Why So Cute... and Gruesome?!
Author: Jeni Niquette
The perfect story
As a teen, I loved writing sci-fi fiction stories. I tended to project myself into my lead characters and they reflected the perfectionism that I, myself, struggled with — I made them perfect in every way I was not. They always had an answer for every problem, the perfect reaction to the troubles they faced. Therefore the struggles in my stories were short-lived and my characters were flat, uber-capable, and utterly unrelatable. (Note: This was the same Jeni who passionately despised sad movie endings, haha.)
It wasn’t until after I had lived some life — and learned enough to know I knew nothing — that I realized story characters must necessarily be flawed to be relatable and interesting. It was then I began to appreciate “right” movie and book endings.
As I’ve aged, made mistakes, and gained life experiences across the spectrum of positive to negative, I’ve grown as a writer and storyteller, as well as a holistic person. That said, I recently realized the characters in my art are still pretty perfect. Always adorable, always hopeful, always positive, always optimistic, always loving, always kind, always bright. Always a little too "perfect".
Just like the “me” I portrayed in public until 2022.
Toxic optimism
Looking back, I suspect my constant optimism and enthusiasm were probably annoying to some people. It makes me a little sad to realize I was inadvertently setting such an unrealistic standard for behavior and emotion that wasn’t actually attainable or sustainable. And you know what? It ultimately led to my total burnout in 2022. I mentally, emotionally and physically crashed so hard, my body flipped on the switch for fibromyalgia and my brain started getting migraines. Debilitating outcomes from my cherished perfectionism that I still struggle with today, two years later.
An eternally “can-do-no-matter-what” attitude is an unrealistic way to live, in life or career.
Since then, I’ve had a year and a half of hard self-reflection as I’ve learned to live with my new health issues. I’m definitely not the unrealistic optimist that I used to be; chronic pain is teaching me that sometimes you don’t have enough “spoons" in a day. It’s also teaching me empathy for others who deal with chronic pain — I understand it much better now, and I hold tenderness in my heart for anyone who shares their chronic pain struggles with me.
I’m still hopeful, but not so hopeful I put my health or personal safety at risk. My newly-formed realism reminds me that people don’t always have your best good at heart; the world is often a sad broken place; you actually may not be capable of everything you put your mind to. And my now-healthy optimism says that there are still good people, there are moments of hope that sparkle in spite of the darkness, and if you try something new, you just might succeed.
Imagined expectations
So, out of a desire to try something new, I recently wondered what I would try to create if I wasn’t worrying about my perception of others’ perception of me and my art. To-date, I have created things that give me joy, of course, but —
I’ve still been creating what I expect other people expect me to create.
Now — who knows if my perception of others’ expectations is even correct? I’ve been literally limiting my creativity based on the imagined perception of others’ expectations. Like—wut?? And this perception has invisibly limited my creativity my entire life, keeping it in a happy, colorful little box.
So, I got some air clay and acrylic resin teeth replicas a month ago and began creating some of the weirdest, most adorably gruesome cuties I’ve had the delight to sculpt. They are not perfect. They have all kinds of baffling expressions, simultaneously cute and disturbing. They have uneven skin and misaligned teeth. Some of them cry tears of blood and drool green saliva. My newest creations even have bloody crystals exploding through ripped skin.
And I love these creations most of all.
I have never before taken such joy in my art.
I am light and dark
The closer we get to creating authentically, the more vulnerable we become. As an artist, this is the most vulnerable I’ve ever felt. I’m creating knowing I may be the only one who understands what I’m doing or why I’m doing it.
I am more complex than the person I previously limited myself to appear as, based on what I expected others to expect (and welcome) of me and my personality. The truth is, I’m not all sparkles and rainbows — and I never was.
As a matter of fact, I love all kinds of opposing and conflicting things, like…
| The light | The dark |
|---|---|
| Cuteness that makes me involuntarily coo | Horror movies that leave me unsettled |
| Natural and organic textures | Graphic or industrial harsh shapes |
| Neon, glowing, bright colors | Black and white with a single accent color |
| Disney movies (Ariel is my princess) | Don Bluth movies (like The Secret of Nim!!) |
| Encouraging heroes (Kate Bishop is adorable) | Complex villains (I’m looking at you, Loki) |
| Happy endings (Like The Princess Bride) | “Right” endings, including unhappy ones (Europa is my all-time favorite sci-fi movie) |
I am finally beginning to embrace the duality of being human. I am both light and shadow, and up to this point I have only let people see the light — even in my artwork: The perfectionistic, super-enthusiastic, and unrealistically happy light version of me.
So hi! I’m Jeni and I like making gruesomely cute stuff.
That said...
The light must temper the dark
My light limits me, but now it’s in a healthy way. For example, the grim part of my creativity would love to use real teeth in my artwork. But the light part of my creativity demands I only do so ethically.
I could easily buy real animal or human teeth online, but I will only do so if it is ethically-sourced.
Therefore, I will never buy animal teeth unless they are fossilized — anything else might be obtained at the expense of a living creature’s suffering. I will also never buy human teeth unless it is verified dental waste from local dentists; I mean, who even knows what suffering could be in the history of those teeth, otherwise?
I can’t enjoy the darkness knowing I sacrificed my light.
They must always balance each other. Balance is good.
So here I am, flaws and all
Isn’t it funny that we, as individuals, know that we personally grow over time — and yet we still (might) expect others to remain exactly as we remember them to be? It’s a double-standard, but it exists in our brains sometimes.
Peeps, I am a complex person. I am weird. I may not be who you expect me to be anymore. If this disappoints you, that’s okay. No offense, but I can’t keep anticipating the disappointment of others and letting that guide my choices as a person or an artist. I’m realizing I can’t make everyone else happy and make myself happy at the same time.
I do hope you like who I am becoming. I hope you like what I am doing. I just also hope it weirds you out a little, challenges you to feel something unexpected; that it even gives you a strong sense of “WTF?”. And if you despise my art, that’s alright with me — hey, I still got a strong gut reaction out of ya, huh?
You know, the disappointed person reading this might also just be a figment of my imagination. Regardless, I’m kinda excited to freely and wildly disappoint — I’m not disappointing myself anymore.
If you’re planning to stick around through the weirdness, then thanks for getting to know the rest of me!
-Jen
PS: If you’re feeling adventurous, feel free to get a little gruesome here :)
