Amaia is currently knee-deep exams, one of which is the Danish equivalent of Nat 5 Art. It’s a serious affair: two years’ worth of artistic output compiled into a neat little portfolio which she has to display in her own art cubicle, polished off with an oral exam in front of an external ministry-appointed examiner next week.
She has to display and categorise her work with all the solemnity of a gallery curator. "Famous artwork redone in the style of another artist," check. "Self-portraits over time to show improvement," check. "Animal portrait in charcoal," check. "Works with varying light sources," check - etcetcetc... "3D clay media sculpture representing your soul, but in the form of lunch," wait, what?
Yes, one category was to make, in clay, a slice of rye bread with your favourite toppings complete with a 2D explanation of the cultural and personal backstory of your sandwich. Some kind of art meets anthropology thing in the most Danish way possible!
Now, Amaia is nothing if not principled. She took one look at this brief and declared, flatly, "I’m not doing that."
"But everyone else is," said the teacher. "I know you're not fully Danish, but look at Farouk, he made a curry to represent his heritage and stuck it on a clay slice of rye bread."
I can only begin to imagine Amaia's reaction to that, she certainly told me in no uncertain terms that she wouldn't be wasting a decent curry by putting it on rye bread, not as long as peshwari naan exists!
They suggested she make something traditionally Scottish on top of the rye bread to represent her blended identity. "It’s about showing who you are!" they encouraged.
Amaia’s response? "No one in Scotland would ever put a potato scone and square sausage on rye bread. It’s sacrilege."
In the end, she stuck to her guns, making a lovingly detailed square sausage, a tattie scone, and a fried egg, layered triumphantly on what she insists is a proper Scottish morning roll.
No rye in sight. No compromise. No apologies.
When I asked if she was worried they might fail her, she shrugged and said, "If they do, it’ll have been worth it to retain my cultural identity."
I have never been prouder. Vive la sausage rebellion.
