From the "for what it's worth" side of the tracks. I am one of those "part timers" crazy enough to work a business for 12 hors a day, then find time to participate in the show circuit as a means to prepare for the afterlife. I began in 2003, first show being the Downtown Boulder Show, remember setting up the fake "display" in my back yard and leaning on my neighbors to play the part of the crowd so I had a booth shot.The feeling of pure euphoria as I actually sold pieces (think we sold around $2K that first time) encouraged me to stay with it. I honed my act,in terms of subject matter (i.e. "things that sell"), the booth, the pack up (remember cardboard boxes that came out of the truck fine, and having to tie them to the roof when I packed up) the framing and all those other litlle hard learned lessons.
The next few years things went well. Very well. We made it into some big shows, most notably Main St/Ft. Worth where we broke the magic five figure barrier for the first time (kinda like that back seat at the drive in moment you never forget). Bayou City, Crested Butte, Denver, Austin. So many adventures along the way.Met all sorts of good people. Found it to be fun to see familiar faces. Learned to keep things positive when so many found it easier to complain about sales, the weather, democrats, yadda,yadda.Learned what a community this is, how to help those stuggeling to set up/take down in the rain, how to be a better human being. How to never take the privlidge of being accepted in these shows for granted.
Come 2009, and burnout set in. Over 20 some odd shows that year, ran business via the internet and my so patient wife became less understanding of what I went thru. Blazing heat,monsson rains, hurricane force winds, the stress of no people in the streets and life on the road all took their toll. But more than ever, I missed being able to lose myself with the camera. Something has to give, and this became what I lost. That special connection with something you first feel, then see, then photograph became a distant memory. Only so much gas in the tank, I had to take a break.
Being waitlisted in 2010 confirmed it was time to think about time off. The amount of applicants for the shows became astounding .Personally I think the lack of "freshness" about my work contributed to not being accepted to shows I did for several years. Rather than be bitter, bitch about the unfairnness of it all, I considered taking the year off. But, I was accepted to a few and decided what the hell. I'll do a few.
The first pack up came, sent the weekend doing things I had all Winter to do (procrastination being a tattoo on my arm). Trailer packed, CC machine greased, inventory complete. And I was dog tired and half hearted. It hit me like a wet newspaper to the back of the head when I stopped the next day for gas. I went into the store, smelled the stale coffee and those chessburgerdoglog things glistening and rotating and mezmerizing.The semi toothed truck drivers, the semi literate cashiers. I remembered the late nights, the deadline to be somewhere I ain't gonna make. The fine selections of caffiene products (my regimine was 40 some odd ounces of dark roast, then 5 hour energy, then green tea to wind down.This would do just fine for the 20 hour straight run from Chitown to Texas).And those exquisite roadside rest rooms. I called the Woodlands and said I ain't gonna make it, so pull someone off the waitlist. Felt a bit like the kidney donor, I lost $400 and someone else got to make money.
So now, I am down to a few more few. While I think I am making the right decision, have to say the weekend of Main St. (waitlisted, never called) I was bummed.Memories of the exhileration of the set up, those crowds, those sales, and the nightlife afterwards played with me the whole week. I have to live vicariously for a while, but will stick to my disciplines, take a good hard look at myself, and come back kicking butt and taking names. But damn, I miss it for now.
This is the kind of show that makes me proud to be a Texan. A wonderful volunteer organization (The Southlake Women's Club) rolls out the red carpet for the artists. Great hospitality, including lunch during set-up, continental breakfast, and snacks delivered to you booth. Also: great crowds of sophisticated patrons delivered to your booth. Most artists I spoke to reported strong sales.
own hands? It is always exciting to see groups of artists get together to make it happen for themselves. More and more artists are having open studio tours, starting indie events, taking part in pop-up galleries. Here's a new one in my neighborhood, in a rural area north of Fort Wayne, Indiana.