Between April of 2019 and March of 2020, I did 27 art shows, selling photography prints and notecards.
By the end of that year, I could set up and break down my booth like a one-man pit crew at a Nascar Race. Along the way, I logged 30,000 miles in my van, devoured 50 bags of kettle corn, and more than once held on for dear life in hurricane-force winds and rain.
In February I set up my booth in downtown Seattle at the Northwest Flower & Garden Show.
A few weeks earlier the first case of COVID19 in the U.S. was discovered in Seattle, and In retrospect, mingling with 50,000 people at the Convention Center that week wasn’t such a great idea. By the middle of March, everything was canceled.
It’s been a year without art shows. I’ve gone from 27 to 0. This absence seems almost trivial in the scope of all that’s been lost in this pandemic year, but this feels like a good time to reflect on what I miss about being part of the traveling carnival of Pacific Northwest artists and artisans.
I miss the food, a hot scone dripping with butter and raspberry jam on the streets of Puyallup, a freshly-fried Piroshky at Salmon Days in Issaquah, a hot dog blanketed with sauerkraut at Artfest in Couer d’Alene Idaho.
I miss the conversations with people who wander into my booth – the discovery of shared awe and wonder at the beauty of this magical NW corner of the United States. I miss telling the story of how I put my camera in a fish tank to photograph spawning Kokanee in Trestle Creek.
I miss explaining how to see the Northern Lights in north Idaho.
The Northern Lights, the Milky Way Galaxy, and green ribbons of airglow above Priest Lake in North Idaho.
I miss people asking me if I took “ALL these photos,” and “How close were you that mama bear?”
Grizzly #399 and a clingy cub at Grand Teton National Park.
I miss seeing the delight on people’s faces when they discover the indigo bunting bluebird in an ocean of sunflowers,
A lone indigo bunting in sunflower fields north of Spokane, Washington.
I even miss the debates about whether it really looked like that, or if it’s Photoshop.
I miss the feeling of $1,000 cash wadded up in the back pocket of my jeans. I miss getting home and throwing the cash on the counter and declaring to my kids, “Fat stacks Yo!”
I miss wandering empty aisles during a lull in the crowds to commiserate and celebrate with fellow artists.
I miss meeting Facebook fans and Instagram followers in real life.
I miss trading notecards with another artist for pens and bottle openers made out of deer antlers.
I miss the Ginsu knife guy at the Tacoma Dome who wears a tuxedo.
I miss having a front-row seat to the goofy parade at the Renaissance Fair in Moscow, Idaho.
In a year of big losses, it feels helpful to acknowledge some of the little griefs, measured in scones and deer-antler bottle openers. They all add up.
Comet NEOWISE was one of the surprise joys of this pandemic year, shown here above Mt. Herman in the Mt. Baker National Forest.
It looks like shows will start back up this summer, at least that’s the plan.
I hope to see you then, and I’ll be ready to tell you about the white speck on the end of the eaglet’s beak,
and why the stars leave trails in the sky,
and how the Palouse is one of the most beautiful places on earth.
Palouse hills and blooming wildflowers, with Pullman, Washington visible on the horizon.