Feast for the Eyes: Discover Why ‘FOOD’ Transforms a Gargantuan Table into a Spectacle Without Nourishment

It all started with dirt. Five and a half tons of it. For a while, it just sat there on a big dining table, looking out of place. Then, shiny silver platters arrived, as if they were part of some strange ritual.

FOOD is not just any dinner show. Created by performance artist Geoff Sobelle, it transforms eating into something unsettling, absurd, and thought-provoking. The production, which ran at Stanford Live from February 5 to 8, presents a big table where no one actually eats. Sobelle moves through the space with a strange mix of grace and intensity. He starts off as a charming host but quickly shifts into a disturbing spectacle, biting into a fish that splatters everywhere, as if he’s challenging the audience to confront the rawness of consumption.

This performance dives deep into themes of power and privilege. Who gets to eat? Who pays the bill? Sobelle hands out small houses to audience members, symbolizing our shared burdens of debt and expectation. “You can look, but you can’t touch,” says a woman who drifts past, a reminder that we are all part of this strange experience.

The show balances the personal with the industrial. Above, a chandelier made of plastic bottles casts a shadow, highlighting our wasteful habits. Sobelle raises questions about our idea of progress. What happens when the lights go out? The focus shifts to dirt and decay, the only things that truly endure over time. The show’s commentary is stark — while glass and steel may last, our memories and connections fade.

Each night of FOOD is unique. I attended on a whim, but friends attending later noted a heightened energy. The performance seemed to consume Sobelle, pushing him further with each show. By the final night, he would be off to celebrate his son’s birthday, reminding us that even artists have to step away from the feast.

Watching FOOD left me unsure about my feelings. I was captivated, feeling the tension and complexity of the moment. I watched Sobelle interact with the elements around him, questioning whether I was really hearing the sounds he created or if my imagination was running wild. The performance evoked all senses, making the ordinary feel surreal.

Sobelle’s work is less of a puzzle and more a reflection of our world today. He describes his approach as a “colossal practical joke,” hinting at the ridiculousness of dining itself. Eating alone might be for sustenance, but sharing a meal becomes a performance. In FOOD, he pushes this concept, consuming everything from ranch dressing to raw eggs with wild abandon. There’s no shame in his acts — just a fierce commitment to embracing hunger in all its forms.

At one point, a diner declares the evening’s wine choice, evoking laughter from the alumni in the crowd. Sobelle thrives on the audience’s energy, embracing the absurd with determination. Yet, despite the humor, there’s an unsettling aftertaste left after the performance. What did we just witness? Was it a farce or a lesson? FOOD doesn’t provide answers. Instead, it invites reflection, leaving us to wonder if we’re the ones consuming or being consumed.