I started writing this while minding at my booth at The Mane
Event – an annual equine extravaganza that has been an anchor of my fall show schedule
every year for the past decade or more. I was surrounded by my art and working
on a little coloured pencil demo project in between conversations with
customers and neighbouring vendors. When the day was done I packed up my
display for what feels like could be the last time.
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| My booth at The Mane Event (Chilliwack, 2018) |
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| My demo drawing of my good friend Hugo |
Throughout my career as an artist, I’ve been involved with events where participants bring their wares and set up for a few days to
engage with the public. I’ve been part of big events and small ones – from back-yard gatherings
of a handful of artists and artisans, to nationally renowned festivals that
attract vendors and visitors from across the country, to regional trade shows where art is just a small part of what’s featured. I’ve lugged more stuff, travelled more miles, and set up and taken down displays more times than I can
even recall.
A key component to participating in this type of event is
figuring out a display system. Mine evolved gradually from a humble handful
of scruffy home-made easels to my current slickly professional show booth. Many
events have taken place outdoors, and so I have transitioned from covering things up
with plastic sheets to erecting my sturdy canopy tent and setting up within its
cozy space. My “mobile gallery” is now a tidy affair that feels like home in any location.
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| My "mobile gallery" at the Filberg Festival, 2017 |
The weather has not always been perfect. Sometimes I’ve been
forced to batten down my tent with ropes, shield my art from driving rain, or
shelter it from the sun. A time or two I’ve looked on in horror as paintings
were blown from easels or drenched by downpours. I’ve driven through storms and endured heat
waves. I’ve been hot, cold, dusty and damp, but in
equal measure quite often the conditions have been just right – at least that’s
what I remember.
And when I reflect on these experiences, I think of the
people. I have met countless clients – some who purchase an art card, others
who have become collectors of my originals, and still others who have participated in my classes, or commissioned a custom piece of art – as well as artist colleagues,
vendors of all sorts of other wares, show organizers, and random passers-by.
I’ve had fascinating conversations, been puzzled by weird comments, learned
valuable lessons, and made firm friendships.
Because art-making is, for me, most often a solitary pastime I will miss these opportunities
to connect. However, the lure of spending more time in my studios –
particularly my cozy Mayne Island space but also my more urban mainland location – and pursuing the ideas I have for new
work is undeniable.
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| Inside my South Surrey studio |
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| Inside my Mayne Island studio |
Maybe some time in the future I’ll be coaxed out to take part in a street festival, or art pop-up, or trade show, but for
now I’m easing the door closed on that
chapter of my artistic career and flinging open the door to my studio(s). I’m going to head inside and make art, and that’s where you’ll find me. You’ll also be able to see
my work on line, and you’ll find it in galleries, gift shops and other venues.
As I finish writing this, I'm in my snug little Mayne Island studio on Day Three of the island's annual fall Art Studio Tour. I've chatted with visitors, sold a few things, made some new connections, and begun work on a new drawing. So far, so good!
