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offcntrCorvallis Fall Festival's Central Park is probably the nicest of all the art fair locations where we sell. Interlocking walkways that create a three-loop layout, a gazebo, trees and shrubbery, playground, water fountains, lush green grass, that they actually keep watered through the summer.
That last can be a problem, though. Even though it's barely fall, we've had hardly any rain since, oh, May, the ground is so soft and boggy in our spot that I have to limit my hand truck loads to three boxes or less, and our chair legs immediately sink in. Fortunately, I have some 2-inch wooden disks at home, left over from when the insulators did the walls, and with the help of some duct tape, manage to give them rain boots.
We get a little rain overnight Friday, intermittent showers Saturday morning, but not enough to dent the crowds. Sales are quite astonishingly good, to the point that Saturday's total rivals our entire weekend's sales from 2016, the last year we were here. Apparently intermittent reinforcement actually does work. People are very glad to see us after a year's absence.
I'm used to hearing my pots discussed in different languages, but this weekend may be a record. Spanish, of course. German. What sounds like either Russian or Serbo-Croatian. A long, three-way conversation between me, a woman, and her husband in English and Chinese. (She's used to Chinese cooking, on stove-top, and wants to experiment with roasting and baking; ends up buying a small squared baker, after consulting at length with her non-English-speaking husband.) Most unexpected language experience of the weekend, though, was the three young men looking at pig and elephant banks, and discussing their merits at length, in Arabic.
As usual, we have fun with the bears, mugging for small children, especially those who have their own plushies along. Also had a nice interaction with a black cat puppet and her owner.
One of the local high schools offers a pottery class, and the instructor assigned his students to visit the festival and look at pots, so I have three different students stop in over the weekend. The first is enthusiastic, taking pictures and a business card. The second is with her mom and in full teenage resistance mode, sullenly looking at the work and speaking in monosyllables. The third is also with mom, of the "let-me-tell-you-about-my-kid" variety, but seems really interested in pottery. I give her some tips about centering and throwing, refer her to this blog, and make her promise to send me a pic when she eventually--and I'm pretty sure she will--produces a pot she's proud of.
I actually have a lot of nice interactions with teens this weekend, always encouraging, as I sometimes fear my demographic is aging out of buying things in favor of downsizing. Sunday morning brings a girl with a big market basket, scouting items for her realtor mother to use as closing gifts. She winds up with four items, mugs and stews and glasses, and I tell her about my other realtor client who specializes in houses for big families, and will periodically buy sets of plates or bowls, one for each kid and their parents.
Because load-out is a little fraught, no vehicles on the grass, and the above-mentioned tangle of walkways, we treat ourselves to lunch at the food booths and save sandwiches for a break at take-down. Nice variety of choices: in addition to the hamburger/corndog/kettle corn axis, they have pierogies, falafel, shawarma, and Philly cheesesteak. Prices are lower than usual for a show, $7 for a basic entree, as opposed to the $12-14 we see everywhere else. We split an order of potato/cheddar pierogies with caramelized brussels sprouts and a chicken shawarma.
That last can be a problem, though. Even though it's barely fall, we've had hardly any rain since, oh, May, the ground is so soft and boggy in our spot that I have to limit my hand truck loads to three boxes or less, and our chair legs immediately sink in. Fortunately, I have some 2-inch wooden disks at home, left over from when the insulators did the walls, and with the help of some duct tape, manage to give them rain boots.
We get a little rain overnight Friday, intermittent showers Saturday morning, but not enough to dent the crowds. Sales are quite astonishingly good, to the point that Saturday's total rivals our entire weekend's sales from 2016, the last year we were here. Apparently intermittent reinforcement actually does work. People are very glad to see us after a year's absence.
I'm used to hearing my pots discussed in different languages, but this weekend may be a record. Spanish, of course. German. What sounds like either Russian or Serbo-Croatian. A long, three-way conversation between me, a woman, and her husband in English and Chinese. (She's used to Chinese cooking, on stove-top, and wants to experiment with roasting and baking; ends up buying a small squared baker, after consulting at length with her non-English-speaking husband.) Most unexpected language experience of the weekend, though, was the three young men looking at pig and elephant banks, and discussing their merits at length, in Arabic.
As usual, we have fun with the bears, mugging for small children, especially those who have their own plushies along. Also had a nice interaction with a black cat puppet and her owner.
One of the local high schools offers a pottery class, and the instructor assigned his students to visit the festival and look at pots, so I have three different students stop in over the weekend. The first is enthusiastic, taking pictures and a business card. The second is with her mom and in full teenage resistance mode, sullenly looking at the work and speaking in monosyllables. The third is also with mom, of the "let-me-tell-you-about-my-kid" variety, but seems really interested in pottery. I give her some tips about centering and throwing, refer her to this blog, and make her promise to send me a pic when she eventually--and I'm pretty sure she will--produces a pot she's proud of.
I actually have a lot of nice interactions with teens this weekend, always encouraging, as I sometimes fear my demographic is aging out of buying things in favor of downsizing. Sunday morning brings a girl with a big market basket, scouting items for her realtor mother to use as closing gifts. She winds up with four items, mugs and stews and glasses, and I tell her about my other realtor client who specializes in houses for big families, and will periodically buy sets of plates or bowls, one for each kid and their parents.
Because load-out is a little fraught, no vehicles on the grass, and the above-mentioned tangle of walkways, we treat ourselves to lunch at the food booths and save sandwiches for a break at take-down. Nice variety of choices: in addition to the hamburger/corndog/kettle corn axis, they have pierogies, falafel, shawarma, and Philly cheesesteak. Prices are lower than usual for a show, $7 for a basic entree, as opposed to the $12-14 we see everywhere else. We split an order of potato/cheddar pierogies with caramelized brussels sprouts and a chicken shawarma.