Rejected

I received my first art show rejection today for the Spring Green art show.

Bastards.

I shouldn’t be too upset. Of all the shows I’ve applied to over the years, I’ve only been rejected by two. My odds are actually pretty good. Unfortunately I was really hoping to get into this one. Better luck next year I guess.

After the great Kohler debacle of 2011, I’ve decided to take a slightly different approach to the whole art fair thing. Mostly I’m focusing on outdoor shows and fattening up my consignment opportunities. If I can give someone my stuff to sell… they haul it, set it up, sell it and pay the sales tax for modest commission, seems like a win-win to me.

But who are we kidding. Art Show Rejection is the equivalent of “your baby is ugly”. And my baby isn’t ugly. My baby is darn cute actually.

Art show snobs.

Sigh.

There ought to be a law

In case you missed the fantabulous update about the dismal nature of the big Kohler show, you can read about it here.

The Kohler show is a hybrid of both hand made and commercial vendors. Most of the commercial vendors are nicer things, such as candy companies and better knock-off designer jewelry. There was also, however, all natural jewelry cleaner...conveniently positioned right next to me.  Who's so lucky?

Now the all natural jewelry cleaner booth consisted of a couple of tables with pepto bismal pink table coverings and 2 large signs that screamed "FREE RING CLEANING", ala QVC.

Next to the pepto pink ring cleaning lady was guy selling wooden frogs of various sizes. What's the purpose of the wooden frog you wonder? Well, the frog has a wooden pin stuck in it. If you remove the pin and stroke the wooden pin up the frogs back, it croaks. Big frogs make deep croaks. Little frogs sound like crickets.  Who's so lucky?

For three, long, painful, sales-free days my Kohler show experience was a cacophony of piped in Christmas music, the "FREE RING CLEANING" sales pitch and frog croaks.  I couldn't make this up if I tried.

"Ladies would you like a free ring cleaning"

"Croaaaaak"

"Once a week take this cream and rub it into your diamond. It's safe for all gemstones including pearls and opals"

"Jolly Old St Nicholas"

"Croaaaaaak"

"What the cream is doing is removing the sticky oxidation."

"Croaaaaaak"

"Silver Bells"

"It's all natural, with banana oil, coconut oil and grapeseed oil"

"Croaaaaak"

"Then rinse and dip in the brightener"


I wish I had blow dart gun to put us all out of our collective misery. Pfffffft.

Now, to be fair, I will say that the jewelry lady has a good pitch. I'm sure she could sell ice to Eskimos; however I am a jewelers daughter and I can tell you with 110% certainly that "oil" is about the worst thing you can put on your jewelry. What's sticks to oil? Everything.  Which is the reason we all clean our kitchens with amonia or another like product to cut through the grease.

Never let it be said the buying public had the sense God gave a lemon. Women lapped up "all natural jewelry cleaner"  for the "special show price" of $24.95.

Editors snark note: Clearly these are the same women who fall for the Arbonne skin care sales pitch because it's "naturally and botanically based". You can pick em out of a crowd as they have lines in their forhead that could hold a dime and could really benefit from a little Botox. Chemicals have their place people; both in skincare and diamond cleaning.

The frog guy sold 1/2 his inventory. Apparently Northern Wisconsin has an affinity for frog dust collectors that make a frog noise. What do you do with this thing once you get home? Seriously?

Meanwhile,  I couldn't give it away but every other lady bought an oil based product to rub into her wedding ring or a wooden frog.

Croaaaak! Cue the dart gun. Pfffft.

Painful Life Lessons - Art Show Style

At 44 (cripes, I still can't say that numbe out loud without flinching a little), one would think that I have learned all the big life lessons. I've had 44 years of the "the moral of the story is...",  I should be done. Alas. Not so.

The "big" Kohler show was a protracted, painful, 3-day lesson in the grass isn't always greener on the other side."  It's just more expensive.

I had expectations. I admit it. Big fancy, American Club, expectations. I spent months (months, I'm not kidding) prepping for this show. Buying stock. Alot of it. Dying stock. Alot of it. Configuring displays. Artfully problem solving how I was going to jam all my stuff in a too small, very expensive space.  I was prepared and ready to sell.

What's that saying? Make plans, God laughs.

What I wasn't prepared for was the staggeringly bad loction of my booth. Location is everything.  Of 101 vendors, I was 101. Stuck way in the back of the "Bay de Noc" room.   The American Club venue is truly magnificent. It's opulence and over indulgence at it's finest. The doormen wear top hats with black wool coats with red trim. It's nice. I want to live there.

All of the other rooms have 2 doorways, creating "flow". The Bay de Noc room is a conference room broom closet. One entrance, like a hallway. There is no flow. There is only the average patron taking half a dozen steps inside, craning their neck to get a lay of the land, turning and leaving.

Strike One.

I also wasn't prepared for having another artisit that sold the EXACT SAME STYLE dresses as I do, 2 booths over.

Not kidding.

Hand dyed.

Not kidding.

Althought his were painted with little birds (ok, ewww).  I am all for healthy competition but geez-oh-petes. There weren't that many childrens vendors, break it up a little. 

And the artist was a head-case. Running over to my booth ever 20 minutes, checking my price points (mine were $28 - his were $32). He actually said to me and I quote "Your stuff is pretty but mine is a better value since there is more embellishment".  What a tool.  Please leave my too small, expensive 8x10 booth.

Strike Two.

And the most important thing I wasn't prepared for, and I should know, is the market dictates everything.  Tye Dye just isn't beloved in the northern parts of Wisconsin. It's definately a Madison area type product. For good or for ill -- people associate tye dye with hippies. These weren't my people.  These people wanted chickadees painted on heathered green dresses, not bright rainbow swirls.

Strike Three.

So for three staggeringly long days, I endured barely (and I mean barely) enough sales to cover my over-priced booth fee and my hotel.  At the end of my show I took my bruised ego and my over-abundance of tye dye, packed up and went home.

Big. Heavy. Sigh.

Kohler - An Update

So yeah. I was accepted to the big “Holiday Craft Market” in Kohler, Wi. You can read about that here.

Silly me. I assumed acceptance meant all artists are created equal. Not so much with the created equal. New vendors are low man on the totem pole.

Low.  Very low.

Low man on the totem pole means that the 10x12 booth space I requested will not be a reality. Not unless another returning vendor befalls a non-fatal but disfiguring accident and is unable to attend this year’s event.

Low man means only 8x8 booth spaces are left. 8x8 isn’t very big when you display clothing.

Low also means you get relegated to some random banquet room, not the coveted “Grand Ball Room”.

Newbies must pay their dues.

The coordinator of the Kohler show…in my opinion has the most thankless job on the planet. I’m pretty sure coordinating the booth spaces and needs of 100+ narcissistic artists is tantamount to a hazing ritual in the events planning world. The hotel events managers of The American Club probably rub their hands in anticipation of who they can torture this year with the planning of the annual Kohler Holiday Mart….insert maniacal manager laughter here.

The coordinator has been great about trying to at least accommodate me, which I really do appreciate.

I do.

I am being 110% sincere. She could have easily dumped me in the 8x8 and left no room for discussion. So major snaps to the holiday event coordinator at the American Club for being so stand up about what I am sure is a no win situation for anyone.

I was able to use my powerful negotiation skills and wrangle my way into an 8x10 booth. I bet you didn’t think that an extra 2 feet of booth space costs $100. It does.

Booth space real estate ain’t cheap. It’s even less cheap at The American Club where a room is $300 a night.

No lie.

For the record I won't be staying at The American Club. I have 3 nights booked at the lovely La Quinta.

So – we’re off and running. Contract and check to be sent. Let the months of prepping begin.

More to follow.

Middleton Good Neightbor Fest - Recap

MiddlMiddleton is my hometown, which means the Good Neighbor Fest (GNF) is my hometown fair, which also means there is a lot of GNF sentimentality attached to the festival.

When I think of Middleton Good Neighbor I think of the food first.

Mini donuts, kettle corn, funnel cakes and cheese curds; (although the cheese curds weren’t as good this year as they have been in past years – sorry Kiwanis).   After a weekend at the GNF, one needs a full body cavity flush and a green salad.

I think many other people think of the food first and art & craft show second.

And therein lies the problem.

It’s also the last fair of the season, smack dab at “back to school time”.  Another problem.

So let’s get down to brass tacks and dissect the goodness and lack of goodness of this particular art fair, keeping in mind that it pains me to say anything other than great things about the GNF.

The Good

1. The food. In addition to wide variety of grease laden items already mentioned, you can also get cream puffs, chicken and/or steak sammys, burgers, brats, pulled pork, pizza, pretzel, pie, ice cream, fries, fish, chicken dinners , cotton candy, caramel apples, soda and beer. Whew. I mean for small town fair, the spread is pretty good.
2. It’s close to home. Bonus.
3. The weather! GORGEOUS! Picture perfect 78 degrees blue skies and sunshine. A far cry from the Mt Horeb Steam Bath in mid July.
4. Firemans Park. It’s a park...not a parking lot. There are trees. There is grass. There are also an enormous amount of daddy long-leg spiders,  but we seemed to co-exist peacefully,  although I do feel really bad about unknowingly smushing one under my sales book. Live and learn.

The Not so Good

1. Firemans Park. Park = good. Hauling your crap into the park = not good. There is no easy load-in/load out. Basically, it’s a free for all. Technically artists are not supposed to park on North Ave, the very small block of road that butts up against the park… but no one pays attention to that rule, including me. I got lucky and parked on North Ave Sunday morning,  so load out was slightly less horrible. It’s every man for himself when it comes to packing up and heading out. And I’m all about me when it comes to getting the hell outta there and home as much as the next guy.
2. Communication with the Show Coordinators. I think art show coordination is a hazing ritutal. Some young eager beaver blindly accepts responsibility and then falls down the rabbit hole. In my experience manning the GNF artshow gmail account was pretty low on someone’s priority list.
3. The buyers. There were lots of people but not lots of buyers. I think this stems from two things:

• The general stock market rollercoaster of late doesn’t actually inspire confidence. Lack of confidence = lack of spending. Economics 101.
• Back to School. Most families are tapped out from back to school supplies, book fees, tuition and otherwise being nickel and dimed to death by their local school district. Factor in August being a big vacation month and people are tapped out.

At the end of the day I did respectable but not great. Not great is hard to parlay into excitement about doing this show next year. I’m on the fence. On the plus side I made a few contacts about other shows and got a hot tip on a better way to process credit cards. (I’m currently using a knuckle buster. That name is no lie.)

I figure the sour taste of this years GNF art show will fade and by May of 2012 I’ll be full of fresh hope and optimism. Time will tell.

My Fathers Daughter

My dad is an artist of the most spectacular nature. He’s my dad. So, of course, I think he is brilliant.


He is though.

Truly.

Hand on a stack of bibles.

Brilliant.

I traveled with my dad to the Peoria Fine Art Fair recently. He was representing his art over a weekend. I know, I know. Peoria. It’s a bit of an oxymoron. What do the people of Peoria know about fine art? Judging by the number of craptastic $40 “lawn art on a stick” I saw people walking around with, not much.

In any case, due to a complicated labyrinth of circumstances, my mom was unable to attend the show and I stepped in to pinch hit.

The prospect of traveling with him was a little more than daunting. Frankly, I was afraid of getting yelled at. Loudly. My dad is great and wonderful but he can have an impossibly short fuse and does this thing where he grits his tongue between his teeth when he gets impatient. I had flashbacks to being 12 years old, standing in the garage while my dad had me hold some impossibly heavy car part so he could measure it while simultaneously yelling at me for not holding “still” enough. Never-mind that I was a 12 year old, 85 pound skinny girl with virtually no muscle tone holding a piece of Ford Coupe bumper equal to my body weight. I’m just saying. There is some history there that fed my current anxiety about 4 days in Peoria.

I could provide a lot of unnecessary details about the weekend, the 6 hour setup process, the tense tear down where I was yelled at (but only once), the rain, the cold, the wind and the drunk artist in the booth next to us. All are seemingly irrelevant.

The most illuminating moment of the weekend came when we were crossing the street on our way from the parking lot to the art fair. My dad was two steps ahead of me and he reached back to take my hand like any parent does for their child when crossing the street. Despite the fact that we are 42 and 63 respectively and I know he gets that I am a grown up woman with a child of my own; I am still his child. So when he reaches back, I take his hand. He is my dad. I am my father’s daughter.