After the Spring Market

Okay, so I have my first real live craft show under my belt. I debated on whether or not I should discuss my lack of success here. However, I decided since this blog is all about my journey I need to disclose all. I sold absolutely nothing in the six hour-long show. Zip, zilch, zero.

I spent hours making jewelry and beading three wooden boxes for this show. I paid $10 for a half table space, I photographed everything, I put all of my items up on my Web site, I redesigned and printed my business cards, purchased shopping bags and stamped them with "Thank You". I cut squares of multicolored tissue paper to wrap shoppers' purchases. I designed a display that was unique and creative and truly unlike others at the show.

I worked hard.

Shoppers came to my table. Shoppers oooohed and they aaaahed. Shoppers picked up items and exclaimed about their loveliness and creativity to their companions. Shoppers asked questions about my items and they told me how fun they are, how pretty, how creative, how innovative, how....
Shoppers put my items back on my table with loving care and they walked away.

Want to know the best part of the whole day? This is the real kicker! There was a small step in the building. It was a step that was long and low and nondescript. It went around the entire lobby area and shoppers were tripping on it all day despite the valiant attempt of the organizers to mark it and constantly warn people. My 80 year old mom fell down the step and landed on her knees. She didn't break anything, but she did get scraped up pretty bad, and as he day wore on her ankle became quite sore. We kept it elevated and iced, and she thought she was fine. However, when it was time to leave, it was extremely difficult for her to walk on it. The last four hours of our day were spent in the ER.

My mom's blood pressure had sky rocketed, she has a deep tissue bruise on her right ankle, she won't be able to drive for at least a few days, and will need to get around her house with a walker. A good time was had by all.

Top of the Box - Top of the Weekend!

I did it! I have completed my jewelry box project by the end of the holiday weekend!
This is a photo of the box before grout. Notice that I left what is called "grout lines" - the curved lines in the piece. This is simply another way of directing the eye.


The next photo is the piece grouted and cleaned. I'm very pleased to have finished this project this weekend!! Off to class tomorrow!

Tick Tock

This is a pretty unusual piece. My 15-year-old daughter hates it. My 19-year-old daughter thinks it’s cool. It was fun to make! I took apart an old broken clock… well, I don’t think you can even call it a clock; it was the guts of a clock that was my uncle’s. He’s now in a nursing home and rambles about the Canadian Government (we live in the USA) and the nurses that work for the CIA. He seems happy in his world of secrecy and espionage… he gave me permission to take his clock before his stroke.

When I was pulling apart the old clock, trying to get all of the gears out, and looking for interesting parts I could use in my art, there was an old spring wound up tight. My mom was sitting there looking on. She said, “be careful that doesn’t spring and hit you.” It wasn’t two minutes later and that thing made a shrill “shriinggg” sound and sprung! It didn’t hit me, in fact it didn’t come all the way unsprung (if that’s a word), but it threw dust everywhere! The old clock was dusty, greasy, and covered with many year’s worth of time keeping collected in all its parts. A good soaking in WD40 cleaned everything up nicely.

I have two more clocks – one that was still ticking when my cousins brought it down from my uncle’s room even after he’s been in the nursing home for over a year – and another that is broken. I plan to use the parts for more jewelry, mosaics, and other artwork. I don’t know why my uncle had all of those clocks. My mom says my grandfather would be happy I’m using them. He used to repair clocks. I never met my grandfather, but I’ve always had a fascination for clocks and clock parts… I wonder if it’s genetic?