At art fairs I get a variety of comments, often unsolicited or simply overheard. There’s quite a smattering of ‘pretty’ or ‘nice’ – those who respect my work but don’t personally care for it; and there are comments from those who do like it. I rarely get someone who actually says something negative. In the context of an art fair, there’s typically just no reason for any of the attendees to specifically state that they dislike anyone’s work. We all know that tastes differ and are not bothered if someone isn’t attracted to our work.
I had a surprise yesterday. Two older ladies (maybe in their 60s or so) came in my booth and looked at my work in some detail. They barely acknowledged me when I went to speak to them and kept looking around. They were speaking in a foreign language and I could barely overhear them anyway. As one exited, she came over to me and wagged her finger at me and said clearly ‘Hate’. As the second lady exited the first one said to her ‘Jawohl’ – I know enough German to know that means ‘Of course’, but wasn’t quick enough off the mark to gather together a sentence to ask her why she hated it before they vanished into the crowd.
Being more surprised than upset, I thought I would tell my neighbor. Before I could go over, another younger woman with two kids (one about 8 one about 5), walked passed and both children pointed into my booth and told their Mom they liked my work.
I guess I’m pleasing the next generation more than this one!
I haven’t posted a sonnet in a while. I was going to post one about hot flashes (seeing as I’ve been enjoying to the extent that I need to start laughing about it) but Andrew Eales’ post this morning reminded me about this sonnet:
It’s in man’s heart, because it’s in his head
to merge both words and music into song.
There’re places in our brains they both belong
together – feelings more than just what’s said.
But too, we wonder how that seed was sown
that made us lilt our words into a tune.
Was it the wolves a-howling at the moon
or cat’s meow, or buck’s loud rutting groan?
It’s much more likely that the sound above
that we sometimes call angels, were the trills
inspiring us to develop singing skills
to tell our stories, feelings, sadness, love.
Whatever was that singing that we heard
outside our souls? It was a little bird.
Well this is more of a tale from the business desk of the studio. These three letters came in the mail today. In fairness I picked them all up today, they probably arrived over a series of days, I just present them in the order I opened them.
I’m sure these are all automatically generated. At least, for the sake of Arizonans, I hope so. Having previously spent 31 years in the computer industry, and about half of that working for government entities of some sort, I still think some test planner’s head should roll for allowing this kind of scenario to waste money. Not sure whether to laugh or cry.
The best part: This is probably in response to the fact that on April 19th I sent them a check for $2 for underpayment of something I couldn’t figure out what I’d underpaid. I thought my math was just bad on the sales on the check I wrote them in March for the show I did in February, and that they were probably better at math than I was….
Sometimes life give you just what you need. On Saturday I was at an art fair at Rainbow Stew in Yucca Valley. My neighbor, Christine Chase, had brought a project to work on during the day. She had a number of pieces of upcycled household objects that she assembled into a sculpture. At the end of the day, we packed up a little early because it had gotten windy and we were starting to get blown away. I helped Christine with the last few stages of taking down her tent safely. As she was packing she realized that now that the project was complete, she didn’t have room for the sculpture and the box that the pieces had been in. She asked if I needed a box. I said I didn’t, but had room to take it and recycle it appropriately.
As I disassembled the booth, it got windier. Because it had been a 1-day show with no chance of rain, I’d put the loose canopy top on. It’s easier to transport, I put it on the frame at home, but it isn’t waterproof. As I had intended to leave it on until I returned home, I didn’t bring the bag it goes in. As I was taking the booth down, it became obvious things would be safer if I removed the ‘sail’ from the top. I was bemoaning the fact that I hadn’t brought the bag, but then suddenly realized why serendipity had given me a box….
From the kinda cheesy to the kinda dirty, I love jokes. That said, here are a few art related ones I recently came across in a quick web search. Mostly cheesy. . ABOVE: Richard Prince, I Changed My Name, 1988, acrylic and silkscreen on canvas, 56 x 78.5 inches —— Q: What does a momma […]