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offcntrHere are some favorite things from the last four days of Holiday Market:
A little boy with a remarkably accurate Hobbes stuffy who stops to say hello to my bear. I ask if they've been to the Bill Watterson/Calvin and Hobbes exhibit at the UO's Jordan Schnitzer Art Museum. Oh, of course, says Dad.
A dad and two daughters spent a good while, picking out the perfect Christmas present for mom, settling finally on a fox small squared baking dish, at younger ones insistence--Mom loves foxes! While I'm packing it up, he mentions that he has a sloth mug like the one on the shelf, a gift from a cousin. They all give me sloth things, because my last name is Slothower. A vague memory chimes in, Like Tom Slothower? You know my UncleTom back east? Turns out I do, sorta. He used to book the folk series at the Blue Whale Coffeehouse at UW-Green Bay, went on to become a folk music agent for John McCutcheon, and was my booking contact with Fleming-Tamulevich Associates when I was running the Heritage Music series and Willamette Valley Folk Festival for the UO Cultural Forum.
Old acquaintances stopping by: Bev, who was the Art Department secretary during my graduate school days--her husband is also a potter, though at the gallery rather than art fair level. Sherry and Tamsin, a woman with cerebral palsy and her longtime care-giver, who used to come in and do clay work together at the Craft Center. Ritta, retired burrito vendor, who's helping a friend at her pizza stand, and who buys the big osprey serving bowl, and leaves the bag with me until after her shift ends.
A couple stop in, tell me how much they love my work, they're taken some to the flat they've purchased overlooking the ocean in France. They're going back in December, but have no room in their luggage, because Christmas presents for her grandchildren (she's French), but will plan on taking some things when they go again in May. I give them a card, tell them to email me with what they'll be wanting so I can have it for them. Instead, they proceed to buy nearly $200 in octopus and crab ware, including a big serving bowl and French butter dish. I carry the bag to their car, and she promises to send me pictures for my blog.
I sell the wild turkey platter to a woman whose husband talks to them, apparently does a very good turkey call. When I show her the matching watercolor card, she gets that as well. A man stops in the booth to tell me he'd walked past on his first visit, but saw my ad in the guide, liked it so much that he had to look me up. Takes another visit, but he buys a pilsner glass before we close on Tuesday.
Market lost a landmark and legend this fall, David Miller, aka Frog, who used to hawk the Funniest Jokebooks the World Has Ever Known from his green plastic kids' wagon. Our new Holiday Market layout next year will incorporate benches for weary shoppers to take a break on, and the first one is painted with his likeness. I also saw this tribute--a disturbingly accurate Frog marionette, complete with crocheted frog hat, miniature jokebook and tiny rubber chicken.
He would have loved it.
A little boy with a remarkably accurate Hobbes stuffy who stops to say hello to my bear. I ask if they've been to the Bill Watterson/Calvin and Hobbes exhibit at the UO's Jordan Schnitzer Art Museum. Oh, of course, says Dad.
A dad and two daughters spent a good while, picking out the perfect Christmas present for mom, settling finally on a fox small squared baking dish, at younger ones insistence--Mom loves foxes! While I'm packing it up, he mentions that he has a sloth mug like the one on the shelf, a gift from a cousin. They all give me sloth things, because my last name is Slothower. A vague memory chimes in, Like Tom Slothower? You know my UncleTom back east? Turns out I do, sorta. He used to book the folk series at the Blue Whale Coffeehouse at UW-Green Bay, went on to become a folk music agent for John McCutcheon, and was my booking contact with Fleming-Tamulevich Associates when I was running the Heritage Music series and Willamette Valley Folk Festival for the UO Cultural Forum.
Old acquaintances stopping by: Bev, who was the Art Department secretary during my graduate school days--her husband is also a potter, though at the gallery rather than art fair level. Sherry and Tamsin, a woman with cerebral palsy and her longtime care-giver, who used to come in and do clay work together at the Craft Center. Ritta, retired burrito vendor, who's helping a friend at her pizza stand, and who buys the big osprey serving bowl, and leaves the bag with me until after her shift ends.
A couple stop in, tell me how much they love my work, they're taken some to the flat they've purchased overlooking the ocean in France. They're going back in December, but have no room in their luggage, because Christmas presents for her grandchildren (she's French), but will plan on taking some things when they go again in May. I give them a card, tell them to email me with what they'll be wanting so I can have it for them. Instead, they proceed to buy nearly $200 in octopus and crab ware, including a big serving bowl and French butter dish. I carry the bag to their car, and she promises to send me pictures for my blog.
I sell the wild turkey platter to a woman whose husband talks to them, apparently does a very good turkey call. When I show her the matching watercolor card, she gets that as well. A man stops in the booth to tell me he'd walked past on his first visit, but saw my ad in the guide, liked it so much that he had to look me up. Takes another visit, but he buys a pilsner glass before we close on Tuesday.
Market lost a landmark and legend this fall, David Miller, aka Frog, who used to hawk the Funniest Jokebooks the World Has Ever Known from his green plastic kids' wagon. Our new Holiday Market layout next year will incorporate benches for weary shoppers to take a break on, and the first one is painted with his likeness. I also saw this tribute--a disturbingly accurate Frog marionette, complete with crocheted frog hat, miniature jokebook and tiny rubber chicken.
He would have loved it.