I decided to post this in both of my blogs, this one and my personal one, Divine Tension. I figured my readers of each might as well know both aspects of me, which really aren't separate, of course.
Hello, it's me. I can't sleep. I noticed, when I got up after trying
to sleep for a few hours, that the lights are on in my neighbor's
house, as well. I imagine there are many who cannot sleep and this isn't
something new, of course. But it is dark out in the world, much darker
than I, for one, am used to.
I'm not naive. I've been a radical
thinker from an early age, and I pay attention. I care about justice. I
care about things that are life-affirming, both concrete and abstract
things, and these are some times when it is impossible to rest easy. I
knew the future would not be pretty, but I did fail to prepare for how
fast and how hard it would come down on us.
I have this little
thing I do, that I've done for almost 40 years, called the Jell-O Art
Show. I write about it in my other blog, Gelatinaceae, which gets a lot
more readers than this one does, because it is about art, and joy.
Jell-O Art is a particularly joyful art form, silly, beautiful, awkward,
glorious, and many times, jiggly and slippery and super uncooperative.
It's the reason I call myself an artist, when in my profession I am a
crafter, a production worker, a screenprinter and not all that skilled
of one, despite doing it for my whole working life. I'm self-taught, so
I'm just a worker. I like work and I am diligent, and I've done well
with it in a limited and sustainable way.
But Jell-O Art is
different. Producing and being in the Jell-O Art show engages all of me.
Over the years I learned how to be an artist, how to imagine and
conceptualize, how to find the deeper levels, how to put my whole self
in and shake myself about. Every year I spend the three winter months of
January through March working more or less full time on the Jell-O Art
Show. Not only do I work out some kind of personal piece, which is an
expression of something about my life or self, but I have been lucky
enough to work with a very dear group of people called the Radar
Angels.
The individual Angels have come and go, and while there
are still a few of us from the beginning in the late 70s and early 80s,
it's an ever-changing group. We work in a process that is purely
collaborative, with everyone pooling their talents to make something out
of what we all bring. We brainstorm for a few weeks about what we want
our show to be about. We throw out tons of ideas, and gradually we
coalesce into something we all agree we want to say, using parody songs
and a type of melodrama that is generally only a little bit serious.
You
can go to my other blog for about 15 or so years of what that has been
about. In 2012 I was crowned as the Queen of Jell-O Art in recognition
of how seriously I take Jell-O, and how important it is to me, and that
just fueled this deeper appreciation I have for it and brought me into
the role of bringing that passion and creative force to the public in
the form of the show.
Now I generally write the bones of the
script, which we develop together, and we choose the songs to fit and
write our lines and pick our characters and figure out our costumes and I
make a lot of the props and set pieces and we all work for the last few
weeks to pull it all together to present it. This Saturday is when we
will be doing it.
Because these times have been so dark, and we
are all of a mind about them, we did something we have always made
ourselves avoid for the most part: we got political. We had to. Three of
us even decided to play a few of the current archvillains of our times.
We chose three out of the many, many that we could have chosen, and for
each of us, it is not easy to do. We don't want to come on stage as
racists, nazis, psychopaths and evil men. We don't even want to play
men! This year in a weird twist, all of our actors are women, and all of
our characters are men. At least they start out as men.
One of
the themes we wanted to work on was gender...we wanted to explore
honoring multiple genders and the fluidity of them, to have a world
where that was open for people to be free about it, and make our
statement of acceptance of it, but as the show developed we kind of
stopped thinking about it. We just acted like people...as if gender
didn't even exist. It just occurred to me tonight that we did that. It's a
metaphor really, that if there was that openness (WHICH THERE IS!)
everyone would live like that.
So that's operating. And in coming
on stage, generally, we Angels feel loved. Our audience is the best.
They always approve of whatever we do, our mostly amateur singing and
presentation, our ridiculous costumes, our dumb jokes and sometimes
stale humor. Our obvious theme is always Jell-O saves the world, no
matter how much we try to say something else. It just comes out like
that.
But this time, Jell-O is a very weak weapon against the
world. We are coming on stage to be hated, the three of us who are
playing the billionaires. Really hated. We hate ourselves even. Yet we
will sing and dance and pretend at the end that we are transformed and
we hope to leave the audience feeling loved and ourselves, at least as
the people we really are, back to feeling loved.
There is not any
hope that the characters will be loved, no matter how much they are
transformed, because no, they will not get what they deserve, they will
not be stopped or even aware of our little play and our sad and profound
comedy. We will have our little moments of joy, our escape, but it will
not be fully satisfying when we walk off the stage and back into the
dark world we are living through.
That's life I suppose. As an old
person, when I look back at the brief times when things were going well
and the culture was opening and affirming, it was never that for
everyone. Black people were still being killed by the police and
racists, different people of all kinds were still being othered, poor
people were still being starved and caused to suffer and being deprived
of their humanity. It has never been a pretty world, except of course
for the birds and trees and flowing waters and incredible kindnesses and
soft hearts and all that everyone attempts to create and hold sacred
for themselves and each other.
It's enough to keep you up late
every night, isn't it? It's enough to make you dissolve in wonder for
your whole life, and then when you get old, like I have, it's enough to
make you weep for the wasted moments and lost opportunities and very
short time left to have some more.
This is my late night Jell-O Art world, friends. Maybe I can sleep now. Maybe I have had enough, for now. I am pretty sure the light will come back in the morning so I can work some more. I will never lose hope.