Wear your Muddy Hiking Shoes to the Market
I'll be at the Old Sacramento Waterfront this Sunday!
The rain and mist have returned. Seeing that time in nature now equates to muddy boots. These become a symbol for identifying my ideal community this time of year. I love waving people down with the marker of mud at market days to ask where they hiked and what they saw. The muddy boot automatically reminds me we’re the same kind of people. Undeterred by the slop in exchange for beauty.
I love winter in Northern California. The grey days are a direct exchange for the hills turning green again. The environment is slowly coming back to life. Mosses become plush green carpets worth petting. Mushrooms are returning. Sword Ferns are stretching. Everything is glistening. It’s such a wonderful time to get out and explore!
On Sunday, we will get a short break in the rain, and I’ll be popping up my art shop booth at The Patchwork Show in Downtown Sacramento.
The event will take place this Sunday, December 15th, from 11 AM to 5 PM along the Old Historic Waterfront in Sacramento.
Here is the map, including where to spot my booth (29). So stop by, say hi, and let me help you shop for your nature-loving pals. BONUS: muddy shoes will earn you a 10% discount at my booth. So go on a hike and come tell me about it for a little savings this weekend : )
In this dispatch, I am going to share a bit more about why I intentionally choose to do markets like this one. If you’re familiar with the traditional paths for artists, you know that we are often encouraged to show our work in galleries. I did that exact thing for 10 years, and coming out of the other side of it, I realized that a lot of my disappointment came from a few core places:
The gallery system valued individual success over group success. Markets are about community and invite collaboration.
Sales were based on pure luck and happenstance. Markets allow artists and makers to share their networks with one another.
When I did sell work, I had to give 50% of the price to the gallery space that often only gave me walls. Even when I facilitated the conversation that led to the sale. Most markets require a booth fee but do not take a cut of the sales. This allows me to price my work affordably.
I realized that, being working class, I couldn’t afford to move to NYC or LA to try and network with the big galleries. Markets happen in all kinds of communities, and their integration with craft makers allows for the freedom to make products of my work that would be considered “taboo” by the art world.
The fees associated with exhibitions were high. Sometimes, I would foot the bill for half the show($$$$), or I would be personally responsible for framing every piece ($$$). The fees for markets are often directly correlated with the marketing costs and event rental of the host ($$)
In 2019, I lost my studio due to the building being sold off to a real estate developer. I felt a deep anger around how my community was used to up the value of real estate and then dumped. I couldn’t afford to rent another space, so I stopped working in traditional materials. I gave away my oil paints.
Instead, I started drawing on my iPad. I gave up on making work for the “art world.” Drawings of windows observing travel and romanticized lighting were what I wanted to make. A contract job in marketing landed me in California in January of 2020, and I started having massive aha moments. I started hiking the Bay Area trails and fell in love with the landscape.
Working in marketing taught me that there are ideal audiences for different types of art. I got curious about that but found myself distracted and tabled it to try and climb the corporate ladder. After my contract dissolved and I ended up back on the front line in retail, I caught COVID at work. That was December of 2021. The infection turned into Long COVID. My diagnosis and new disability shattered everything I thought I wanted.
The only place I felt called to was the trail. I no longer desired the success my company laid out for me. They wanted me to move on from masking and “return to normal.” But the only place this type of behavior felt safe to do was in the forest. I saw the cracks in the foundation forming around me.
I could no longer run or ride my bike. My lungs would burn if I tried to exercise in the way I used to for managing stress. Instead, I would go on slow, meandering hikes. Every weekend or weeknight I got the chance I would just walk, slowly.
On these walks my breathing was easier, and I could avoid tachycardia episodes (from my new POTS symptoms) by plotting out paths with moderate or low elevation gain. My symptoms started improving. I still use a strong steroid medicine daily to keep me breathing and comfortable. It has been three full years since my first and only run-in with COVID. I lost a ton.
I no longer sing karaoke in public, eat in dimly lit tiny restaurants, explore shops in the city, meet people at art openings, go to concerts, or attend parties at friends’ homes without worrying about the consequences.
Every time I go to the grocery store, I experience genuine hostility from strangers for my audacity to keep masking. Even my family forgets about my boundaries because they have moved on. So many people just want to move on. The forest and the hiking paths hold space for my grief. That is where I feel that I belong.
Nature shows me that change is a constant. That there is no “moving on” simply changing. As we rebirth, new growth follows the shedding and decay of what we lost. These spaces along the coast that have become beloved helpers in my life that allow me to grieve. I feel a quiet acceptance for where I am.
That’s what all of my art is about now. A celebration and honoring of this reverence that the natural beauty of Northern California holds me in.
These outdoor markets are a safe place where I can meet amazing people, connect them to my work, and be in community with other makers. I can show up as I am. I can mask when its crowded and benefit from the clean outside air for most of the event. I feel open to tell my genuine story.
Unlike in the gallery world, at markets I can tell these stories, I can be vulnerable. I am not confined to a press release or wall texts full of performative academic words. Instead, I can share trail maps of the places that inspire my art with the people who come into my booth with muddy shoes. Galleries would never celebrate muddy shoes.
The relationships with those around me don’t feel like competition but opportunities for understanding and reciprocity. We watch each others booths, we help each other take breaks, we help each other tie knots and secure weights to combat wind storms. We loan each other wifi and help troubleshoot our square readers.
This will be my final market of the year, and I have grown so much as an artist and human through the connections I’ve made in the eight markets I’ve done. I am finally able to share my work with the people who need it the most. The working class people who love the way nature makes them feel. Who need the reminders that beauty is all around us, at any season, and it’s free. We just need to get outside.
As a reminder, I will have one more Creative Club on my Discord Server next Tuesday December 17th and it will be the last one for the year. I plan to switch things up and do some knitting for this club! A new habit my cats are thoroughly enjoying.
Next year I am planning some very fun programs that will be available at sliding scale pricing and discounts will be provided to my monthly and yearly paid supporters. If you are a paid supporter, I want to thank you for your support and for reading this far, and I want to remind you to respond to this poll to let me know more of what you’d like exclusively from me in the coming year.
I hope to see many of you this Sunday with your muddy shoes at The Patchwork Show in Sacramento.
Until next time, Stay creative, and find your own ways to persistently bloom. 🌸
Mel
I really feel this. Trying to find my community and desired path, but also feeling left behind by the people who are ignoring the ongoing pandemic. Not living in a "hip" area where "cool" things happen. Thank you for sharing <3