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nels%20booth.jpgIMG_1079.jpgIMG_1086.JPG For some reason you have to click on these, others show in my blog  (WTF! Connie)

Well, what a pisser, not only did my booth get destroyed, but this blog I was writing, (and I was halfway thru it) just mysteriously disappeared off my screen.

So, back to square one.

Maybe you saw a brief post of mine on Facebook about it, maybe you did not.  Here is the full Monty.

Ellen and I went to Bluffton,SC last weekend for the their Seafood and Art Festival.

It only has 100 booths all along seven blocks on a main drag with some houses, restaurants and bars on it.  They have police security at both ends of the show.  Nothing in the middle.  I guess they let some cars in, even after the show is over for the day, if they got biz on the street.

We shut down Saturday night with $550 in sales for the days and visions of crab cakes and wine that night.

Sunday morn I woke up with dreams of having some Starbucks robust roast coffee while reading the NY Times, and enjoying mouthfuls of savory Low Country shrimp and grits.

My darn IPhone kept ringing .  Three times it was a caller from NC.  I ignored it.  No voicemail, no foul, I aint answering it.

Finally, a fourth time there was a voicemail.

"Nels, you better get down here fast.  Your booth has been seriously damaged and mine is too."  It was my show neighbor, Kathy Oda, calling.

Well, I hurried as fast  as it took Ellen time to apply lipstick and makeup.  Never hurry a beautiful blonde, beautifying herself.  Some wise man told me that years ago.  I married one, so I took those words to heart.

When we turned the corner onto the main drag, I realized three things, pronto.

First, I would not be swilling any Starbucks that morn, two, I could forget about the NY Times and three, there would be no shrimp and grits in the future for  me that morn.

My booth was still there.  Just not in the condition I had left it the night before.

Kathy's booth had already been cleared away.

I had hoped I would be seeing just a panel or two pushed in, slightly bent, maybe a few frames on the ground and some scattered sprinkles of photo-glass calling from hither and yon.

Not.

In 40 years of doing shows I am used to seeing severely damaged booths.  I have seen ones blown over a bridge rail in Columbus.  I have seen some blown into the seawater at Images in New Smyrna.  I have seen booths blown and scattered apart all over the park in Vero Beach.  I know what nasty winds and pummeling rain can do to our temporary show rooms (Some people, not very smart ones, think that these show rooms are also our bedrooms at shows.).

Well, mine fit into anyone of those scenarios.  Without water.

As we like to say in the biz, "Parts are parts, pieces are pieces."

It was barely standing on one side.  Twisted and leaning like a mean drunk that had had 25 shots of tequila, and was going to have another 25.

Shards of glass pointed menacingly at us.  Bent frames stuck out under the tarps.

The roof was laying low as to say, "Thats it, Jack, I aint carrying this load no more.  I am taking Social Security and you are on your own.  Go get a pretty orange top.  I am out of here."

People stood around respectfully.  They were waiting for that IPhone moment.

SO I complied.

Whipped it out and shot pics of the damage.  I would continue to do it as different levels of damaged exposed themselves.

Obviously, this would not to be the moment to do the booth shot for Cherry Creek.  Although, if they had a Sympathy  category I was a lock to be in.

About ten artists and bystanders offered to help.

We gently unzipped the twisted front awning and tried to work our way back, panel by panel, truss by truss, while dodging shards and sharp edges.

Miraculously, none of my photographs were cut.  Mats were trashed, frames twisted and glass broke.  Some bins took a hit.  Same with a table.  It was not very pretty.

Finally, we had worked our way to the very rear and cleared all the damage to field behind me.

I profusely thanked all and then went about deciding what I could do that day to make some moola.

I had a Newtons Porto-Canopy, made in 1986.  It has eight display panels, wire, with four trusses that span the width,  Comes with a canvas roof, skylights in, and rear and front awnings.

Four of the eight panels were trash.  Same with two trusses.

I managed to cobble a booth together using four bent panels joined together, using bungees and duct tape.  I managed to put up one table with print bins, and one 16x20 print bin.  No roof, but I fashioned a shade awning off the rear to sit under.

During the day, I assiduously picked broken glass out of frames while conducting biz.

I managed to pull $1K out of the day.  A miracle in itself.

While this had happened, a fellow artist, Christine Reichart, took up a collection for me from my fellow exhibitors.  She presented me with a manila bag stuffed with fives, tens and twenties.  Enough to buy a new table and replace all my broken glass and frames.  What a doll! What a bunch of great fellow artists.  I was speechless and amazed.

I went around and thanked everybody at the show for their contributions.

We have a wonderful family of fellow artists.  We are so fortunate.

Then, the Art Association that helps run the show told Kathy and me they were going to reimburse us for new booths.  I was again, speechless.

I then had at least ten artists tell me they couldn't wait for somebody to bump into their booths.  Hmmmm.

We tried to figure out how this all happened.

Kathy says, that when she first got there, my booth was dragged into hers.  One of my John Deere anchor weights was a good 50 yards down from her booth.

Oh.  I guess I forgot to tell you.  Whoever hit my booth also stole three of my pieces off the front panel.

So here is our reconstruction of what may have happened.

Somewhere after 10 PM that night, a vehicle got let in by security and drove down the street.  My booth was near the middle of the show.

They may have been looking just for my booth to take some art they spotted earlier in the day. Isn't that so special.  I was chosen.

So the Midnight Rambler unzips and steals the pieces.

Then, when making his getaway, he snags one of my front anchor weights with his car.  Zoom,zoom, he is gone.  Bang, bang, our booths are down and gone.

They never caught the guy.

This event may cause them to consider putting security in the middle of the show next year.

So, I am now shopping for a booth.  Maybe a LightDome, maybe a Trimline.

In the interim, Lou Garofalo has graciously lent me a spare LightDome.

I get by with a little help from my friends.

My birthday is Saturday.  I turn a really big number.  I am happy.  I am married to a beautiful blonde, and she is a great artist too.  What more can a guy ask for.