One Day at an Art Show

It is very important that you absolutely understand what I am about to tell you is true.

He kind of walked a bit like Mick Jagger on stage, that’s what I noticed the first time I saw him at the art show. An unmistakable presence. The other artists and vendors cringed, discreetly hid behind their booths, or ran to the porta-potties as they tried to avoid him. He was a rather disheveled, portly, 70-something man walking down the center show aisle in penny loafers with no socks, wearing cut-off overalls smeared with may have been feces and perhaps mud and hay. Probably a farmer or rancher, or – something like that, I thought.

Children cried, mothers gasped, dogs growled.

Smiling and coughing rather productively, he looked into each booth and greeted everyone warmly. He tried to make loud small talk with the artists that did remain in their booths. His speech was a bit pressured, and he did seem somewhat delusional, but so far – harmless.

He stepped toward my neighbor’s booth – overflowing with cheap, kitschy, recycled metal “yard art” meant to be stuck in the dirt outside one’s abode. He looked around, hawked up a loogey and spat it end-over-end style. The loogey flipped over and over before it nailed the “fifi” dog that stood near the corner of another neighbor’s booth space while it snarled at him. The dog’s owner had no clue what was happening. She was too busy looking at beaded jewelry made by one of the potters selling jewelry in the watercolor booth next to the yard art booth and trying to like hell to haggle. My neighbor greeted this messy visitor cheerfully, extended his hand, and shook the visitor’s filthy hand warmly. He began to tell him about all his crappy yard art – loudly – almost like he wanted everyone to hear him. It was beautiful – two salt of the earth types epitomizing the remarkable relationship between art-on-a-stick and a land steward stereotype.

You see, there is an old story about a wealthy pig farmer who was rudely ignored at the new car dealership because of his appearance, odor, and mental status by everyone in the showroom. This tale is usually set in the middle of winter and involves a young, eager, inexperienced salesman who ignored the man’s appearance and conducted himself as a professional for his customer while his more savvy co-workers laughed at their expense. As the story goes, the young man sold 5 (or 10) brand new trucks to the wealthy farmer and also received 2, maybe 10 crisp $500 bills as a result of his good manners and professionalism – much to the chagrin of the rude coworkers. The lesson from the story was to never typecast or profile a customer, you never know who they may be, etc.

I could see the situation playing out for my neighbor just like the story of the farmer in the dealership. It also reminded of me of the various sales techniques I’ve heard while selling art at the street shows and festivals. One self-appointed art sales guru has often said that the best revenge for a difficult customer is to – just make the sale. My yard art neighbor often told similar parable-like show stories to pump himself up for the show at hand. He liked to “psych” himself up and never hesitated to share his knowledge.

I was proud of my neighbor while I watched him discuss his work with this unkempt visitor while the other artists at the show ignored or avoided him. He’s a master of his craft. He was obviously making the man comfortable and the visitor was beginning to ask questions of him. The disheveled man stood shoulder to shoulder with the yard art vendor and began to stroke his stubbly chin – sure signs that a sale was going to happen! Apparently, standing shoulder-to-shoulder is a sign of trust and cooperation during the sales process. I was completely enthralled with all of this, this stuff never happens with painters like me.

I watched this interaction go on for what seemed like forever – I wanted to learn all I could from this event. Suddenly – the man announced: “I really like your work, how much if I buy your entire inventory – in cash?”.

The yard art vendor stammered and stuttered, I could tell he knew he was going to hit one out of the ballpark – he glanced over the man’s shoulder toward me and I gave him a “thumbs up” sign. The crowd that gathered to watch gave a loud collective inhale. . .

My neighbor’s head was spinning while he did the math in his head – I’m sure he finally figured to use the last invoice total – quadruple it – then take 15% off for cash and hope the gentleman accepts the figure. He whispered something back to him. The buyer looked at him and back at the booth space which extended well outside his marked space – (no self-respective yard art vendor stays within his space – ever!) – and he said something back to the vendor. I think it was something about that being the vendor’s best offer. The vendor looked at the ground, kicked the dirt around a bit and said something else to the buyer. My guess was that he came down a bit – he was really working the sale! The man’s appearance and odor didn’t matter – my neighbor was going to make the biggest sale of his life!

The visitor looked around the area while nodding his head and giving each art-on-a-stick piece a tiny glance before he gave a final nod and tried to clear his phlegmy throat. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of . . . filthy paper towels and wiped his nose and lips. “Too damn much!” he said and turned to walk out the booth. “I hope you have a good show!” he shouted as he strutted past my booth and winked at me before strutting down the aisle. “Dumbass!” he shouted over his shoulder as he swaggered down the park path and continued on his way.

The crowd exhaled as a group, moaned “Awwww”, and began to peel away – slowly at first – before the music restarted and people went about their day. I smiled to myself. Art is not widgets – it’s about emotion and passion. It’s not a “good” or a “service”. It’s more than that. Much more.

Later, sitting on the park bench after the show closed for the day – I could not help but give my buddy an extra bottle of wine to go with the brandy, ham sandwich, and $50 he earned for his valuable time spent with my neighbor that day. We had a great time swigging brandy, eating our dinner on the bench and laughing about the look on my neighbor’s face especially when my buddy left him standing in the middle of all his yard art.

“Urban legends – like shooting fish in a barrel.” I thought as I passed the brandy bottle.
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