I'm back from the Buyers Market of American Craft show! So much happened (and didn't happen) at the show. I can't imagine covering it all in one blog entry, but I gotta start somewhere, right?
We left the day of the season's biggest snowstorm. The weather report looked like we could actually drive through and past the storm, as it was initially predicted to turn to rain south of New York City. But that didn't happen. It was blizzard and freezing rain all the way down.
It was frightening seeing all the cars and trucks spun and jackknifed off the road. We actually saw three cars spinning out of control as we watched. There was nothing we could do except get out of the way and keep going. My friend Brian, who drove us down, did an excellent job of driving and navigating, and his truck gripped the road like a tank. Even so, sometimes I would have to close my eyes and simply pray.
We finally arrived only a few hours behind schedule, which was funny—I'd been counting on all the extra time we were going to save by driving directly to the show. But that was only the first of many "expectations" about this show that were also jackknifed and spun-out by show's end.
I had a killer booth location—a corner booth right in front of the main entrance.
My booth looked terrific.
My work looked gorgeous.
I've never had so many people who were drawn into my booth. Every single person said, "Fabulous work!" The buying team from the American Jewish Museum in Philadelphia came in and just looked in awe at my work. Now, my aesthetic is inspired by a prehistoric cave that predates Judaism by about 10,000 years. When I asked her what had caught her interest, she said, "I don't even know. I just saw the work and felt compelled to come in." They left without placing an order, of course, but I suddenly saw that one of my goals had been realized: Just like the Lascaux cave, my work now affects and moves people powerfully, deeply, without them even understanding why.
And I've never written so few orders in my life.
My frightening Visa bill remains, I'm afraid. I didn't even make show expenses, let alone enough to pay down my balance.
So how am I feeling today?
A little scared. A little weepy. A little embarrassed—"If I'm so smart, and my work is so great, how come no one BOUGHT it??"
But I'm also at peace with myself. As I said to my friends at one point during the show, "It's not often in life we are blessed with such a clear message that we are headed down the wrong path." (I just love using the royal "we", don't you?)
There were many compelling reasons to do the Buyers Market one more time, and they were good reasons. The Rosen Group has provided me many excellent opportunities, and I have benefited. BUT...
I've been operating in my comfort zone too long. It's relatively easy ("relatively" being the operative word here) for me to do the Buyers Market show. I have a mailing list, I know the facility, I know the show organizers, I know the artists. I know where to go when my lights break, or I need more price lists copied. I know where to eat cheap, buy tape, and catch a cab. I know HOW TO DO that show.
But now I KNOW that I will not succeed at that show. It has done all it can do for me, for now.
To go any further, I have to either change my ART or my STRATEGY.
I tried to change my art over the last few years. And that's not working for me anymore.
So I must change my strategy.
It's now time for me to step into my DISCOMFORT zone. Ooooh, I don't want to! It's easy to SAY that, but late at night, my heart pounds and my brain races like greyhound in a herd of rabbits. I'm overwhelmed with all the new things I will have to learn and overcome. All the new obstacles to deal with, all the new problems to tease out.
I'm thinking I may need to back up and do more high-end retail shows, and build a strong new audience for my work. I also need to focus on marketing to a northwest/southwest audience—as far northwest as Alaska, as far southwest as Hawaii.
I need to stop being afraid. (HA! Easy to say.) I need to make more wall hangings, make some BIGGER wall hangings. I need to get even more daring with my jewelry.
It's time to revamp my website. It's still wonderful—thank you, Jon!—but it needs to reflect the new work I've already done, and the new directions I want to go.
It's time to get braver about approaching new galleries in New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado, Idaho.
I had lots of excellent advice and feedback at the show, lots of support from fellow artists, show management and even buyers (who love love LOVED the work but cannot sell it in their stores.) I have thirty pages of notes on wise words I heard, leads I was given, observations I made and publicity opportunities that crossed my path. I'll share some of these insights over the next few days. I hope they give you something to think about in relation to your own art and marketing efforts.
But for now, we just have to fasten our seatbelts. It's going to be a snowy, slippery, dangerous, exhilerating ride ahead.
