The use of a mirrored back in the full-height cabinet closest to the entry produces the uncanny effect of the appearance of one’s own reflection within the meat display. I’m not sure if this is intended, but the feeling of being both a viewer and an object of viewing is reinforced by the appearance of the self in the screens above the arrayed surveillance cameras. Trained on a single product, their view is wide enough to capture onlookers. On top of this, while the butchers work behind glass, they are equally able to watch customers. The effect, like meat itself, is somewhat paradoxical, but always theatrical.
Overall, Victor Churchill is a serious essay in butchery as high art, pitched at a well-heeled clientele. Yet while the interior conveys luxury in its materials and finishes, it does so with an intensity that is uncomfortably visceral. The very recognizable parts of animals, amongst which one’s reflection appears, make it impossible to forget the origins of meat and our own carnality. Perhaps to lighten the mood the design includes kitsch sausage-link door and cabinet handles. For me, these are instances where the design overstates its themes and threatens to undo the very mood of anticipation it has set up, but for those who shop here frequently, this footnote to carnage-made-elegant may be what makes the tension pleasurable.