Luann Udell Artist and Writer

OPEN STUDIO, OPEN HEART
(Another article from Crafts/Business magazine! Jan/Feb 2005) (And just in time for our upcoming open studio events…)

You know what we hope for when we open our studio to the public?

We hope everyone in town decides our work will make the perfect Christmas present, and hordes of shoppers will descend upon us, buying everything in sight.

It doesn’t quite work that way. In fact, this was my fourth open studio this year, and true to form, there was no form. No rhyme. No reason. Like life itself, it was the usual mix of the predictable and unpredictable.

There was the unexpected spat with my teenage daughter. She used to beg to help me with these events. Now she wants to spend the weekend with her boyfriend. Her boyfriend! Heck, I gave her life! It’s a battle I won this year, but I foresee humiliating defeat on my end in the years ahead. Time to look for a new show assistant.

Just before we opened, I got a phone call. An eager customer asking for last-minute directions? Yes, she was looking for directions, but no, she was not an eager customer. She had a box of sewing goods to sell to me. This is my pet peeve–people who try to sell you something during an event we’ve spent hundreds, or even thousands of dollars to participate in so we can sell something. I can attract a Mary Kay consultant from 500 miles away just by setting up my booth… I felt a sharp retort coming on, but held it back, offering the person an appointment after the open studio event.

Saturday morning was brisk. One woman spent quite a bit of time browsing. First, she wanted to buy a stamp I’d carved. (They are not for sale.) Then she wanted my handmade buttons, which I don’t sell separately from my artwork. “One of those people” was a thought that crossed my mind, but “Be nice, be nice” followed shortly after. I’m glad my mother raised me right, because the woman eventually bought severyal pieces that accounted for half my sales for the weekend. She’s happy, I’m happy. I move on.

There was the art teacher who wanted me to tell her how I make my artifacts, so she could use it in a school project. I get this all the time, too. I simply pointed her to my books on polymer clay and the comfy corner chair. She’s happy, I’m happy. I move on.

There was the couple who traveled for hours to visit. There were the passersby who saw my “Open Studio Today!” sign on my front lawn and dropped in on a whim. The person who showed up with a lost earring for me to replace. The person who decided they couldn’t live without another necklace from me. And the person who couldn’t find anything of interest in my entire studio except for my private collection of turquoise nuggets.

One woman came by just to see our guinea pig. (He was part of our promotion to attract families.) She made me promise to come and visit her guinea pig someday.

Our new neighbors dropped by. The boy spent the entire time rubber stamping a card calling for victory against a rival hockey rival, while the mom and daughter ‘ooh-ed’ and ‘ah’ed’ over evry piece of jewelry.

Truly something for everyone! They were all happy, and they made me happy. I move on.

Finally, as closing time drew near, there was one woman who stayed forever, looking at everything but buying nothing. She finally asked hesitantly if I would look at her artwork. I was exhausted, and I could feel that sharp retort just below the surface…but resisted.

The look on her face…. I remember that look. It’s the kid on the outside of the candy store window, looking at the wonderful sweets she thinks she can’t afford and can never have. I used to have that look myself, when the thought of being an artist seemed like an impossible dream. I remembered, too, all the kind and wonderful people who helped me along the way, offering encouragement, advice, and support. They were the ones who said, “Come in!”

I did look at her artiwork. It had promise. I made a few suggestions for preserving and presenting it better. I told her to keep doing it. I was so tired, I don’t even remember most of what I told her. But I remember she was happy when she left, so I must have been kind. That made me happy, too.

The woman with the box of sewing goods? She showed up right on time the next day. It was a wonderful collection of vintage goods, just the sort of things I shop for, and the price was right, too. She was happy, I’m happy.

And we all keep moving on…..

Moral of the story: Art events aren’t about making money today.

It’s not who comes by (buy?), it’s who comes back.

And sharing our stories, our inspiration, and giving support to others is powerful in so many ways!

Open studio.

Open heart.

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