Back under the tent

My sister Sarah in our home away from home

Back under the tent

I once made key chains in the shape of Volkswagen Beetles.  I used my mother’s jigsaw and cut out the cars, painted them yellow, red, blue or black, added windows, a door, tires and headlight details and threaded key chains through a drilled hole.

 These I sold here and there including a couple of times under a tent at a craft fair with my sister who was specializing at the time in Maine shore birds painted on collected pieces of driftwood. I borrowed on this concept and did some wildflowers on found wood scraps and also made toddler dresses from fabric end pieces as well as purses from spent oriental rugs.

 This was four decades ago and crafts as a career especially under a tent folded fairly quickly.
 So, when my sister Sarah and I were invited, on the strength of our shared website, to peddle our art in a tent at the Yarmouth Maine Clam Festival this July, I could have been more enthused.

But, for the sake of old times plus a love of clams and Maine, I acquiesced. 

On a late July Thursday evening, I arrived on our allotted scrubby plot to help erect a borrowed tent with more parts than an advanced erector set with my sister and her husband Bill. Nearby, carnies set up their rides and cotton candy and lime rickety operations while in the near distance, ringing a parking lot, were dozens of vendor booths promising every culinary take on the clam imaginable.

 It was not promising.

 Only, it turned out to be really fun. Yarmouth is a lovely town even layered over with a 47th annual clam festival that turns out to be a beloved civic event that attracts loyal and friendly organizers, artists and festival goers.

 Going from show to show all summer and for some artists, all year-round, is the way they make their living.  We met artists in their 70s who are kept spry by traveling with their tent and art from Maine to Florida and back.

 We learned a lot of tricks of the trade, too – like you should sit on a tall chair at the outside corner of your tent so you can see eye-to-eye with your customers making it harder for them to turn to their companion and remark, “Our dog could do a better job.”

 We learned you shouldn’t clutter your tent with furniture and obstacles that prevent clear access to your art and you shouldn’t overly chat up the people who stop in.

 So, on a rickety card table we removed along with its tablecloth, from our décor, I painted a vase of day lilies – also removed from our little home away from home. I used acrylics and a small gallery-wrapped canvas and stuck the finished piece in the show immediately. 

 It didn’t sell but other paintings did. We made friends, ate fried clams, and we’re doing it again next year.