
Though last year was my first market season, it was NOT my first market experience. As scandalous as it may be, I did in fact, host my own booth one time before at the very same market the previous year as a one-off entry to fill a week's vacant spot.
For my first market EVER I showed up woefully unprepared but sported a stellar naïveté that accompanies us dreamers as we set off on our maiden voyages. For this event, I had borrowed a tent and folding table from my roommate but did not think to borrow any weights to hold my tent in place for the day. Lucky for me, another one of my many roommates happened to be in the booth beside me and could spare a couple weight blocks to keep me from creating a Mary Poppins situation from happening. Armed with a wicker basket, a heap of prints (which at this time consisted solely of my après and animal kingdom series) and a measly array of stickers fanned out along the table, I waited for glory to come calling. Perhaps glory was feeling ill that day, or perhaps its chariot had malfunctioned on the way, because glory, it seemed, had stood me up. I devoutly stood behind my wares while bestowing my brightest smiles to any and all that wandered my way, hoping to be the picture of amiability, ease and inviting charisma. In reality, I must have accidentally landed on an image more akin to a curly haired Chucky doll pleasantly in pursuit of his prey. It would seem, that unbeknownst to me, I had made that classic folly of becoming “the Warden”; a mythical market creature who scares away potential buyers by being too present in their tent. At the close of this market day, I was able to break even with the entry fee with a leftover hefty profit of $2. A humble fortune indeed.
Even the blind could see the whale--I obviously didn't know how to successfully host a market booth; I needed to find more tips and advice on how to do better. As the internet often does, I instead happily found advice on how to do worse. I found from multiple artists blogs that the grim reaper of successful sales was said to be transforming into the "warden"-- the keeper of the grounds in your booth. The watchful eye that bores down on the innocent soul that has taken the time and risk to enter your booth to check out what you have to offer. Upon reflection, it was clear to me that I had unknowingly transformed into this awful creature with my smiles and watchful glances as a person flipped through my wicker basket of prints. Never once leaving my post of being directly behind the table in case the time and opportunity of a sale presented plumage. While I was smiling like a politician on election day, I should have, instead, been carefully ignoring people unless they absolutely demanded attention; this would allow a safe space for them to walk into the booth and check out my artwork without feeling the pressure to purchase. It seemed like the obvious solution. Not another thought was spared for what else I could have done poorly on the day-- like having my table set up near the back of the booth, or having all of my prints in a single wicker basket that would force people to chance coming in and flipping through things they did not know if they would be interested in. My mind was made up, the solution was clear, I must slip into the shadows like a creep in the night.
This was my mindset and thought process marching into my first full market season; ignore the people, make big bucks. I slipped into the extreme anti-warden. One or two might wonder if I was perhaps blind as I would spare not even a glance at a person who took the time to wander into our color-bomb of a booth. Not a hello, not a goodbye, just embodying the quiet personality of a turnip. Turns out-- this extreme also does not work. I mean, who wants to buy and support someone who won't even take the time to look them in the eye? This is art. It's storytelling. It's based on connections, whether it be connection to the artist, the visual, or the backstory. People who want to buy art are interested in meeting the artist & are excited to learn about what inspires you to make your pieces. Obviously cat calling, following them around the tent like a puppy dog and rushing them as soon as they look your way are faulty tactics to creating genuine interest but welcoming someone into your tent and saying a brief, and concise line about what it is you create and offering any help or explanations should they want them is not an act of a warden, it's being a helpful salesman. This attention will not drive away a potential customer because chances are that if the person could not cope with such a small personal interaction or acknowledgment, then they probably weren't going to buy anything anyways. Instead, knowing exactly what you are going to say, in a succinct sentence allows the person to let you know what level of interaction they would like to have with you, without being overbearing or hurting their pride at being ignored. Or so I have come to believe after spending much more time wandering various markets and deciphering how I feel I should be approached or acknowledge as the curious customer.
Have I created a chance to test out my new, moderate theory? No, I decided that I would not commit to any markets this season. I may, however, look for the opportunity to try my hat once again for more one-off events or festivals when the opportunity arises. Hopefully, participating in limited market days will help improve my opinion and experience with market participation while also developing my sales skills. Or, perhaps, I will hate doing markets until my dying day. Only time will tell, but in the meantime, I guess I will continue to give it the old college try.
As always,
Keep it offbeat!
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