Life As An Itinerant Artist

This week is the annual art fest in Ann Arbor — if you’ve never been, you owe it to yourself to go at least once! It’s a mob scene, with four major juried shows and several smaller, non-juried craft shows. I’ll be at booth 633 at the corner of William and Thompson street (State Street show), close to the conveniently located Thompson Street garage. Stop by, say hi, take home a lovely photograph!

The show runs Wednesday through Saturday, 10AM - 9PM on W, Th, Fr and til 6PM on Saturday. It’s a blast! Don’t miss it!

Just got back from the Cain Park Art Festival in Cleveland Heights, Ohio. It’s a great little show in a very different type of park venue in a pleasant residential neighborhood. This show lives up to its reputation of being the most artist friendly show in the country. And that includes the Krasl show in St. Joseph, MI and the Artisphere show in Greenville (written up here). Much of this is due to the hard work and great attitude of the show director, George Kozmon, and the festival coordinator, Honey Feinberg. They both made sure that they were on a first-name basis with every single artist in the show, greeting them during set-up,  remaining visible throughout the event, and staying until the last artist left.

Load-in times are assigned, and for good reason. Vehicles queue up outside the park and are admitted one at a time down tiny little service paths into the lush green ravine that is Cain Park. In the center of the park are a couple of galleries and a small outdoor concert amphitheater. Staff members coordinated this potential bottleneck extremely well, directing each artist to his or her spot. Some spots have space behind the booths, and vans can be parked right there. Others are backed up to a steep wooded bank. Setup went quickly on Friday morning, and after everyone was mostly done, there was a tasty light lunch served at the pavilion. Non-fattening, too.

The show officially opened at 3PM on Friday afternoon, and was free to all comers. This year, the City of Cleveland Heights decided to impose a $2 cover fee on Saturday and Sunday, and it caused some problems at the back entrance of the show. This gate was closed due to a lack of city personnel empowered to take cash and as a consequence, artists at this end of the park may have seen less traffic. In prior years, people got used to parking in the neighborhood and when they walked down the hill and were turned away, it was bad business for everybody. After hearing complaints from patrons and artists alike, George said that they would try to have that entrance open again next year. Change is not always a good thing.

Crowds were good, but buying tends to be sporadic. There were times when I thought I would become rich beyond my wildest dreams, I was so busy. Other times, it was a bit slower. The local audience loves the arts, and they are appreciative. Booths were packed all weekend with browsers. Saturday, the weather turned ugly around 1:30, and the rains poured down. We were prepared — this is one reason to get an iPhone — you can check live weather radar. Most everybody buttoned up and rode it out, but the rain highlighted the one major flaw in Cain Park.

Since the park is at the bottom of a small ravine (and the site of an old stream bed), when it rains the water seeks its old course, which includes some of the lower-level canopies. Many artists struggled with inches of water, muddy paths and gunk in the booth (that’s a technical term). And here is where the staff truly showed their mettle. They worked like dogs staying on top of it. They brought golf carts of fresh mulch to fill in soggy spots. They broomed away the excess water once it stopped raining. They relocated at least one artist that I know of because the booth became unworkable. And the miracle was that the crowds came back once the rain disappeared. George was on the PA system with bright encouraging words, and his salesmanship is truly one of a kind. You had to be there to believe it.

Sunday was a gorgeous day. It dawned cloudy and rainy, but the show didn’t open until noon, so that the artists could take a little time off for a lovely breakfast at the pavilion and participate in the award ceremony. Several awards were handed out, including an artist-selected favorite. Ribbon winners are invited back next year. Sorry to say I didn’t win one!

But everybody was a winner at this show — even though sales weren’t as spectacular as they could have beeen, and the weather didn’t cooperate as nicely as it might have. And the reason for this is the show staff. George and Honey pay attention to the smallest details. They are visible throughout the show, smiling and making sure that everyone is doing ok. George makes announcements over a special PA system about every two hours, letting people know what to expect. The show staff (not volunteers) compete with each other to see who can be the most helpful, shovel the most mulch, carry the biggest load or answer the most questions. Honey walks the aisles echoing the legacy of the late Harvey Feinberg, the previous show director. Everyone goes out of their way to make the artists and the patrons feel welcome. Unbelievable. Thank you Cain Park, for a wondeful show.

Just got back from Rapid City, the city of my birth, the city where my parents still live. My sister and her husband were out there, as was Karyn, the quintessential cowgirl. She once told me that she never wore blue jeans until she met me. But I digress.

Took a few days off to visit with family and to shoot some ghost towns, prairies, long lonesome vistas, things like that. Trouble was, smoke from forest fires in Saskatchewan obscured the sky for the first three days I was there, it rained on and off most of the week, and I only got a few shots off. Weather-wise it’s been a strange, strange year. I feel very blessed that we’ve had comparatively good weather, compared to the shows in Omaha, Evanston and other places that were hit hard by high winds, micro-bursts they call them. Wow. At Crosby Gardens, we had a few hours of rain, but it just drove folks into the booths to look at art.

While I was in South Dakota I did get a chance to visit the town of Fairburnn. Fairburn is south of Rapid City and sits on the eastern edge of the Black Hills. It’s fairly populous, about 70 in all, and the railroad runs through town. About half of the town is beat up and abandoned, and the other half is quite well-kept. Farms are dotted round the outskirts, and the school still keeps the kids out of trouble. Some communities on the edge of the plains aren’t so lucky.

We also had supper with some old friends, David Lamb and his long-time partner Andrea, who used to run the chain-saw shop in Hill City. Dave and Andrea have been working on their second ranch down near Newscastle, drilling a well deep into the Madison formation (1800′ down!) and running water to their small herd of cattle. Karyn and I ran out there to photograph the Lauzon school, saw Dave’s truck, but no sign of the two of them. Nice ranch. Their ranch near Rapid is also quite prosperous.

And lastly, I went up to Palmer Gulch, where I grew up as a kid and took my first photographs. It’s now a monster KOA campground, with tent cabins, lots and lots of campers, many many fires and a huge sewer right in front of our old friends the Hines’ cabin. Ugh. I did shoot a few pictures and told a few lies to some tourists that were staying in my grandfather’s old home, now turned into a motel room. It’s true that you can’t go home. I was glad to take another look, even though it disgusted me and made me sad. We still own the property at the bottom end of Palmer Gulch, and my siblings and I stay down there when we visit. But now I’m back in Michigan, and you can catch me in Cleveland or Ann Arbor in July.

June was good. Two fun shows in Ohio, lots of rain, and the end of the show at the Paint Creek Center for the Arts. Sold some work at all three venues, which always makes me feel good. I like to send the work off to new homes. Had a day off and now I’m off to the Black Hills to see my folks and to make some new prairie images. Sitting at the gate at DTW, I’m barely awake at o’dark-thirty. It’s going to be a beautiful day.