As you can see I put some cutlery under the plastic to keep the two from running together, and because the lids are not flat, it moves around a lot for effects I like. I tilt it to enhance that and prevent really thick parts in the middle. I stuck one piece of already dried stuff up at the top left just to use it up. I haven't always used the plastic but I like it. The gelatin releases easily and you can flip it without tearing it up by mistake. I just cut up a plastic bag but I tried the packaged wrap too and it's doable.
These already dried ones don't look amazing to me but the full effect of them together will probably be fine. I'm planning to fasten them at the bottom to a piece of plastic netting I already had hanging around with some turquoise gelatin already embedded in it, so it will be strong at the bottom for moving around. I may abandon that plan if it looks too weird. Will probably add some green.
I'm setting that aside for now to work on cardboard and paper props I also have in my mental gallery. I love having a visual formed for what I expect to make, a gift of my brain that pleases me. I've learned that what I end up with rarely approaches my visual idea, but that is an interesting challenge too, to see if I can figure out how to align my skills with my ideas. I well remember this frustration from my early days as an artist, which I guess starts to kick in during childhood when we start to make ambitious art. I'm so glad I didn't give up like so many kids do, and I thank my Mom, not my art teacher, for loving what I made and saving some of it for me, as she consistently did. After I had a mean first grade teacher, I never took any classes until I was an adult, and then only a couple. No doubt I have a lot of untapped potential but that's the way our life choices work out.
I have an autobiographical piece I did when I had a broken foot I had to elevate, something I did to keep busy, which turned out to be my favorite piece ever and something I usually bring to every show. I call it an artist's book, a genre I love and have a huge desire to explore. As you may know that is an open art form that doesn't have to be a real book, but this one does have pages and a story, so.
The story is that Jell-O made me an artist. I was working at art when I got to Eugene in my twenties, but I had no formal training and had avoided taking classes in school and had no confidence. I just kept making things and trying to sell them at Saturday Market, plus giving them to Mom. She had a nice collection of Mother's Day cards I sent home from my travels. When I met the women who became the Radar Angels, they kindly took me in and persisted in making me feel welcome despite my resistance, and the first Jell-O Art Show in 1988 was pivotal. Showing what I made in a gallery was a big step up, and Jell-O Art had a wonderful freedom. There is no critical structure for it, no credentials, no judges, prizes, evaluation. It stands on its own and says what it wants. I remember listening to people who were looking at it as I lurked, which I still do when I can.
This was all so affirmative I just kept at it, and my offerings at Market also expanded as I gained skill and ambition and made a life in art production. I painted a lot of signs, was fascinated by lettering and also fabric, paper, and woodworking, and just made whatever I wanted for all of these decades in a mix of stuff I could sell and stuff I made anyway if it didn't sell. It wasn't always great and there were always times I was very disappointed (some of my clients were, too.) But I'd just go on to the next thing.
With the annual Jell-O Show, I really got deeply into the exploration and joy and did a lot of writing about it too. Learned to screenprint and made a million t-shirts and paper things, but Jell-O was the only place I didn't have to answer to anyone's expectations. This freed me to actually do what real artists do and after probably at least 20 years I discovered I actually was a Real Artist.
It took so long for a lot of reasons: shedding the idea that credentials were necessary, figuring out what made me real, allowing myself to not care about external validation. It was a very personal journey and I wrote about it a lot, so you can go back to the earlier posts if you like that sort of writing. Becoming crowned the Queen was pivotal in adding in that social piece where I had a bigger role, promoting art and artists and actively encouraging other people to free themselves. I even mentored a couple of kids and did quite a lot of volunteering in school when my son was young, probably preventing him from doing it in some ways but you never know when someone will decide to be creative. I'm sure he'll find his own areas of creation to fill in his own life. There's no shortage of ways to do it out there.
We had an interesting discussion one night about how gaming taps into that when you get fascinated by a game that some brilliant person or team created for you to play. You're participating in an essential way with what they are making, just like the people who come to the Jell-O Art Show are an important part of what we do there. I reflect on that often when we gather to write and practice the performance part, which I only started to do in 2013 after I was made Queen.
I had always wanted to sing with the Angels but thought my stage fright would be too debilitating. I sang plenty, even as part of a garage band for a couple of years, but there was never an audience (not a sober one anyway) and I downplayed my abilities and contained my desire. I decided as Queen to try to do it, and again the Angels said the right things to support me and I found my place. I love to write so now I put together a good part of the script and help us channel all of our brainstormed ideas into a somewhat coherent narrative. It's really top tier fun to collaborate with smart and funny people and the whole process is maybe the most fun thing I do. I don't love performing, but one thing I said in passing last night was that I love to be clever in public. Everyone is so kind to me in the process, the whole audience just beams their delight up at us no matter what, and it goes by so fast at the show that I always cry at the end. The next day is always disappointing when it is over for a year and I put it all away.
So it's a good week in my Jell-O Art world. The script is almost finished, our singing was really fun last night, and we feel like we always do...this is going to be the best show ever. It's one of our running jokes. The old shows fade from my memory fast, but the spontaneity is something to remember when I think I might be too bored with Jell-O to keep going with it.
Laughing at yourself is a good thing to learn to do in life. Kind of helps balance those moments when your friends and relatives laugh at you. I don't always remember to tell people how deeply meaningful the life of a Jell-O Artist actually is. There's a lot more to it than you might expect. Make some Jell-O tonight!
Oh, and I meant to say, if you want to work in the jiggly realm with real Jell-O, just try the Jigglers recipe which is usually on the box. It's simply less water. With Jell-O brand, you can use hot water as they direct, because it's engineered for it with sugar and other things that need to dissolve. That firmness gives you a more sturdy result that you can cut and get out of molds easier, but also feel free to use the regular recipe for the ultimate amount of jiggle. It doesn't keep well, so your final piece might have to be kind of last minute, but you could always eat your prior experiments if you want to. It's not really food, in my opinion, but a lot of people sure love it.
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