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'Tis the Season
Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah & Happy New Year! I hope you’re enjoying the holidays with those you love and eating lots and lots of wonderful food. I certainly have been. In fact, I'd have to say this was one of the best Christmases I've ever had.
Normally, my father flies out here to Los Angeles because my sister and her family live here as well. He bought his ticket this year – and promptly threw his back out. Given that he first suffered back damage in 1944, it’s an extra tough experience for him. Not wanting Dad to be alone on Christmas - Mom died long ago and he never remarried – I elected to fly back to Buffalo to be with him. And, thanks to Belle Armoire’s wonderful editor Michelle Flores, I had something very special tucked under my arm to show him.
Unfortunately, before I got to Buffalo, Dad was in the hospital recovering from bronchial pneumonia, which he contracted from lying on his back for days to rest it. The morning I arrived, though, Dad was ready to go home. But – big surprise - there was no sign of my father’s assigned doctor. Dr. Ogre, as the nurses call him, had left orders not to be paged until after noon. I, on the other hand, had just taken an all-night flight, and in the middle seat to boot. My mouth tasted like dirty socks, my eyelids felt furry, and my mood was severely south of cranky. Thus, the aforementioned quack was beeped several times prior to noon and I soon had Dad in the car.
Fortunately, I had an extraordinary gift for us to peruse while we awaited Dr. You-Know-Who. It came courtesy of the aforementioned Ms. Flores, who'd sent me Belle Armoire's January issue - which includes our first magazine cover. The cover photo’s truly remarkable, as are the ones featured inside. I can’t fully express how grateful I am for the great care they took with the presentation of our jewelry. Not that I’m surprised, given Belle Armoire’s consistently high quality. But, to be completely honest, if you could just see the actual piece and then compare it to the cover…
...your jaw would hit the pavement. Hard. Trust me.
All their choices - the lighting, the setting’s color choices and the composition – were impeccable. That magazine’s something I’ll treasure til the end of my days.
And Dad’s reaction? When I walked into his hospital room, he looked so fragile and weathered sitting in the hospital’s tattered plaid reading chair. But when he saw the magazine, his face brightened with a serene pride that washed color into his cheeks. “Look at that,” he said quietly. “That’s just terrific, Mish. That should get you a lot of recognition.” He seemed so satisfied, looking at that cover. And when he saw my mother’s name mentioned in the article I’d written, his soft smile made me grin like a first grader with her first good report card.
As I stood there, watching him leaf through the pages, I recalled Michelle Flores asking about my father’s influence on me as an artist. “He loved that we were all artistic when we were growing up,” I said, referring to my two older sisters and me. “But he hated it – I mean HATED it - when I wanted to pursue art as a career.” He fought me tooth, nail and otherwise, even after my mother died. For years, I couldn’t stand talking to him about what I was doing because I knew he despised it. “I want you to get a good, safe job with a good, safe company,” he’d say, refusing to see that there were no longer such jobs or such companies.
But a change occurred a few years ago. He'd been talking about a book he was putting together about my mother since she died in 1988. I'd see all the photos lying on the dining room table on the few occasions when I went back home to visit, and assumed he'd never finish it because he just couldn't seem to accept her being gone. But, amazingly, Dad finished that book. It took him 14 years, but he finished it and presented a copy to each of us for Christmas 2002. It was his own work of art, this homage to my mother, a testament to his love for her. It’s truly a masterpiece, bound professionally as it is, and with photos and letters I never knew existed. Such care he took. Such an attachment he had to her.
That afternoon, after we’d opened our gifts at my sister Emily’s home, he told me how patient the printers had been with him and his book back in Buffalo. I hate to think how many times he had them rework things, given that my father didn’t become a successful businessman by overlooking details. And to top it all off, this was about the love of his life.
But at long last he was satisfied with it. “Then they needed me to sign off on it before they started printing the copies for you girls,” he told me. “I just stood there, with the pen in my hand, staring at the line I was supposed to sign on. ‘She’s really gone,’ I said. ‘She’s really gone.’”
That Christmas, everything began changing between my father and me. He had at last accepted the fact of my mother's death. With his signature on the printer's contract, he bid his final goodbye to her and stopped punishing the earth, air and family around him for her passing.
A year and a half later, I summoned the courage to set out my wares at my very first arts festival and thus Half the Sky was born. I sold one thing that day and had to discount the price to boot. I could’ve given up but I inherited Dad's tenacity and, to my surprise, he proved to be a great supporter and a good business advisor. Yes, that Harvard MBA of his still comes in handy.
Mind you, he's still my Dad - which means I'm tempted to put a boot in his backside once in a while and no doubt that feeling’s mutual. But he and I have both worked on how we get along and now we have a great time together. Though he’s concerned about the difficulties inherent in what I do, he’s found a way to worry and encourage at the same time. And if he forgets to do the latter, there’s always that boot in the backside. He even reviews my business plan with me and reminds me that the numbers do matter.
Why was this Christmas so special? Granted, just having five days away from L.A. to eat, sleep and celebrate Christmas where there’s a chill in the air generated gratitude aplenty. But being able to show Dad something I'm so proud of, and to tell him it wouldn't have been possible without his help and support, made that hour or so we sat waiting in the hospital together time I'll never forget.
Maybe I'm not so perturbed with that doctor after all.
(NOTE: Mish is my old family nickname derived from Mish Mosh, which somehow emerged from the song “Monster Mash.” Apparently, my family thought I was a monster when I was a toddler. Shocking, I know.)
Arts Festival Lowdown – Part 2
Arts Festival Lowdown – Part I
Admit it. You have a little voice in some cerebral corner saying you might, just might be able to sell that beautiful jewelry or those colorful knit sweaters you’ve made. There may also be friendly and familial voices surrounding you that exclaim, “You should sell these!” whenever you give them a gift you’ve made yourself.
Now let me hear those excuses for not doing it. Mine was that it was a lovely fantasy that gave way to brain freeze as soon as I faced the reality of such an endeavor. I had no clue, no experience in starting my own business. A lack of confidence in myself as an artist only delayed me further.
But, obviously, I got over it and got down to it. Now I encourage you to do the same. I have met such kind, creative and funny people doing what I do. The other artists inspire me and have kept me company on slow days. My customers have become my friends and entertain me far more than the other way around. (Check out last week’s blog to read what I’m talking about.)
There are several ways to begin. You might try a party or two organized by friends that’s geared toward selling what you’ve made. That can be a real confidence booster. But eventually you have to step outside your circle and see what the world beyond has to say about your work. Daunting, I know. I was in your position not so long ago and I started by going to arts festivals because I had to figure out my market, acquire a client base and get comfortable with being my own salesperson.
Didn’t that sound professional? I may talk the talk now but – trust me – I was clueless when I started. I hope that by telling you how I began and what I learned I may to inspire you to get out there and give yourself a shot. Will you feel nervous and a little scared? I sure did. Should you wait until that feeling abates? No, because if we all waited to act until anxiety ebbed away, we’d still be living in caves.
First, price your wares. Include the cost of supplies and your labor. How many hours or parts of hours did each one take? Have you put together some marketing materials? Figure out how much they cost per item and add them in as well. At the least you MUST have a business card. I also had a small brochure I’d designed. There are a number of software programs that make this very easy to do. Otherwise, have whoever’s putting your business cards together do it.
Additionally, to do an art show you’ll need some tables and perhaps a canopy if you’re outdoors. Ask around – a lot of people have canopies propped in their backyards that you may be able to borrow.
Now I’ll let you in on some things I wish I’d known before starting. For example, how do you decide which festivals you’d like to take part in among the thousands offered every year? As it turns out, there are a number of ways, both online and in print, to get information about them. I was a subscriber to Craftmaster News and, if you live in the Western US, you can’t beat it. It comes out every other month and is by far the most thorough and informative. There’s also Festival Network Online and Bob’s Lists. Bob’s been doing this for a long time and still does his leg work. I even met him at a show once. He’s quite a character.
First and foremost, make sure any festival or show you’re considering has room for arts and crafts vendors. Then look for the three W’s: where, when and whom to contact. Other major considerations include:
BOOTH FEE: They range from as low as $25 to several hundred dollars. I’d say the average for a good arts festival in Southern California is $250 for a weekend.
ATTENDANCE: Foot traffic is vital. If you’re paying $250 for a booth space, you’ll want at least 5,000 people trolling the show to generate enough sales to make it worth your while.
LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION: What’s true in commercial real estate is true here too. If it’s in a popular park or busy street area, great. If the festival’s set up in the far off reaches of some unused parking lot, not so great.
SIZE OF SPACE: Are they all 10’ x 10’ or do they vary in size depending on how much you’re willing to pay?
INDOOR OR OUTDOOR: Will you need a canopy or not? And if it’s outside, is there a rain date in case of inclement weather? It rained at my first arts festival and I only sold one thing.
WHAT KIND OF FESTIVAL: Is it a festival linked to an outdoor free concert? In my experience, these don’t lead to good sales because most people just come for the music and maybe a bite to eat. The exception to this is if the show has a long history and the arts part of it has been popular in the past and has some prestige. Do they only allow handcrafted work? If not, you’ll find yourself competing with a lot of cheap manufactured goods, especially if you’re a jewelry designer. And, frankly, if you make jewelry, no matter what kind of show it is, just know there’ll be a lot of other jewelry vendors there. But fear not! There’s plenty of customers to go around at the good shows.
In Part II, I’ll talk more about picking the shows and some of the better festival organizers to check out. In the meantime, if you have any specific issues or questions you'd like me to address, just let me know.
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