People, I like to make cakes. Maybe I do. I have an entire play fueled by the hours I spent with my Mom learning how to ice a cake. (It involves butter knives, luke-warm water, and skills that I do no possess. She makes some serious perfect, as Mom’s tend to do.)
Maybe I’m saying that I’d be happy to make and decorate stupid/silly/festive cakes all day – forever. Maybe I’d like that. Now I’m not claiming that my cake-gifts are superior to those of people that are – say – trained. I have no ‘skill’ per se – nor do I really have the patience to like make flowers and/or villages out of sugar water – or whatever the f. Maybe I don’t feel like I need an mfa in the cake.
So I present to you some of the bekah cakes (and maybe a pie) of the past and present. Because yes, I photograph them.
Smile, the cake.
Americans, meet the cake of Independence. I was fixing up this sassy little patriotic monster yesterday and my Mom called. She asks, ‘ What are you doing?’ ‘I’m making an Independence Cake!’ To which she replies, ‘ So am I – and so’s your Grandmother!’
Yes, ladies. Unity. If you have not made this with your Mom, you Have Not Lived. This cold white cake boasts (YES. IT BOASTS, okay? literally) whipped cream frosting and fresh fruit, and is guaranteed to threaten to fall out of the fridge before consumed. Nothing says freedom like a cake that – somehow – magically -comes from a box. So easy, your boyfriend can help.
For a more tolerant Cake of Independence Cake, substitute ‘brown’ cake for ‘white’ cake.
Next up, We’ve got Charlie the Bunny Cake. Nothing Says ‘He is Risen’ like an edible rabbit appendage. Fanbase, look closely.
You’ll notice that it’s secretly two round cakes: one for the face – and the other is cut to make two ears and – goddamnit – A BOW TIE. It’s important that this cake be named Charlie, every year. I don’t know why. To give the illusion of fur, mix coconut into the icing. It is also important that you eat about 8,000 starburst jelly beans during the creation of Your New Friend. It is then important to Eat his Face.
Next up, we have the ‘My little brother is going to Boot Camp so let’s get him nice and chubs before he Leaves and goes to Boot Camp which is really Strange to Imagine and sounds pretty terrible Oh Well I guess I’ll just make a cake’ Cake.
The marine corps emblem is NOT edible.
Some sort of marble effect occured with this cake that I don’t really recall, but I think I was trying to create some sort of metaphor for the blurred lines of his sexuality.
This next cake section is not for the faint of heart. It is dedicated to my friend Michael Mason, who enjoys Sleeping in My Bathtub, Bagels, and Vaginas. Naturally, for his birthday in 05, Amy and I decided that this was an appropriate gift. Notice yet another clever usage of the coconut.
The following year, I decided to PG my Michael Mason cake of Choice, which looked like this.
Okay, i can’t find it right now. It looked like a bagel. For real.
Here’s this one instead: made for one Ms. Erin McCarson, who thoroughly enjoys pink things, gummy things, and being paid attention to, so this lil beaut went over swell.
Wow, faithful admirers: this is sad. As I dig through the derge (derge? what? okay. derge) that are my photo’s, I’m realizing how many pictures of cake I have. Technically I am ‘working’ now so this might have to be a two part instillation.
But let me leave you with this inspirational thought: cakes are awesome, easy to make. Just think of a few things you know your subject likes: and attempt to create it, via the cake. The person will feel honored, chubby and loved.
Don’t just do it, do it!