together and hollow inside. “Then I coat it with acrylic paint,” she explained. “I’ve been doing this for over 25 years, and they’re not going to fall apart.”
After considering the oyster, the sand dollar and the beach, I took a short walk down to the Madrona cafe and bakery. I’d read about it to prepare for my lunchtime jaunt to Mill Valley, then forgot the name. When I asked at the gallery for directions to a nearby bakery, the curator knew exactly which one I had in mind. “Madrona,” she exclaimed.
The cafe is, in fact, on Madrona Street, a quiet side street just outside the center of town. Inside, the barnyard-chic aesthetic is grounded by a warm French blue paint paired with white honeycomb tiles affixed to the front of the kitchen wall. The baked goods are equal to the ones made by their East Bay confreres (though Fournée, with its lamination expertise, is the closest counterpart).
I didn’t content myself with a single item. I ordered, and later devoured, a vegetarian sandwich that smashed chickpeas into something remarkably close to egg salad. It was creamy and filled with a crunchy, unidentifiable vegetable that was probably celery. The slice of focaccia, made with onions embedded in the crust, was slightly charred and crispy on the outside and delectable on the inside. A lemon scone conjured a Proustian memory of scones I used to eat at a now defunct bakery. On a single day trip to Mill Valley this summer, it’s possible to consider the solitary oyster and the companionable scone.
‘Consider the Oyster’ at Anthony Meier through Aug. 8. 21 Throckmorton Ave, Mill Valley. 415.351.1400. anthonymeier.com.
Madrona Bakery, 17 Madrona St., Mill Valley. Open Thu to Mon 8am-3pm. 415.915.9120. madronabakery.com.
