I don’t do nearly as many shows as some artists do. I re-met some friends at a show in Steamboat Springs this weekend who do 35 shows a year. (35!!!!) This year, I think I did 3. It was a pretty light year. Last year, my heaviest year, I did 7 or 8.

There’s a lovely special feeling when you’re at a show. Your neighbors are your friends. You talk to them, you chat about their work/your work, you talk about other shows, how they were good/bad. You talk about the nuts and bolts of booths — where did you get yoru tent? How long have you had it? Does it do OK in the mountains? You have HOW much weight on each leg! Those glass display cases are lovely. The talk can go on and on (and it does, depending on how busy the show is!)

When I’m setting up for a show, or breaking down, that is when I feel like I must have an idea of how carnival folks live, with of course, major differences. We put up tents, decorate the tents to be enticing to passers-by, and set up a little mini version of “life” behind the counter where we sit all day, with all the necessary accouterments to sell for 1-3 days and be comfortable and keep busy at the same time. Scissors are lent to neighbors and step ladders are borrowed. Help is given with that wall that just doesn’t want to zip on properly.

And then when the show is over, everyone breaks everything down, says goodbye, promises to write — as if it’s the end of summer camp, which in a way it feels like it is (except without nearly as much fun).
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