The Art Market Adventure!
Ever had that burning desire to participate in something while simultaneously feeling terrified to take the plunge? Yeah, that was me all last year. I spent months admiring local artists and stalking organizers of various markets throughout the fall. I promised myself that once I had enough stuff to sell, I’d finally set up my own booth at an art market. My eyes were wide with anticipation and my heart brimming with excitement, but little did I know what I was getting myself into.
I started researching booths, displays, and different setups, seeking vendor recommendations and contemplating the unpredictable nature of weather. Let’s just say it was overwhelming, but armed with a trusty checklist, I began gathering supplies. During the Cyber Monday madness of 2022, I snagged a tent and table. Over the remaining winter and spring months, I slowly acquired signage, a heavy-duty cart, art sleeves, and whatnot.
Come May, I signed up for my first-ever market in the dead center of a sweltering Georgia summer. Now, I must confess, I’m a classic overthinker, over-planner, and over-researcher, especially when it involves stepping out of my comfort zone and expanding my horizons.
In true Krishna fashion, I bombarded fellow vendors with questions, seeking tips for surviving my first market. Armed with an arsenal of advice, I meticulously planned every aspect of the event. But here’s a tip for you: if you can bring a friend, DO IT! Unfortunately, I flew solo, arriving early to unload my supplies and merchandise before parking my car.
I confidently began setting up my tent when suddenly, reality hit me like a flashback from a daytime sitcom. The canopy for my tent sat neatly folded in my closet at home, a cool 30 miles away. I had even heeded a vendor’s advice to pack the canopy separately to prevent it from damaging the tent. Well, guess what? I took the tent part out during a test set up, fully intending to put it in its own bag. And then I promptly forgot about it entirely.
Two important lessons learned here: prioritize advice that’s echoed by multiple vendors, and when a thought strikes, act on it immediately! Procrastination leads to forgetfulness—trust me on this.
The organizer kindly allowed me to stay and set up shop despite my tentless predicament. She even reassured me that I could leave early if the heat became unbearable (and trust me, it was going to be hella hot and humid). Now, faced with a choice, I pondered whether to pack up and head home or endure the scorching heat (sans hat, extra sunscreen, or sunglasses, but armed with plenty of water and snacks). I decided to set up my spot anyway, preparing for the market, but my mind was a battleground of self-doubt and frustration.
The internal dialogue went something like this: “Screw it, go home, no one will buy your stuff!” versus “You idiot, how could you forget the most essential thing you needed!” and “No, don’t go. Sit here in the sun and embrace the consequences of your mistakes.”
Believe me, I was seething with anger at myself, but I couldn’t afford to break down and have a toddler-like tantrum in front of people I had just met. So, I sat there, silently battling my feelings, trying to process it all while reminding myself to breathe.
About an hour or two into the market, I made the decision to tough it out unless I started feeling sick. I mustered the energy to take photos and shoot a video of my setup for later sharing. But as I zoomed in for close-ups, horror struck. Some of the art sleeves had water inside them. Apparently, the heat had activated the pigments, causing them to release moisture. Not to mention, my previously temperature-controlled art pieces were now baking in the direct sun.
Complete panic flooded my system. My originals were melting, and my prints were becoming a soggy mess. Not having a tent meant potential customers wouldn’t bother visiting my booth, as no one wants to fry under the scorching sun. I was not a happy camper, to say the least. Furious, I removed my originals from the table and stashed them in the coolest, shadiest spot I could find.
Luckily, I have some creative friends who’ve been through similar experiences. One of them suggested removing all duplicate prints from the table, focusing on limited merchandise to minimize the damage. It took a while to regain my composure and find my center, but I soldiered on. And guess what? At the very end of the market, I made two sales! One was from an incredibly talented and kind fellow vendor, and the other was from a girl who stumbled upon the market as people were packing up.
It was challenging, frustrating, and a solo mission that brought up a lot of emotions, but I did it! Sunburned and sore, but I freaking did it. And you know what? I’ll definitely sign up as a vendor again. So, see you at the next one, and let’s hope for a less eventful adventure!
