Spending 3 hours in the ER with a dislocated kneecap was not how I planned for this morning to go.
No, it was supposed to be a triumphant day at the To Life Jewish Cultural Street Festival, showing – and ideally selling – gobs of new art, prints and cards.
Apparently the Universe had other ideas.
A pain in the butt
If you’ve ever exhibited at a street festival or open studio, you know how much work goes into it. To put it bluntly, it’s a pain in the butt.
Much as I enjoy interacting with the attendees (hell, it never sucks to have people rave about my work), with primarily wedding-related art to display (ketubot and invitations), I’ve never had enough inventory of “ready-to-buy” stuff to make the considerable time and energy investment pay off financially.
In fact, my mantra for the past decade of doing the fair has been “I’m never doing this %$*@#%& street fair again!”
Famous last words.
The thing is, several years back the festival organizers held a competition to design the logo for the fair, and I won. And though they hadn’t planned on any compensation for the winner (exploiting artists being so ubiquitous that even directors of non-profits assume it’s standard operating procedure), I negotiated annual free booth space. Plus a yearly license fee to use my design on T-shirts, etc. (A fact of which I am still particularly proud.)
And since the space was free, I kept going back, hoping that this year might be different from the last.
It never was, but this time, 2010, I was hopeful it really might be different.
I had some good reasons for my hopefulness:
- I had a whole slew of new ready-to-sell designs to show.
- The van was packed at 7pm last night – a record!
- Even more amazing still, I was in bed, with the lights out, at the unheard-of hour of 10:30!
- And the kicker: I slept straight through – no insomnia!
Until 7:03 this morning, I was on track to have the best street fair exhibit ever.
The Universe throws a monkey wrench
Then I slipped while stepping over the rim of the tub after my shower, and the next thing I knew, my kneecap decided it wanted to try hanging out on the side of my leg for a change.
In case you were wondering, this is not good.
In a split-second, the trajectory of my day took a sharp detour.
Instead of a face frozen from smiling nonstop and a voice sore from talking to fans, I would have a face frozen in a grimace of pain, and a voice sore from screaming and moaning.
I won’t tell you about the EMTs and paramedics who managed to get me down the stairs and into the ambulance (the morphine might have helped).
I won’t tell you about waiting three hours for the doctors to pop the kneecap back in place (after the first set of x-rays, mind you). Or how surprisingly easily the kneecap slid back (if I’d only straightened my leg all the way in the bathroom, could I have avoided all this mishegas?)
I won’t tell you about my schizophrenic ER neighbor, who kept “hearing” her daughter in the next room.
I won’t tell you about the river of tears of pain, and how it mingled with the river of tears of frustration that I’d done 95% of the hard part of the street festival, and would be getting none of the payoff: no “oohs” and “ahhs” over my art, no sales, no orders, no new names on my mailing lists.
(And did I mention that they changed logos this year, so I actually had to pay $200 for the booth space I never got to use?)
Instead I’ll just tell you that I’m putting more and more art up on this site, and I’d very much like to find good homes for all of it. I will soon be installing a shopping cart, but in the meantime, an email or phone call is all it takes to get a lovely piece of art wending its way straight to you.
So if you like my work, or you know anyone who might, contact me and I’ll hook you up.
And now the question is, was today’s misadventure a final notice from the Universe that it’s really time to say “farewell” to the To Life festival? Is it an indication that it’s time to put all of my energies into showing my work online, and just give up entirely on 3D/”real world” shows?
The Vicodin may be affecting my thinking, and I guess I don’t have to make a decision one way or another right now. But it’s sure feeling that way at the moment.
What do you think?
You poor thing! I know how painful this is, as I popped out my knee while skiing some years ago. The only good thing was that it popped right back into place! But it was still an awful experience. People had to carry me back to the car and the knee swelled up like a watermelon.
As to your street fair, I would see it as a sign that you’re done with all that. I used to do the Arts and Crafts racket for years before I moved into my store location and I found that it was never worth all the effort I put into it. All the setting up and breaking down, and then the unappreciative visitors who want a lot of something for nothing. Who knows, you might have been spared a really disappointing and depressing day.
Seeing that now you have to pay for your space again, put that money into selling your stuff online.
Well, this ended up longer than I thought. I wish you a speedy recovery and much success with your sales.
Thanks for the comment, Sylvia. I’m inclined to agree. And yes, it’s the setting up and taking down that is the real pain in the butt. Plus the unappreciative visitors (though the appreciative ones are wonderful :))
I’ve dislocated kneecaps a number of times in the past, though this badly only once before. As you say, though, even slipping out and right back in is not a pleasant experience! The human knee just wasn’t designed very well… :
The actual message here is that you absolutely must put an end to slipping while stepping over the rim of the tub. This is not easy, and could mean a fully integrated always-present new mindfulness practise, akin to Feldenkreis. But when it’s the Delphic Oracle that speaks, daughter from the next room, the words are always clear enough yet shelter a startling ambiguity puzzle.
When the Delphic Oracle speaks, oh Wise One, one is best advised to open one’s ears to the ambiguity puzzles contained therein. Indeed.
Oh poor you, I hope the knee gets better soon. I agree with Sylvia, that’s a very definite sign that you’re not meant to do it next year.
Thanks Kirsty! And keep me posted on how your hand-holding offerings go!
We really missed you…and hope that you’ll give us another try next year…wishing you refuah shelimah…
Thanks Randi I missed being there.
So, so sorry to hear about your mishap. I’ve been through a few broken legs myself and my heart truly goes out to you. This too will pass and there will be some ***&*&* gifts that will come from the detour I know you’ll see but in the meantime, it’s tough and not fair. I would love to help out if I can in some way. I come down to Sunnyvale every other weekend to see my boyfriend so if you need a delivery of something or a visit or just want to chat about the experience. Please feel free to contact me. I’m in the last week of planning for a big annual event I do on he 15th so this week is nuts but I’m serious. I was so appreciative of the help I received when I broke my femur that I like to pass it on to someone else in need when I can.
Thanks Debra. I’d love to see you, and I’ll be happy to take you up on it! Even just a chat. 🙂
Melissa I am so sorry this happened to you! As someone who knows what is involved in getting ready for a festival, I can sympathize with your frustration and disappointment in not being able to participate this year. While I did not have to endure the pain you did, I was faced with a similar decision about art festivals when my beloved, but old “show” van finally became unfixable. I too felt like it was an outside force leading me to at least take some time off, which I did. After doing my first show in two years last weekend, I am again contemplating quitting them entirely.
Take care of yourself. I am sending good thoughts your way.
Thanks Dianne! Those danged art festivals really are a lot of work. :-} Your post about how to do them well is super.