Yesterday I exhibited at my first craft show, and it was interesting to compare the experience to comic shows (which are normally more my bag). Since I’ve applied to craft shows before but never been accepted, I was nervous. I wasn’t sure the crafters would accept me into their clan.
Luckily, the experience was wonderful! Crafters seem to be just as supportive and excited about each others’ work as indie comickers are. Just as shy, too. I mean, I’m used to comic exhibitors practically throwing their necks out just to avoid eye contact and using any excuse to leave the table rather than discuss their own work (and I’m including myself in this group). So it was kind of charming to see crafters with their beautiful, elaborate displays of hand-woven jewelry … likewise all crouched in a corner, panicked when a customer greeted them.
Here are a few of the things I noticed:
- Lots of pregnant women with adorable babies strapped to them in various intricate contraptions
- Maxi dresses in wonderful patterns
- Lots of supportive comments from visitors, telling me they loved that I was a writer, illustrator, and designer (which means now I’m allowed to refer to myself as a triple threat, right? In my mind?)
- A great variety of jewelry, perfume, wearable things, hangable things, loveable things
- A MUCH better smell wafting through the place as a whole. Sorry Comic Cons, but crafters have you beat. No longer was there the whiff of B.O. swirling about – instead it was just the sweet aroma of savory soaps and perfumes. Yum.
- I met Young House Love superstar blogsters John & Sherry, whose mere presence shamed my boyfriend into taking on more home improvement projects. All part of my evil plan!
- Regrettably, my work sparked this question in a little girl: ”Mommy, what does -” points to my Tiger print “- ‘sexy’ mean?” My bad, mother of little girl.
I also picked up this little number from Monkey Dog Studio:
As well as checked out some gorgeous stuff from:
After the show, Dennis and I dragged ourselves on over to the Sine Irish Pub. There, we did some pub crawler participant watching (too drunk at stop #1, they were) and I obsessed over the safety of my car in an “Honor Code” parking lot until Dennis put money in the parking lot slot. Has anyone else ever encountered a parking lot, with plenty of empty spaces, on a Sunday, with a big scary sign that tells you you still have to pay something, even though it’s Sunday and no one’s around? Oh well, it was enough to have me shivering in my britches, so even though everyone we asked told us we didn’t have to pay, my honor remains intact.
Peace out, Richmond, that was a wonderful Sunday trip! And I can’t wait to go back to Spring Bada Bing!