If you read my last blog post, it was simply advertising a Wine and Art Festival where I was going to peddle my art. This is a long story about that art fair, so stick with me!
If you've ever met me in person, you would know that I have occasional bouts of extreme positivity, but for the most part, I am a self-deprecating negative nelly. I'm proud of the shifting balance of positive versus negative thoughts, but there are definitely circumstances that bring negative nelly out to play. The fear of failure is just such a circumstance.
This was my first art fair were I was attempting to sell my fine art. I have done craft fairs before, selling wooden spoons and wooden wall art. We had some with more success and some with less success (and some utter disasters, but that is a whole separate story). So entering the Wine and Art Festival was relatively easy--I'd done this before, right?
But then reality set in and I realized the time, money and financial outlay I needed to get ready for this thing. So, with a little help from my awesome kiddo, a supplemental salary, Amazon.com, the local hardware store, and a good deal of time on Pinterest, I set out to make it happen. My daughter and I made display panels from cheap screen doors and indoor/outdoor carpet. We bought the wrong printer, returned it, and then bought the right printer. Then we ordered, and reordered, then ordered again all the supplies we needed to print, mount, and bag prints of my original artwork. We spent many nights after school and work licking archival tape and mounting prints. As the day of the Festival approached, my friends and family wisely kept a wide berth from me, knowing that my stress level reaches epic proportions in the days before an event. So, my mental state was delicate to put it gently. I was worried about too many prints, not enough prints, prints in the wrong size, the display not working out, forgetting something important, and a thousand other minor details. But, the one thing I couldn't get out of my head was, "What if no one likes my artwork, and I sell nothing?" I just didn't know if my ego could handle that kind of rejection.
Regardless, we bravely packed up on the day of the event and headed to the location. It was a bright, hot day--one of the nicest so far in April. Our tent location faced directly west, so we had the hot Texas sun from noon to 8pm pounding into our tent.
Let's talk about the crowd. Somehow, I knew from the first few moments that this was not the right crowd for me. This was a crowd very reluctant to let go of their money. A crowd that was interested in browsing, but not even considering buying later, evidenced by no one willing to take a business card. My heart sank. As the day went on, my heart sank lower and lower. Don't get me wrong, we made just enough to recover the fee we paid to be there (let's ignore the exorbitant investment in the panels, the printer, the paper, the mats, etc.). I was trying desperately to banish negative nelly, but it was hard work as I was sweaty, sunburned, and most definitely in the hole. I was worried that it was not the dynamics of the crowd, or the heat, that it was my artwork. Maybe it wasn't good enough. Despite my negativity, we hoped against all hope that at 4pm, when the wine walk opened, the crowd would change, and we would see more people willing to part with a few bucks for wall art.
The crowd did, in fact, change. But this was a crowd determined to sample every wine. So they spent their time waiting in wine lines, but not much time browsing the booths. I was feeling even lower, and actually started to clock-watch. How soon before I could pack up and leave?Then a group of three young men enter my tent and walk directly to the back where my original oil paintings were hanging. They were discussing them in an animated way. One approached me and asked how much a particular one cost. I told him the price and immediately started explaining that I didn't have any prints of the oil paintings, but I had inexpensive prints of the drawings available here, or on my Etsy site. I pushed a business card in his direction, and assumed the interaction would simply be over, like so many others throughout the day. The three stepped out of the tent. After a few minutes, the gentleman came back over, and said he would take the painting and did I take credit cards?
So ... I barely held on to my dignity (my inner self was screaming with joy) as I processed the sale and handed over my very first sale of a large-scale painting. A couple of crazy emotions went through my head: 1) I'm going to miss that painting!, 2) Do I have a good enough picture by which to remember it?, 3) I hope this guy doesn't get home and have buyers remorse! I was still processing this incredibly momentous event in my emerging artist life, when another of the guys came back and bought another one!! (yes, that is a double exclamation point moment). Moments after they left, I realized I was so in shock that I did not ask for their names. I think I overheard they were a restaurant group, and they were going to hang my paintings in one of their restaurants. But I will never know, because I was just too green to say I wanted to get photos of my work in it's new home for my resume.
So, it was a real roller coaster of a day for me. A few things I learned:
a. You can never predict a crowd.
b. Never, ever, underestimate yourself.
c. Always get a name so you can follow up with the buyer. You can add them to your email list, get photos of your work in their space. etc.
I'm working hard to keep shifting my emotional balance toward positive versus negative, to be more confident in my artwork, and to be smarter on the business side of this crazy roller coaster life as an artist.
...and if anyone ever sees "The Orange" or the "The Drop" (the raspberries) in a restaurant in or near Midlothian, Texas, please let me know!
