Yolenn Farges – Fulvia Larena. A conversation about sea and food.

Yolenn Farges: What is your personal relationship with seafood and cuisine in general? How did it intertwine with your research?

Fulvia Larena: I believe that food is a lens through which we can understand our relationship with the world. The way food is produced, processed, distributed, and consumed shapes society and reflects social dynamics and our relationship with the environment. We often take for granted what is on our plate: where it comes from, who produced it, under what conditions, and with what consequences. Exploring these aspects allows us to unveil the complexities and global structures that govern our era. Food has been the driving force behind the development of human societies. Settlements formed based on the ability to cultivate, hunt, and fish—all activities that have nourishment as the foundation of existence. However, today, food also represents an indicator of deep economic and social inequalities. The gap between large industrial productions and small rural and artisanal realities is increasingly pronounced. This is particularly evident in the fishing industry: while industrial fisheries continue to generate profits by devastating marine ecosystems, artisanal fishers struggle to survive. In places like the Aeolian Islands, over-tourism is accelerating this imbalance: many fishers abandon their trade, converting their boats into vessels for tourist tours, which are more profitable and economically sustainable. Territorial knowledge and field research are the foundations of my practice. My work is divided into an investigative part and a restitution part, which takes place in dialogue with artists whose practices include the use or study of food and its social and cultural components. Research on marine food resources is just one of the many ways we can read the world. It is an outpost from which to observe the economic, environmental, and cultural transformations taking place. This same approach can be applied to many other spheres of our society, revealing unexpected connections and offering new tools for understanding.

Y.F.: Islands hold a unique place in these dynamics. They are both places with a strong culinary identity and territories particularly vulnerable to environmental and economic upheavals. Their relative isolation, once a factor of autonomy, is becoming a challenge in the face of excessive resource exploitation and dependence on globalized food circuits. How do you see the specificity of islands in the way they respond—or resist—these changes?

F.L.: The Aeolian Islands are the custodians of a strong cultural identity built on dynamics deeply connected to the land. Dishes, techniques, and knowledge passed down through generations bear witness to a history of adaptation to the environment and the valorization of the landscape—both sea and land—and its resources. Increasing tourist pressure, climate change, and the difficult relationship with industrial fishing are altering these dynamics. The increasingly scarce local resources may be enough for a continuously declining population but not for the ever-growing fleets of tourists. It then becomes necessary to rely on globalized supply chains, losing the connection with one’s territory and the sense of typicity. However, this approach is not universally adopted. There are many virtuous examples of activities that seek to establish themselves beyond these islands’ ties to tourism: fishers and farmers aware of the importance of protecting the marine and terrestrial landscape, supporters of practices that promote short supply chains and enhance local biodiversity to counteract food homogenization, restaurateurs who know their products and how to present them without having to meet tourist demand at all costs, as well as initiatives that aim to sustain the islands year-round and protect and promote their environmental role. This is the case with associations such as Nesos, the Committee for the Marine Protected Area of Salina, the Lipari Film Forum, the Mutual Aid Warehouse (also in Lipari), and Palazzo Marchetti in Salina.

Y.F.: The Mediterranean Basin is both a region where culinary culture is intensely tied to the sea and one of the marine ecosystems most affected by pollution, climate change, and overfishing. It is estimated that nearly 90% of fish stocks are overexploited, and some species, such as bluefin tuna and swordfish, have seen their populations drastically decline. Sicily, with its surrounding islands, traditional artisanal fishing, and dependence on the sea, is an emblematic place to observe these transformations. Which areas did you focus on during your research residency in the Aeolian Islands? Have you encountered stories of disappearance and transformation within the local marine ecosystem?

F.L.: My research focused on the islands of  Stromboli, Lipari, and Salina, primarily selected for the presence of a year-round resident community. Even among these three islands, significant structural and communal differences emerge, but the challenges faced by fishers are common everywhere. During the winter period—when I visited the Aeolian Islands—fishing is extremely scarce: often, fishers return with only four or five fish per boat, reminiscing nostalgically, “Once, you could lower a net and pull it up full in just half an hour.” When this happens, many prefer not to sell their catch but to keep it for themselves and share it with friends. The decline in fish stocks is tangible daily, but it is not the only problem. Beyond the scarcity of fish, changes in the marine ecosystem are profoundly transforming the seabed structure, with even more severe long-term consequences. The loss of complexity in submerged habitats and, in particular, the gradual disappearance of Posidonia oceanica meadows represent a critical threat. This marine plant, essential for ecosystem balance, not only hosts numerous fish species but also contributes to coastal protection and water quality. Its regression, due to both rising water temperatures and unregulated anchoring and pollution, is reducing breeding grounds for many species, further aggravating fishing challenges. The seabed morphology is also changing: the loss of biodiversity and the alteration of food chains are simplifying ecosystems, making them less resilient to disturbances. Pink shrimp, for instance, have not disappeared but are migrating to greater depths due to rising temperatures, making their capture with traditional Mediterranean fishing traps impossible. At the same time, invasive species like the fireworm are further compromising fishing efforts and posing a danger to fishers.

Y.F.: Another aspect that concerns me is the impact of our activities not only on marine landscapes but also on the lifestyle of people historically and culturally connected to the sea, whose habits are changing to adapt to an evolving world. In the Aeolian Islands, have you observed a migration of fishing populations in response to the depletion of fish stocks?

F.L.: Migration from the Aeolian Islands has been happening for centuries. The first major wave occurred due to the phylloxera outbreak in the late 19th century, a pest that devastated vineyards. Fields and local productions were abandoned, and the population set sail for Latin America and, especially, Australia. It’s striking how almost every family has at least one relative in Australia! Today, as in many other islands and rural areas of Italy, migration continues at a steady pace. The depletion of fish stocks is undoubtedly one of the key factors: fishing, once one of the primary sources of livelihood, has become an increasingly difficult, unprofitable, and unsustainable activity. Older fishers are retiring, while younger generations, when given the opportunity, often abandon not only the family trade but also their birthplace. However, there are exceptions. In both Stromboli and Salina, I met young fishers who, aware of the challenges, chose to stay and actively engage in raising awareness and education, promoting a more sustainable approach to fishing.

Y.F: In the Aeolian Islands, you have observed that some fish traditionally used in certain recipes continue to be cooked, even though they are no longer found in local waters. This raises questions about the relationship between our habits and the demands of tourism, in terms of adapting to climate change. It reveals the tension between a deeply rooted culinary memory and a changing marine reality. During and after your research work, how have you seen this relationship between the persistence of food practices and the evolution of marine ecosystems?

F.L: Not only in Italy but in various Mediterranean cities, the fishing of alien species is still seen exclusively as a problem, as evidenced by the market prices of these species: the blue crab in Tunisia and Italy, the lionfish in Cyprus. These species are not integrated into local production chains and are sold at very low prices, almost as if they were a plague to be eliminated. Fishermen, therefore, often do not sell them and instead take them home to consume with family and friends. However, they are not incentivized to fish for these species because there is no market for them. This creates a paradox and a short circuit: the very species that most need to be fished are left in the sea. All this happens because we are unable to respond actively to ecosystems that are rapidly changing due to our actions. We continue to insist on traditions that no longer have any connection to the landscape, making urgent the question of what tradition really is.

Y.F: It seems to me that food and the way we produce and consume it can be an accessible tool for individual and collective action to build resilience/resistance, a lever for ecological repair. Choosing to eat invasive species rather than endangered ones, for example, or rediscovering practices like seaweed harvesting or shellfish farming, can help rebalance ecosystems. One of the dimensions of your work is intertwining these themes with the culinary practice of various artists. Could you tell us about the food performance you will present at the Ecomuseum of the Sea in Palermo during the Earth Day festival on April 10, 2025? How did you conceive this moment? What will happen on that occasion?

F.L: If it is true that food can be a lens through which to understand the complexities of the world, both in terms of research and observation, it can also become a medium for dissemination and experimentation. Food has a powerful aggregative and communicative power—it is easy to connect with others through it. Creating participatory moments where the main act is eating allows us to start from a personal yet shared experience to open discussions on broader issues. On the occasion of the Earth Day Festival on April 10, 2025, I will present a food performance with Yolenn Farges at the Ecomuseum of the Sea in Palermo, a place of extraordinary relevance to this reflection. During the event, through a series of tastings and proposed dishes, we will guide a discussion on the themes that emerged from the research together with invited guests, exploring how food can tell the story of our relationship with the environment, tradition, and change. The goal is to stimulate a deep dialogue, where food is not just nourishment but also an activator of thought and collective and critical awareness.

Y.F: The artist and cook Tiphaine Calmettes explores how cooking can become an artistic and political act, where every ingredient and gesture tells an ecological, social, and economic story. In her performances, she transforms cooking and eating into a space for collective reflection, inviting participants to question their relationship with food and the environment. By using available and/or low-impact marine species, providing concrete tools for sustainable renewal, teaching how to substitute certain species with others and how to cook differently, she offers best practices and regenerative recipes. For me, the meal is a space for discussion and action, where the act of eating is both intimate and political, as we welcome otherness into our bodies and question choices and habits. Organizing a meal or a culinary event creates a space for sharing not only food but also ideas and solutions. For you, can a performance be a space for collective reflection or an individual sensory experience that opens up new awareness?

F.L: Culinary performance, as a form of collective reflection, enacts a powerful interweaving between the intimacy of eating and the political and social dimension that food embodies. Looking at works like “Enemy Kitchen” by Michael Rakowitz, we can see how food becomes a means to question political conflicts, cultural identity, and urgent social issues. In these cases, the dining table is not just a place of nourishment but a true space for discussion and action. Food tells stories that go beyond the simple preparation of a dish. I believe that food is linked to an experience that transcends taste, carrying with it historical, cultural, and social dimensions. At the same time, recipes can become indicators of economic and social contexts, and food can serve as a lens through which to observe inequalities and consumption dynamics. Furthermore, in artistic projects like the film “Foragers” by Jumana Manna, food can become a symbol of resistance and protest. Manna uses the gathering of wild herbs as a means to tell the story of the political and cultural repression of Palestinian communities. Through conviviality, a collective dialogue can be stimulated, using the preparation and consumption of a dish as catalysts for a discussion on urgent and complex issues. We can start from a shared table—as Kelly Donati teaches us—to build a more sustainable relationship with the world, placing food at the center of a critical and participatory reflection.

Y.F: Thinkers like Donna Haraway provide concrete tools for renewal, helping us rethink our relationship with living beings. In “Staying with the Trouble”, the author invites us to imagine ways of coexisting with other species and to find concrete solutions to repair our relationships with the environment. She talks about “creating alliances” between humans and non-humans and crafting narratives that inspire us to act. In your work, I see this same tension between research and action, in the sense that you do not merely document ecological changes in Sicily but also invite reflection, discussion, and perhaps even action through performances and food practices. How do you see this transition between research and action in your work?

F.L: Rather than a transition, I would speak of coexistence. Scientific research has long highlighted the issues related to our relationship with the environment, yet much of the population, while potentially aware of the changes, still lacks the tools to fully understand the gravity and daily implications of these transformations. For this reason, I believe that designing moments of exchange involving artistic practices has the potential to bring these messages to a wider audience. Dialogue with experts and professionals is crucial but should not be self-contained. It is essential that this dialogue expands, providing the critical tools necessary for the entire community. In this sense, art and science must work closely together, transforming into tools for awareness and concrete action. In my work, a text I consider fundamental, in addition to Donna Haraway’s, is “Il paesaggio è un mostro” by Annalisa Metta, for its reflection on the relationship between humans and landscapes. Humans are part of the landscape, and many environments we believe to be natural or untouched are actually the result of human actions. A clear example is cultivated fields, which we often idealize as wild landscapes, or mountains, which have been shaped and altered by human presence since at least the 19th century. Building an interdependent relationship with our surroundings, based on exchange rather than exploitation, is what we should strive for. The idea of untouched nature can distance us from a deep understanding of the places we inhabit and, in the long run, prevent us from establishing an authentic connection with the environment. For me, cooking and eating together are moments of sharing that allow us to reflect on the importance of daily choices and the deep bond that exists between what we consume and the environment around us.