Sharona franklin on her enchanting edible art, disability erasure, and the importance of natural elements in her work
Sharona Franklin by Rashelle Campbell
“Now what food do we feed women as artists upon?” poses Virginia Woolf’s fictional narrator in “A Room of One’s Own.” The essay is Woolf’s argument that great works of writing and art are created dependent on the artist’s conditions and limitations. One cannot create art without access to nutritious meals, financial security, and, of course, a room of one’s own with the space and tools required to produce it. In this way, pertinent to the time the essay was written but still relevant today, women especially are vulnerable to the constraints of their time, space, and wealth (or lack thereof). When this idea unfurls to include and consider the disadvantages of marginalized groups, complexity ensues. Sharona Franklin, a 32-year-old disabled artist from Vancouver, Canada has been working both against and in coexistence with her physical disabilities for the majority of her life to create meaningful art, only to have Italian fashion house, Gucci – valued at $18.6 billion –seemingly rip off her work with their Cruise 2020 campaign.
Paid Technologies is the look-and-please-touch of fine art. Sharona Franklin creates intricate cakes, or “edible sculptures,” composed with gelatin encasing various botanicals, fruits, and miscellaneous edibles and inedibles. In one “psychedelic” creation, Franklin made an Aleppo pepper, ginger, cayenne, cocoa, and vanilla melt cake with candied ginger buttercream, and both ginger beer and lychee basil seed gelatin molds. In another, a bright, sea foam green jelly formed in the traditional gelatin mold shape defies lime expectations with the botanical, acquired taste of anise-sweet-Absinthe. If one were to ingest high doses of thujone, the hallucinogenic component of wormwood in Absinthe, I imagine you would be taken to a world with tables upon tables of Franklin’s creations – a fantastical Mad Tea-Party down the rabbit hole. In Franklin’s world, even the grotesque becomes a source of beauty and intrigue: namely, a wild rainbow smoked trout with pancetta, olives, lemon, carrot, capers, and sage in a rosemary chili broth encased in an orange blossom, lime, and flower jelly.
On the importance of gelatin in her work, Franklin states, “I had been making Jell-O since I could pour cereal. Then when I became really severely ill when I was 11, I knew it was good for connective tissue and bones, so I always ate a lot of it. As I got older and started studying more natural medicine, I learned more and more about different herbs. I’d include those in the gelatin and I’d make little gummies that I would eat. I think it’s really interesting in the past five to eight years how bone broth has blown up, but then gelatin is still scoffed at as this disgusting form of domestic practice when really it’s actually a super condensed form of nutrients and amino acids like cysteine and lysine. I was interested in the transparency of it too, in that it’s such a disrespected form of art when resin art is so popular in so many different forms when it’s such a toxic material, but something that’s biodegradable and potentially healing for people to ingest and art that can be consumed as a food product is being so oddly stigmatized because of the classic history of it with females.”
Franklin is in touch with the natural world throughout the entire process of conceptualizing and creating her cakes. Drawing attention away from the human form and towards animals, plants, and mythological symbols is at the core of their formation. “I read a lot of science articles and science journals,” she says, elaborating on her biggest inspirations. “I’m really inspired by books. I like to read books on different botanicals, and different forms of cooking and medicine, things like that. I’m interested in the combinations of bionics and the natural, so organic formation mixed with more technological formations.”
The properties of the cakes reflect her interest and application of Chinese herbal medicine. “When I make jellies for myself,” she says, “I make them based on the herbs that I think my body needs at the time. I’ll use chrysanthemum for cooling, or aloe vera gel, or fresh, edible aloe vera. If I feel like I need detoxifying, I’ll use nettle tea jelly.”
With the aesthetically pleasing and photogenic quality of Franklin’s cakes, reminiscent of both a nostalgic past-time and looking forward to the inventive distant future, it’s no wonder that her Instagram page, @Paid.Technologies caught the eye of Gucci’s production team. After receiving a few vague direct messages that Franklin wrote off as spam, on May 9th, she received an email from one Trevor De Cotta of Simmons Ltd, a design company based in the United Kingdom. De Cotta does not reveal his client initially, but asks Franklin if she would be interested in working on a project with a “large Italian fashion house.” Apprehensively, Franklin responds on May 11th, intrigued but requesting more information. De Cotta responds on May 12th stating that the project is “really exciting,” asking to schedule a call with Franklin to further discuss it, and notes that he will send her a Non-Disclosure Agreement the following day.
In the midst of working to schedule a call, a woman named Sibilla Pirola, an art buyer and creative production manager at Gucci, reached out to Franklin on May 17th and attached the NDA which she was to sign in order to continue with the project. Notably, in her email, Pirola states, “Nice to meet you (just virtually for now)!” seemingly signifying that the two would, at some point, meet in person. That same day, De Cotta emailed Franklin in order to push back their scheduled phone conference, and Franklin returned the signed NDA. After a short game of email-tag in trying to schedule a time to speak on the phone, there’s a period of non-responsiveness from Gucci’s players. Franklin emails both Pirola and De Cotta on May 20th noting that she is free to talk later that same afternoon. Over a week later, on May 29th, De Cotta and Franklin finally set up a time to speak later that day.
During this conversation, and throughout all other communications, Franklin purposefully avoided noting her disabilities to the Gucci team. “I didn’t disclose that I was disabled,” she said, “I actually had a friend who was going to assist me for free, and she assists me a lot. She took that week off for work, the first week of July, because [the project] was supposed to be between the 2nd and the 6th. Her and I discussed it, and I was like, ‘Should I tell them I’m disabled straight up? I don’t really want to do that because so many people have canceled on me once they find out, or not wanted to give me an opportunity, and I would rather not lose this opportunity. They’ll maybe find out if they look me up.’”
It does seem unlikely that throughout all of their communications, and within the current climate of unexpected scandal revealed through social media, that a team behind one of the largest fashion houses in the world would not thoroughly vet each individual person they plan to work with. Though the Instagram for Paid Technologies is comprised solely of Franklin’s gelatin creations, she maintains a separate personal Instagram account on which she posts about her disabilities and illnesses and shares separate artwork celebrating the two. It’s not difficult to link the two accounts and figure out that they are run by the same person. The reason for maintaining two separate accounts is that aforementioned fear of being excluded from projects based on her disabilities.
“Being a creative person and an artist, in any aspect as a paid employee, I’ve always had to hide my ability levels and my disabilities for fear of losing opportunities,” Franklin said. “I figured that for me, my cakes are the most digestible form of my art. Separating that [from my personal page] I hoped would give me more opportunities than my personal Instagram where people would see that I’m disabled and probably doubt my abilities to create things.”
After explaining to De Cotta that she would need two days prior to the shoot to create the jellies, on June 10th, Franklin follows up again in an email hoping to solidify travel plans, as the date of the project was quickly approaching. She also asks for the contract and terms of the agreement, and notes that she’s looking forward to the project. On June 19th, she sends another follow up email. Then, on the 21st, she sends another. Finally, De Cotta responds, stating, “Due to the budget they are looking in to someone else to execute this in Europe , as I mentioned initially we were speaking to a few people about the jelly concept. Unfortunately we can make it work this time, perhaps there may be something in the future.” [sic]. All spelling, punctuation, and grammar errors are De Cotta’s, alongside the many spelling and grammar errors that are present throughout both De Cotta’s and Pirola’s email exchanges with Franklin. Most notable in this final email from De Cotta is his insistence that he had initially mentioned that the Gucci team was searching for other gelatin artists, and that Franklin was merely a contender for the project. This was never suggested in any of the exchanges.
If the ending of this story was merely the disappointment that Franklin felt over being excluded from a project she was looking forward to, perhaps this would not be written at all. Perhaps I could afford more words to the delicacy and ingenuity of the art itself, something I’m completely fascinated with, alongside the tens of thousands of Franklin’s fans rallying behind her. However, on September 30th, in the midst of promoting their Cruise 2020 collection on Instagram, Gucci posted three images of gelatin molds, encasing and adorned with flowers, situated on vintage platters – a watered down replication of the artwork they had spoken to Franklin about creating for the same project not four months before. To further drive the knife in, Gucci posted the photos with captions describing the concept of colorful gelatin being served at ‘70s dinner parties – a concept that Franklin had discussed as her inspiration during the phone conversation with De Cotta. “As I said on the phone, I’m inspired by subverting these ‘70s aesthetics that were really exclusive, or these fancy dinner parties and such. Then they actually even used that in their campaign,” she says.
The work was credited to a David James White, a set designer whose website, DavidWhiteSetDesign.com shows absolutely no indication of prior work with gelatin or edible art. When commenters pointed out this fact on the photos that White had reposted to his own page, he quickly deleted the post. If the work was not plagiarized, why try to cover it up? Why not point to previous work showing similar art? While White’s portfolio is extensive and notable, it’s clear that the gelatin molds are something entirely new for him.
The obvious plagiarism was noted by Franklin, and posted about freely. The controversy spread throughout Instagram, spearheaded by Instagrammers in the somewhat-niche world of accountability in fashion. Fashion’s outliers, enthusiasts not affiliated with any large houses and therefore not threatened by the prospects of shunning within the professional fashion community, are the most eager to rally in support of artists wronged by capitalist giants. Accounts such as @Diet_Prada, run by anonymous fashion insiders, make daily posts “calling out” copycats of designs and campaigns, along with more violent scandals such as sexual assault within the industry. Even so, with the constant stream of new information in the digital age, rage dissipates with time. Tomorrow, another marginalized artist could have their life’s work shoddily recreated by an intern. Instagram Stories are visible for a mere 24 hours. The algorithm bumps posts older than a day or two from a user’s feed. Is it even possible to centralize our anger and create real change in the fashion industry?
In a short direct message exchange between Diet Prada and Franklin, Diet Prada asks Franklin what her specific disabilities and illnesses are. Franklin responds with the list. However, when Diet Prada posted about the issue to their page, the subject of Franklin’s disabilities were erased from the narrative of the conflict. After Franklin pointed this out, Diet Prada edited their post to include that information. To me, Franklin explains the burden of discussing her disabilities and illnesses with people only for them to be erased entirely. Perhaps to able bodied persons, there is a fear of defining someone by their disabilities when discussing them. Franklin is not defined by her disabilities, but that’s not to say that her disabilities don’t inform the work that she creates, the very work that is at the heart of this issue. Disabled artists are simultaneously working to create art and also fighting against the barriers that aim to exclude them from the creative world entirely.
“For me to even obtain cake supplies – I can’t drive legally because of my illnesses and medication – I have to take public transit to acquire ingredients, which is very difficult for me because I can’t even really carry ingredients,” Franklin tells me. “On top of that, physically I have to use a stool while I bake and cook. I can’t cook with a cane because I need both hands. It’s a totally different system I have to navigate. For a while, I couldn’t bend over so I would literally have people come over and help me get the jellies in and out of the fridge … I couldn’t physically lift [the jellies] because I have spinal damage. There’s a lot of levels, my fatigue obviously, and my hospital appointments, and my treatments.” Franklin notes that the day after our conversation, she’ll be heading to the hospital. “My actual expendable energy and spare time outside of being a person who’s trying to take care of my disabilities and my degenerative diseases, I have very little resources.” Luckily for Franklin, she has many friends willing and able to help her with her endeavors. Something as seemingly simple to an able bodied person as picking up groceries is aided by her loved ones that support her fully.
As for the logistics of making the cakes at home, Franklin lives in small apartment with a proportionally tiny fridge. “My medical treatments and my art practice are in the same domestic space, because so many disabled people like myself can’t afford studio spaces, and we have to do our treatments at home as well,” she says. “In my fridge, about half the space is occupied by my daily injection antibodies. When I make jellies, there is often not even enough space for them to fit in my fridge since I am so spatially restricted. It makes it very difficult to balance my project and finding space for my medical treatments to be properly kept at a specific temperature, as the jellies need to be as well.” Again, her friends come in swift, offering space in their fridges for the sake of the preservation of Franklin’s art.
One of the glaring ironies of the situation is the name itself – Paid Technologies. “[The name] came from this desire to express that people should be paid for their work, and that my process in making these is a technological process and it is also reflective of a biotechnological process,” Franklin says. “I think that a lot of people think that domestic practice doesn’t require any payment or respect in general and that creative practice doesn’t require compensation a lot of the time.”
For me, the most tragic part about Sharona Franklin’s cakes is, to her, one of the most important parts. When I see one of her enchanting, bewitching creations, I twitch at the thought of a knife cutting into it. However, the fact that her art is biodegradable is principal in her creation of it. In her art separate from cakes, she works with recyclable materials such as hemp, silk, and Sumi ink. Franklin has been making cakes since she was a child, picking flowers in her grandmother’s garden to adorn them with. As she grew older, she gave them as gifts to loved ones, basing their elements on a careful analysis of the favorite flavors, colors, shapes, and concepts of the recipient. Despite making these cakes for decades, the Paid Technologies page is fairly new. “I never did document cakes that I made because I really wanted it to be a convivial moment where you had to be there, and people had to experience it.”
Whether you’re one of the lucky ones able to fully experience one of Sharona Franklin’s creations, taste and all, or a virtual fan of her work, Franklin wants you to understand that the means in which her art is created, and the limitations that are imposed upon her, are critically important to the meaning of the work itself. The exclusion of disabled persons from art and opportunities and the taking of advantage of such persons will not be amended overnight, but in Franklin’s work especially, it’s clear that despite whatever disadvantages or inequities she faces, she won’t be silent.
Sharona’s various other art projects, including “Psychedelia of Industrial Healing” where she explores and celebrates her daily injections, can be found on her personal Instagram, @Star_Seeded. Her cakes can be found at @Paid.Technologies.
