On Saturday night, I found myself at the Maude Kerns Art Center contemplating a virus made out of Jell-O. It was a sort of clear Jell-O mold filled with green fruit and covered in artfully placed red licorice, and it looked astoundingly similar to the pictures of viruses in my high school biology textbook.
The virus was one of about 15 works of Jell-O art on display last weekend at the 22nd annual Jell-O Art Show. Other notable pieces included two lamp shades, a Chinese lantern and a Twister mat, all made out of the popular colored gelatin.
As I am particularly unsophisticated where art is concerned, an evening of prodding Jell-O molds and hearing Eugene’s infamous Slug Queen speak aligned nicely with my cultural sensibilities.
The show was sponsored by the MKAC and the Radar Angels, which long-time group member Indi Stern-Hayworth described as “a loosely knit organization of women who like to do silly stuff.”
Stern-Hayworth, who goes by the Radar Angels name “Radar-Active,” told me that the Jell-O Art Show is an informal kickoff to Eugene’s spring and summer arts season.
A standard Eugene crowd packed into the tiny art center — about one-third college students, one-third families and one-third weird art aficionados who were wearing berets (Radar-Active wore a red one).
Before we left the dorms, my friend and I worried that our jeans and T-shirts might not be formal enough for an evening art show. We had forgotten that we live in Eugene. If anything, we were not dressed appropriately goofy.
Patrons wore everything from bunny ears to a sequined gold jumpsuit, but there wasn’t a cocktail dress in sight.
Three former Slug Queens glided through the crowd wearing towering wigs, sashes and outlandish Slug Queen dresses.
A little girl in fairy wings with her face painted and hair dyed pink was dressed to match my favorite work of Jell-O art, which appeared to be a celebration of the aforementioned color. It was a tray of pink Jell-O cupcakes surrounded by an array of pink marshmallow Peeps, pink Jell-O molds, glasses of pink Jell-O and pink rhododendrons.
The pink-bedecked girl’s mother, Julie Nothwang, said they based their entry on the children’s book “Pinkalicious.”
“It’s about a girl who turns pink after eating too many pink cupcakes,” said Nothwang, who also dressed for the occasion in a tiara and humongous pink petticoat. She entered her first Jell-O art in the show 14 years ago when she was a University freshman.
As promised, Queen Anislugsia, Eugene’s “raining” Slug Queen, delivered a gracious benediction. He praised the artist’s creativity and included references to Easter and his city’s liberal tendencies.
“If the bunny comes out of its hole tomorrow and sees the sun,” said a solemn Anislugsia, “we’ll have another 2,000 years of conservative fundamentalist hell.”
Queen Anislugsia, who is actor Mark VanBeever on his off days, turned out to be quite charming. He admitted that he’s “never been a fan” of Jell-O as a dessert, but he still called the art show “fabulous.”
“There are such funny things you can make out of Jell-O,” VanBeever said with a gleeful laugh.
Chatting with the Slug Queen made me think about Eugene’s delightfully awkward culture.
Life in Eugene is a bit off-beat and entirely paradoxical. It’s Jell-O lamp shades, an impressively glamorous Slug Queen and Saturday night spent at an art gallery.
Ours is a city where formality is almost always odd and oddity is almost always taken for granted. If there is no “Keep Eugene Weird” campaign, perhaps it’s because nothing threatens Eugene’s unpretentious and unconventional vibe.
The Jell-O Art Show, as Radar-Active told me, is a promise of art and culture to come when the rain stops — the Saturday Market, First Friday Art Walks and the Oregon Country Fair.
These are events I don’t want to miss, even though my artistic tastes remain entirely unrefined. Eugene events blend music, art and food so calmly that even the most low-key among us can appreciate the city’s dynamic art scene.
For example, there was a “Tacky Food Buffet” for those who felt hungry after an evening of Jell-O art. The featured dish was tofu hot dog slices stuffed with spaghetti, served with creamed corn, pickle sauce and beef chocolate creme.
Of course, Jell-O was also on the table, but the strawberry Jell-O salad didn’t please everyone.
“I wish they had more Jell-O snacks,” muttered a man in patchwork pants as he surveyed the food table. I suppose everyone experiences Jell-O artwork in their own way. For me, the Jell-O virus marked the end of my fruit gelatin-eating years. I have no desire to eat Jell-O ever again.
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