artisan_show epitome of incomprehensibility As an illustrious member of an Artisan Guild, I got to participate in a three-day show this past weekend, Friday to Sunday. Many of the other artists complained that they didn't sell as much as in years past, probably partly because the thing fell on a Halloween. Friday, Oct. 31, the room was pretty empty of customers. But I was happy with the thing overall. I sold eight framed batiks, which was my larger craft, and that made me happy since I enjoy making them, and thought they were something unique (if not exactly a skillful version of the art itself; my aunt is a professional, it's at her studio I made them, and I can't get nearly the same level of detail as she does). Some highlights: Darth Vader stopping by on Halloween night. (I just watched the older Star Wars trilogy with my brother over a period of a few weeks, and Darth Vader was a familiar face. Mask, rather.) Me panicking the first day and getting there late, as usual, but gaining more confidence on Saturday and Sunday and actually getting along well with people. Oh yes, and being startled in my pre-show rushing around when I had to go to the library to print something and seeing that the librarian was a cat. She grinned at my surprise - I was already a bit disoriented since the library had changed the look of its front desk - and when I realized the whole Halloween thing I blurted, "That's cute" before I handed over my card to rent a computer station. She was cute, too, besides the little nose and whiskers. Not in a particularly sexy way, just... cute. Endearing. Talking to a artist who recycles things like old shirts and lampshades to make gothic Victorian sculptures: birds and ladies with flowing dresses. Seeing pictures of her metalwork as well. It was all beyond my price range, but she made cool things and both she and her husband were great people to talk to. I'd been worried that the people there would be either "old ladies" I wouldn't have much in common with (age discrimination, much?) or people who closer to my age who'd be intimidatingly businesslike and snobby. A woman examining one picture, a batik of a bowl of strawberries and asking me, pointing to the batik, "Do you take this out when you put the photo in?" B. the photographer stopping by on Sunday. He moved back to take a photo of the table and I smiled, trying to be pretty; he found the beads more interesting and focused on those instead. I don't blame him! They were shiny, and I'm not. Besides, wasn't I worried earlier about him being potentially creepy to me? And being, by and large, mistaken? Of course, you could be creepy to people in many different ways, not just in looks-based or sexual ways. I think the real reason I was worried about him was that I felt he imposed his opinions too much, that he wouldn't like anyone disagreeing with him. But not so much. He bought a few little bead things for his mother and talked about using a polarizing lens to minimize glare when shooting things with glass frames. (And then the uncomfortable topic of income and affordability came up. But anyway.) Food for sale... except for those crust-cut-off white-bread egg sandwiches. Ugh. Talking to more people I knew, at least vaguely. One woman who made scarves had been a parent volunteer in my preschool. She expressed surprise at so much time passing when I told her I was 26 now. Then I said, laughing, "I'm not sure you have good memories of me if you remember me from preschool. I was kind of a terrible kid." She laughed and said, "I didn't want to mention it until you said that... but yes, you could be a handful." (Handful or hard to handle. Something about hands, anyway.) 141103 ... epitome of incomprehensibility Oh, and I made a profit of about $80. Not much in the grand scheme of things, but I did get to work on my surrealist novel for NaNoWriMo! (And today I've been lazy... avoiding work, reading news, and wallowing in past guilt. I'm not really depressed, not as far as serious depression goes. But it really is hard to be motivated more than a couple of days in a row. I wonder how many people have the same problem? I think I need to stop worrying about being a terrible person - self-hate itself is selfish - and actually do things. Easier said than done.) 141103 what's it to you? who go blather from