The View From the Booth
Oct. 6th, 2014 09:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
offcntrAs the outdoor art fair season winds down, a look back at summer from July 2014 at Off Center Ceramics.
It's the morning of the third day of the second weekend of out-of-town art fairs, and I find myself reflecting on the view from the booth.
We don't see much of the rest of the fair, mostly sleepy vendors unzipping canvas tents, or exhausted vendors closing up again at the end of the day. (Maybe one in a hundred is disgustingly bright and chipper at 8 am; morning-person artists are unnatural.) In between we're too busy in our booth to get out and about much. You're here to see the sights, occasionally to be seen. We're here to manage the store and--hopefully--sell some pottery.
In between, we people watch. Costumes are a big part of some shows' culture. Or lack thereof: the naked bike ride at Fremont Fair brings a lot of body-painted, well, bodies past the booth. Or into the booth--it's a challenge being professional to browsers wearing only an airbrushed coat of his-and-hers gold and silver body paint. Others are less extreme: a group of silk kimono-clad women with bamboo and paper parasols strolled past yesterday. A lone bagpiper circulates through the crowds, serenading us with martial tunes. A little girl in bright blue dress and butterfly wings shows them off for a passing photographer.
Clusters of teenagers are fun to watch, kitted out in whatever is current fashion in their milieu. Goth used to be ubiquitous; now hipster and retro are taking over, with a strong sub-set of steampunk. Matching obscure t-shirts are a couples thing--what is it with the Bill Murray in beard and stocking cap? I've seen several. Occasionally we'll see something really outré, like the girl in manga-inspired geisha (or maybe ronin) ware sewn from Batman-print fabric. Carrying a sword.
T-shirt watching is another entertainment. My favorite this fair? Ask me about my ADD. Or cake. I like cake. What day is it? I just saw a tree. Hi. On really slow days, we play Hair of the Day. So far at this show, it's a toss-up between a little boy with a wavy blue and magenta mohawk and a grandmother with an orange crop and gold highlights. Roseburg is tame compared to Eugene. On a given Saturday afternoon, we'll see six or eight real contenders, and once the hands-down winner was a toy poodle with a rainbow mohawk.
But ideally, we're too busy to do more than just glance. Talking to browsers, handing out business cards. Selling pots and restocking from the boxes in back. Catching up with old friends, making new ones. Commiserating with neighbors who're doing worse than we are, envying those doing better. Quietly, though. You never know when the wheel's gonna turn.
And planning ahead. Stressing about what we should have brought, wondering what's in the shed at home. Making lists of things to make for the next firing. And always, thinking ahead to the next show.
It's the morning of the third day of the second weekend of out-of-town art fairs, and I find myself reflecting on the view from the booth.
We don't see much of the rest of the fair, mostly sleepy vendors unzipping canvas tents, or exhausted vendors closing up again at the end of the day. (Maybe one in a hundred is disgustingly bright and chipper at 8 am; morning-person artists are unnatural.) In between we're too busy in our booth to get out and about much. You're here to see the sights, occasionally to be seen. We're here to manage the store and--hopefully--sell some pottery.
In between, we people watch. Costumes are a big part of some shows' culture. Or lack thereof: the naked bike ride at Fremont Fair brings a lot of body-painted, well, bodies past the booth. Or into the booth--it's a challenge being professional to browsers wearing only an airbrushed coat of his-and-hers gold and silver body paint. Others are less extreme: a group of silk kimono-clad women with bamboo and paper parasols strolled past yesterday. A lone bagpiper circulates through the crowds, serenading us with martial tunes. A little girl in bright blue dress and butterfly wings shows them off for a passing photographer.
Clusters of teenagers are fun to watch, kitted out in whatever is current fashion in their milieu. Goth used to be ubiquitous; now hipster and retro are taking over, with a strong sub-set of steampunk. Matching obscure t-shirts are a couples thing--what is it with the Bill Murray in beard and stocking cap? I've seen several. Occasionally we'll see something really outré, like the girl in manga-inspired geisha (or maybe ronin) ware sewn from Batman-print fabric. Carrying a sword.
T-shirt watching is another entertainment. My favorite this fair? Ask me about my ADD. Or cake. I like cake. What day is it? I just saw a tree. Hi. On really slow days, we play Hair of the Day. So far at this show, it's a toss-up between a little boy with a wavy blue and magenta mohawk and a grandmother with an orange crop and gold highlights. Roseburg is tame compared to Eugene. On a given Saturday afternoon, we'll see six or eight real contenders, and once the hands-down winner was a toy poodle with a rainbow mohawk.
But ideally, we're too busy to do more than just glance. Talking to browsers, handing out business cards. Selling pots and restocking from the boxes in back. Catching up with old friends, making new ones. Commiserating with neighbors who're doing worse than we are, envying those doing better. Quietly, though. You never know when the wheel's gonna turn.And planning ahead. Stressing about what we should have brought, wondering what's in the shed at home. Making lists of things to make for the next firing. And always, thinking ahead to the next show.