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Okay. I did it. I've been in the biz forever. But this was my very first outdoor show with a tent and walls and all the concerns we all read and talk about on this amazing site. And although I had read and researched and practiced and planned, my insides sweated it out and I totally wanted to back out of the whole thing. By the time we arrived at our friend's beach house with a borrowed van the night before the show, I was already exhausted, and soooooo angry. At what? At whom? No one, really. I was just disappointed. I was disappointed that it wasn't more fun. I hated the packing and unpacking and spending way too much time preparing. I'd read all about grid walls on this site and decided to go with that. But they were so heavy and cumbersome. Why did I spend SO much money on all this? Why did I even think I'd want to do this at all? I'm too old for all this bother. What was I trying to prove?

And this was only Friday night and all that was going on was early set up the night before the actual festival.

My husband came with me to set up the tent and put everything in place. With a few festival neighbors to help, we got the tent up and were even offered four heavy-duty twisty dog ties for the tent legs which I hadn't known would be allowed. We'd put up the grid walls and placed the weights but we could NOT get the tent walls to meet, to close and it had taken so long - before I'd asked for help, that is - to get the tent itself to stand straight and sturdy, and then to get the weights and stakes in place that the sun had set and it seemed that all the tents were up, the artists were gone, but we were still there. I was living a nightmare and I felt incompetent and angry and embarrassed. It was now dark and the wind was howling and the walls were blowing everywhere. I wanted to take everything down, put it all back in the van and run away. I hated everything about the process. 

My husband, however, was amazingly patient. He was not about to let me quit. And then my inner artist warrior took over and I found myself making a decision. "Let's take down the sails and leave up the tent and grid walls. Batten down the hatches and let's get out of here!" 

I slept not a wink that night but literally watched the full moon turn orange as it made it's way across the window and out of my line of vision. Every gust of wind startled me while I tossed and turned. I wanted to get up and paint the scene it but everything was in the van. I thought "I should be working, painting, sculpting, not doing this crazy art show thing." I awoke angry and tired and hungry and didn't have time to eat breakfast or even shower. I wanted to run away and not set up at all. I figured we could run over there, take the tent down and leave. I'd send an email later. The artist warrior side of me prevailed again, though. As did my incredibly patient husband. (He had actually slept that night.)

That first morning, as we set up my paintings and my ceramic masks, I pretty much filled my mind with complaints. I had been amazed to see my tent and all the weights and display grids sitting upright and waiting for me. But I was still mad at myself. As I made my way through the bubble wrap, all my mind could focus on was how I hadn't bought shopping bags, I didn't get new business cards, I forgot to make price tags, I should have brought a cooler. I HATE THIS!

The weather was gorgeous and the crowds were quiet but pleasant. I didn't make a single sale and after this first 8 hour day of sitting in an uncomfortable chair, I felt justified in my disappointment. At the end of the day as I wrapped and packed all my artwork to drag back to the borrowed van - still couldn't get the walls to fit - I thought, why not just take everything down now and run away? I don't HAVE to come back tomorrow. I'm not in the Army, for heaven sake.

Oh, alright. It's only one more day. I'm fine. I'll come back.

My husband and friends went out to dinner after the show that night. I stayed in and went to bed. Confident that my tent and grid walls were securely in place and my artwork was bubble wrapped safe and sound in the van, I slept. Boy, did I sleep.

I awoke to the sunrise, had breakfast, took my shower and dressed like a proud and happy artist should. I even remembered earrings and mascara. I'd brought a better chair and went off to rule my day. I took my time, by myself, to set up my work on those walls and as the minutes went by people came in to watch, to talk, to admire, to compliment, to ask questions, and yes, to buy.

I made price tags out of my crazy out-of-date business cards and wrote my new info on the cards I gave out. I wrapped purchases in bubble wrap and twine. I had wonderful conversations with visitors as well as my fellow artist neighbors, enjoyed an ice cream cone from the local food truck and made new friends. And throughout the day, I sold stuff!

Before the first hour of the second day, I'd already made back my booth fee and had once again found my joy in talking with people about my work, selling with no apologies and proudly calling myself an artist in business again. "Oh, are YOU the artist?" "Yes," I beamed. "Yes, I am. This is my work." It had been so long since I'd been in the public eye and I loved hearing people tell me how "exciting and different" my work was. I even loved it when people said "Oh, these are kinda scary!" Thank you, I'd say with one raised eyebrow. Thank you very much. 

At five o'clock on that Sunday afternoon, four volunteers ran up to me and asked if they could help me with anything and I said "yes, thank you. I think I could use help with everything." They laughed and got to work. The volunteers had been there throughout both days to give us breaks and bring cold water or hot coffee. When my husband arrived with the van, everything was folded neatly on the grass and I found myself relaxed and smiling with an inner peace I hadn't felt in ages. It had truly been an amazing day, made even sweeter by the turmoil I'd put myself through leading up to that last moment of my first show.

What I want to say to you here is Thank You. Thank you for this forum. For tips you've all shared, and the booth photos for Newbies, and the experiences of all the different shows you've all lived through, both good and bad. Thank you for your input on walls and weights and tents and displays, even when you've answered the same question a million times before. And, oh my God, thank you for telling us about zip ties! But most importantly, thank you for making it alright to be scared sometimes. And for making it okay to admit that we've never actually done this before. 

Thank you for letting us understand that it's okay to ask for help of our fellow artists. And to accept that help graciously. And that the volunteers really DO want to be helpful. Thank you for giving me permission to say "Excuse me, but this is the first time I've used this tent. Could you help me?" 

How sad it would have been to have given up and never had this crazy experience. How helpful it was to come here to this forum every couple of nights for months with a question, or just an hour to read about things and then be able to actually use what I learned here. If I can pay it forward I would say this: Don't be afraid to feel your feelings but then get past the negative stuff and move on. Get a good night sleep, eat a good breakfast, don't forget your sunscreen. Drink lots of water and know where to go when that catches up to you - because it will. Ask for help when you need it, offer help where you see a need, be grateful and mindful of how lucky you are to live your life by your own standards, to spend your day in the shade of a tent surrounded by your own creativity and joy. Talk openly and happily with everyone you meet, be nice to people even if they say silly things and don't seem to "get" your work. And when things get crazy - which they will - stop for a moment, find your center, take a deep breath and just have a ball. The answers will come. Always remember that you are an artist and that's just an incredibly cool thing to be.

Thank you again.

Robin