Why So Cute... and Gruesome?!

Author: Jenivieve Design (Jen)

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 (as I could only wish that I did). 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 necessarilybe 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 "All Dogs Go to Heaven" or "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)
The Narnia Series	Edgar Allan Poe - especially "The Pit and the Pendulum", but also "The Black Cat", "The Tell-Tale Heart", and "The Raven"

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 there! I’m Jeni and I like making gruesomely cute stuff.

Now, with 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

FAQs that answer some of your WTF questions :)

Newer Post >

Is it a Rut or a Recharge? (Part 1)

By Jeni Hernandez • May 28, 2024

Welcome to my Creative Rut (again) I have been here so many times before — it used to happen every 2 months, but now I can expect about two weeks of downtime for every three weeks of creativity. Even though this is predictable and regular, I only became aware of how my creativity ebbs and flows in the last six months. Just as in Groundhog Day when Bill Murray’s character wakes up with surprise each time his day repeats, I’ve been surprised when I fall into the rut again, regardless of the how many times its happened. However, unlike good ‘ol Bill, I didn’t get used to it — let alone master it. At the beginning of my Mused State, I am capable of creating with absolute abandon. The creative connections in my brain feel like they sparkle and zap with energy. New materials fire me up. I am just a channel for this creative energy pouring through my veins, and I feel like each new work of art is a little creation who I am simply discovering, rather than shaping. The back-to-back dopamine hits are my high and I am living for it. Then the low arrives. Like I said; this used to surprise me. I was on fire! Why did it end? What did I do wrong? Will the Muse every return to bless me? Have I been forsaken of all creative energy, forever? This used to take me to a bland low where I beat myself up for losing it again: I’m a failure. I have no idea why I create in the first place. I feel nothing but remorse; I have lost my joy and I don’t know if I’ll find it again. Boy that escalated, right? I used to wallow in that state for weeks or even months, then the Muse would show up again and I’d once more feel like I was ALIVE. I’m here to share that we all have these ebbs and flows and they are natural. Better yet, I have found some methods to work through them. These skills may not work for everyone, but look at yourself as a science experiment — try things until you find the thing that works for you. Recharging in the Rut Method 1: Track the frequency and prepare Discover how often you can expect yourself to fall into the rut. It’s empowering — once it isn’t a surprise, you can ready yourself for it. For example, I know that for every three weeks of inspiration I delight in, there will be 2-3 weeks of downtime after. I no longer beat myself up for this. In fact I feel it coming on like a cold and, as I do, I increase my self care proportionately. I don’t mourn the “loss”; that is a completely incorrect label — it’s actually a period of recharging. My body has been running high on dopamine and endorphins for three weeks, and now my supply is getting low. Once my body is done restocking, I can start the loop again. Realizing the frequency of this experience has made me more self-aware and less self-critical when the recharge strikes. Method 2: Get abstract for awhile I went about a decade without drawing, in spite of the fact I’d previously drawn almost every day of my life. I shifted my creativity to other things like writing music and filming during that era. In the meantime, my drawing skills atrophied so badly that when I tried to pick up a pen again, I felt dead inside. I felt the pull to create, but it had no form. The idea of drawing people, animals, or flowers sounded daunting and exhausting (even though I loved drawing those subjects previously). So instead, I started splashing watercolors onto paper and discovering the naturally occurring shapes therein. Chance gave me the form, so I didn’t have to. After about a year of this, I had fully recuperated my various multimedia techniques and had rebuilt my drawing muscles in my right hand, too. I was able and ready to give form to my ideas again: Cats and bunnies! And then from there, Gruesome Cuties!

Why do I need to put my art into the world?

By Jeni Hernandez • May 25, 2024

Why do I publish what I create? I’ve been asking myself this question for months. At baseline, I recognize that the act of being creative meets a critical need for my brain to be happy. Creativity and innovation are like an illness that — if I bottle it up in my body — I’ll eventually need to vomit it out. So in that respect, releasing it is an act of self-care and a necessity for wellbeing. That said, once I have extracted the benefit of creation from my art, I could just stick my creations on my wall or in a drawer. Instead, I desire to put my work online and sell it. Why do I feel the need to do that, if the sheer act of creation is enough? Isn’t it…? My desire to publish my art is evolving. I explored the possibilities that maybe I wanted to make money from them, or because I wanted dopamine hits from the appreciation of others on social media, but I don’t feel like either of those are the complete answer — they are peripheral benefits. There’s something else driving me that I haven’t been able to quite name, and it has really bothered me. It’s a weird feeling when you live in your one-and-only brain every single day, yet discover that you don’t know the reason it likes to behave in a particular way. I’ve lived in this brain my whole life — how do I not know every nook and cranny?! With the creation of my Gruesome Cuties, I have finally realized why I enjoy putting my art out there: I like setting my art free to grow in the lore that others’ perspectives grant to it. I love the connections developed by those experiences. Until now, my old style of art did not offer that kind of connection. My illustrations were cute, but they did not inspire any further feelings in my viewers. Not so with my Gruesome Cuties! Ohhhhh boy, do people have things to say! Breathing life into art Art takes on a life of its own when people start expressing the feelings it elicits. The Gruesome Cuties have garnered some of the most hilarious feedback I’ve received regarding my creations. Unlike my previous happy-go-lucky cartoon illustrations, these gruesome little sculptures draw a visceral gut reaction from people—whether they like it or hate it, they feel something strongly, and I am so here for it: “[It’s] Sid the sloth after a transporter accident” “Thanks I hate it! (In the best way, they’re really well done!)” “Using your own molars is a unique level of commitment” "These would make great bathroom tiles! Could you imagine, a whole shower lined with these guys...." "First time bringing home a date, 'Darling, would you like to join me in the shower?'" “Wow that's wild, looks like a bar of soap. ‘Hunny did you buy a different brand of soap?... cause it's talking to me’ haha” “Lots of guys would like that bar of soap. Just sayin.” “I’d be terrified it would eat whatever the hell I was trying to wash with it.” …....?! First of all--HAAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA, I love Reddit! 😆 Second of all-- If I don’t put my art into the world, it only has the meaning I gave it upon creation. It stops growing, and therefore it stops living. If I release it into the world to entertain and/or horrify my fellow humans, my art takes on a new lore that I cannot give it with my single perspective, alone. Like the electricity with which Dr. Frankenstein jolted his monster, my viewers breathe life into my creations. A satisfying answer (for me) So I think I’ve finally found the reason why I keep putting my stuff out there, and I feel a little more comfortable in my own brain now that I understand why it’s cares to keep trying. I’m on the edge of my seat, eager to hear the stories my creatures inspire as they take on their own life and lore. It’s nice to know this is a delight and a drive for me, as a creative. If you’ve contributed to their stories, thank you!!! You are giving my art the life I hoped for it, no matter how cute or gruesome that story may be! 🤗 -Jen