This past weekend, I participated in the Trenton Avenue Arts Festival. It was an experimental endeavor, for sure, and my friend and fellow artist, Beth Nentwig, agreed to participate in the experiment with me. My mom also contributed some very cool bracelets that she’s been making for the last several months. From a sales perspective, the event was an abject failure. I sold nothing. Not one thing. Not even a single hand-printed linocut card. Needless to say, it was disheartening.
In the 24 hours following the event, as I reflected on the festival, I figured I had a couple of ways to approach it. I could take the defeatist approach: “This is proof that the things I make have no value, and therefore I should just give up making them and trying to sell them.” But that’s not really my style. Plus, one data point hardly seems like enough to draw conclusions about the value of one’s work or whether exhibiting at future art festivals has value. I could make excuses (some of which might even be valid): “The festival goers were cheap. The rain kept people from making last-minute purchases. The audience wasn’t right.” That might make me feel a little better about myself, but it really doesn’t prepare me for future sales endeavors. And it’s not really my style, either.