After the First Craft Fair: The Learning

Well, my stress level has gone down. My first big craft fair/art fair is done. All-in-all, it went pretty well, and I probably prepared about as well as I could have, given my inexperience. Now I have to learn my many lessons before preparing for the next one.

Aside: about that next one…I've been blessed with up to seven weeks of jury duty starting in mid-May, so I am unable to make any commitments to shows taking place before mid-July.

So, how did I do? Not too bad! My strategy was to suck people into my booth with a two-pronged attack: First, put a few of my best images on an aisle-facing wall, and the rest of my best stuff in large format on the back wall, which is what people see the most. Second, put my art bins right up front, to provide every shopper with that familiar experience of flipping through lots of matted images. I chose not to have a table filled with items, which is a tried-and-true tactic, but one that didn't suit me, as I had very few items that might work there. I instead used my table space for email sign-ups, business cards, brochures, free post cards and some decoration. I did sell my calendar and the smallest of my matted prints there. In the future I may find myself with lots of magnets and coasters, and my calendar will be prominently displayed, but I may opt for wall shelves instead of cluttering a table.

Once interested, I was hoping to provide easy-to-reach price points for the expected throng of shoppers who didn't have a ton of money. (I noticed another novice artist selling their items at gallery prices. It wouldn't take many sales to justify that strategy, but given the crowd at this particular event [generally moderate-spending locals and not freespending tourists], I wonder if it actually worked.) Volume rather than big ticket was my approach. And my biggest sellers were not a surprise: 5x7 and 8x10 prints, and notecards, especially my 3 for $10 deal. I only moved a couple of large units (both canvases), and just a few of my smallest 4x6 prints. My prints on aluminum… well, I'll get to that.

Other successes:
• I was very happy with my credit card reader, which worked perfectly.
• I had a squishy fatigue mat for the long hours of standing. I love that thing.
• I had shopping bags, business cards and brochures ready, and people appreciated them.
• I got about as much traction from my email sign-up sheet as I'd hoped (but PB, JM and SW, if you're reading this, you either print terribly, or my eyeballs are shot, but I really, really tried to figure out your email addresses! Shoot me a note and I will get you on there!).
• I handed out about 80 free postcards with a coupon code. We'll see if that leads to any sales.
• I put enough price stickers and tags on my works that almost no one had to ask what something cost.
• My rugs looked damn good.
• I got a lot of compliments on my work, even from people who had no intention of buying.
• I got to talk about a lot of my prints with curious shoppers (mostly, "where was that shot taken?," which I found fun). One woman even saw her house in one of my photos! (sale!).

And of course, there were some failures.
• The weather was too nice for an indoor show, and Saturday's turnout was abysmal. I was expecting traffic similar to last year, when it was mobbed, but this year's event was held too late in April, and people didn't want to shop indoors on the first beautiful Saturday after a harsh winter. I can't blame them. I'm sure there was a lot of lost revenue that many vendors weren't anticipating. I need to carefully consider the weather and venue for my next show.
• Without a developed strategy for arranging works on my walls (Should it be by similar colors? Shot location? Print medium? Dimensions?), I simply made my best stuff most prominent. Going forward, I think it's probably smartest to also separate the Hidden New Hampshire images from photos taken elsewhere in the world, as it confused some. They would see a photo of the White Mountains on one wall and Greece on another, and feel compelled to tell me "That's not in New Hampshire!" Yes, that's true, and I'm not trying to deceive anyone, and I am sorry (But my branding of Hidden New Hampshire was working!).
• A Hidden New Hampshire book (basically an expanded version of my previous calendar/s) would probably sell, so I need to find a way to create and publish them inexpensively.
• Too many people wanted to know where something was shot, but my labels only provided the name of the image and the price. I need to include locations going forward.
• I brought with me some extra images, mats and frames so I could replace prints that sold. Pipe dream. They took up too much space, and I had no time to make replacements. If I need to, I can replace one or two in the evenings after the show and avoid hauling all that stuff around.
• My presentation of the metal prints was inadequate. While shoppers may have been curious and impressed, they did not buy. Metals cost more than matted prints, but they also go home ready to hang without the extra expense of frames, glass and hanging hardware, bringing them closer to an equivalent price. I could have made that more clear to my customers. Also, the way I affixed the metals directly to my walls was unimpressive. Many metals are "float mounted" with a 1/2- to 1-inch thick backer that makes them appear to "float" off the wall. I can retrofit mine to do that. And if I back light a few with fairy lights, I will greatly increase the wow factor.

One shopper, an experienced photographer, came for a visit and spent a good 15 minutes critiquing each of my works. And by critiquing, I don't mean pointing out which photos he thought were good and which he thought were bad. He pointed out the flaws in EVERYTHING. But, since I have a thick skin, I stayed right with him all the way, discussing my works objectively and using our conversation as a learning experience.

One of many. And I loved it.

Are you the good stress or the bad stress?

It's been way too long since I posted a new blog entry. Sorry.

I've been consumed with getting ready for my first craft fair. Of course, I've been working very hard, not just getting stuff done that needs to get done, but designing, Actual, real life designing. Yes, I've ordered lots of photos, in paper, metal and canvas. But I've also had to create a booth. And a booth isn't just something that goes into a space I've paid for. I'm way beyond a sign and some tables.

I've put deep thought (and deeeeeep internet searching) into my table, walls, rugs, art bins, signs, price tags, giveaways, bags, brochures, and all the way down to the kind of pens I'll be using. As a creator and builder of brands, I'm creating a brand new brand – for me. Design by Kristian Gustafson will have a physical manifestation as a seller of photography. I'm pretty sure I'm not allowed to screw this up.

Somewhat cleverly, I've now utilized my company's alternate brand mark for my photo business. Not so cleverly, it's called "Photography by Kristian Gustafson."

But I'll also be hammering on what will become the real brand. Not me, nor my unwieldy name, nor some silly tiki symbol. The phrase "Hidden New Hampshire" will be very prevalent in my little booth, because that idea has legs. I think it has a chance to be remembered, show after show, by the "craft fair crowd". Also, I am quite aware how difficult it probably is for folks to recall my actual name.

So, despite all the coordination, planning, and shopping (!) that has gone into my product, booth and brand creation, I'm still feeling pretty good. Of course, for all my preparation, I sure as heck can't anticipate what I will have done poorly (or well), when my first show ends and I reflect back. My motivation is keeping me searching for the perfect approach, which of course, I cannot achieve. As a wise friend of mine once said after a new venture, "We didn't know what we didn't know."

Also, did you know there are two "stresses?"
There's distress, of course. But, also its happy brother eustress.

Eustress is the good stress that motivates you to continue working. Stress can be a motivater and provide incentive to get the job done. This "good stress" is what eustress can be identified as and some people enjoy it. Everyone needs a little bit of stress in their life in order to continue to be happy, motivated, challenged and productive.

(from Brock University's website) 

See you here later for the post-mortem!

A Brave New World…of Handmade Cutting Boards

I'm about to embark on a great new adventure in my professional life. It's been about a year since I started my business, and this dream came along with it, but I didn't have all my stuff together during calendar year 2014 to pull it off. Seeing all the work I've been putting into it for 2015, there's no way I could have managed it before now, anyhow.
What the heck am I talking about? Why "handmade cutting boards?"

Craft Fairs.
You've all been to them, probably many times. Often spur-of-the-moment or by whim. Some are themed, and some are part of larger assemblies of people. But you're all familiar with the small booths and tents set up with scented soaps, organic dog treats, homemade jewelry and… photography. There's always photography.

And so I venture into the 2015 craft season with my own stack of lovely photos to sell to folks. I'm not sure how many items I will be able to sell. Nor am I sure how many shows I will do before things wind down in the fall. Or which shows will be best suited for me. The interrelationship of these factors will become more apparent as the year goes by.

I DO know I'll start to figure it out while at the enormous NH Made show in Manchester, NH this April 17-19.

It's a very good thing that I'm excited about it, because it's uncertain whether this business model and I are compatible, and it's a tremendous amount of work to get up and running. But, my enthusiasm keeps me confident of financial success and keeps me pushing through the huge to-do list I have. I'm not complaining. Some folks need to ship truckloads of stuff, arrange for people to unload them, hire helpers, pay for electricity, pay for internet. and then actually have to sweat and toil the whole time they're there, cooking things and doing demonstrations. I have it easy. I'll be sitting on my stool, being charming and answering questions, while my photos hang on my walls doing the heavy lifting for me.

Still, the amount of things I had to tackle has added up to a mountain. Thanks to Bob Estrin for his handy guide!

I didn't have a mobile selling space. That meant buying ready-to-assemble walls, bins, tables, and a rug. And getting it all decked out with signage that I'm designing.

I didn't have a way to take peoples' money. That meant I had to sign up with a mobile card-reading service, like Square or Amazon Local Register and connecting it to my bank.

I didn't have a selling strategy or list of prices. That meant doing a lot of pricing research and creating a spreadsheet containing every single cost for every single product, in hopes that my efforts will be properly rewarded.

I did have a photography website set up, and they have a preferred printer. Still, that meant revisiting all 50+ images I hope to sell, re-cropping them to fit standard sizes, and painstakingly re-adjusting each one to my printer's preferences using a color profile, so that I'll know (more-or-less) that my prints will come out looking as I expect them to.

Lastly, I didn't have a gigantic pile of images to sell. That meant paying for several small prints of each image, and then again in both medium and large sizes. And buying hundreds of bags and cardboard mats. Being signed up with several printing outlets and hawkishly coupon-watching has kept my costs way down. And that means affordable prints, for you, dear customers.

Some of these many costs won't have to be repeated, as I will re-order things that sell and re-use my booth hardware (until I need a tent for outdoor shows, that is!)

So look for me in the brave new world of kitten outfits, soy candles, water purification systems, and the teak cheese boards. And treat yourself to a lovely photograph while you're there.

An efficient trip to the mountains

I'm very lucky that I have a wise and patient wife. I seem bent on combining my business trips with our pleasure trips. We had a nice stay at a favorite bed & breakfast, got to see the beautiful White Mountains of New Hampshire, ate some great food, and had a fabulous day of cross-country skiing.  All good.

But I had a short list of things I wanted to photograph. Oh, and two retail stores to check out. Also, a couple owners to meet. Somehow, I managed to do all that while keeping my wife entertained. The retail part of the trip went just fine. I've been scouting many brick-and-mortar stores throughout New Hampshire that might be interested in selling my Hidden New Hampshire calendar for 2016. Every time I wander more than a few miles from my home, I've got my list of stores handy so I can kill at least two birds with one chunk of Granite.

So far, the responses I've gotten have mostly been very positive. It's been fun meeting business owners like me who love New Hampshire and want to celebrate it. Thankfully, I'm now confident enough showing my photographs to them that I can ask them to carry my product. Some are really good photographers themselves, which is usually helpful, but sometimes intimidating.

Of course, any trip to the White Mountains would be a waste if I didn't have my camera ready to capture some cool, lesser-known spots. It was beautiful out the day we wandered around, so getting a good view of Cathedral Ledge wasn't too hard. The ice-climbers made me nervous, though. Props!

Diana's Baths is a fabulous place to wander around the other three seasons of the year, but Winter at the Baths was rather magical, too. Not just for the frozen waterfalls and pools, but the sounds of mountain streams rushing under them all, too.

Traveling the nearly-famous Kancamagus Highway was less successful, though. Many of the scenic overlooks and pull-offs are not maintained between Fall and Spring and were therefore inaccessible. We did stop at one view, where I plopped down in the snow for a good angle of the mountains to the north, but the light was high and flat, and the experience of being there wasn't going to translate well into a 2-D image. Granted, the other tourists had a better time than I did, seeing a lunatic laying on a windy, snow-covered hillside to take a few pictures.

There's lots to see and explore on "The Kanc" in Winter, but my wife and I were not keen on spending a lot of time there. We had forgotten our snowshoes, and needed to travel a while longer to find much-needed lunches. So I was hoping serendipity would strike the few times we hopped out of the car. It did not.

Still, it was a great trip from all accounts. I should endeavor to be so efficient for the rest of my trips into the far corners of this great state.

When humans couldn't see blue

I recently read an extremely interesting article about the perception of color. Of course, I was drawn in by the title, "No one could see the color blue until modern times." What??
But really interesting things about humanity's past were revealed, as relating to language and perception. It struck me that this subject related to my profession, as well. Actually, it relates to everyone's profession, and proficiency in general. And what it means to be an expert.

If you don't have time right now to read this very interesting article by Kevin Loria, I can use some quotes to sum up before moving on.

Until relatively recently in human history, "blue" didn't exist, not in the way we think of it.

…ancient languages didn't have a word for blue — not Greek, not Chinese, not Japanese, not Hebrew. And without a word for the color, there is evidence that they may not have seen it at all.

The only ancient culture to develop a word for blue was the Egyptians — and as it happens, they were also the only culture that had a way to produce a blue dye. 

So before we had a word for it, did people not naturally see blue? 

…without a word for a color, without a way of identifying it as different, it is much harder for us to notice what is unique about it — even though our eyes are physically seeing… it in the same way. 

So before blue became a common concept, maybe humans saw it. But it seems they did not know they were seeing it.

If you see something yet can't see it, does it exist? 

There's even a physical test included in the article that perfectly demonstrates that when people use different sets of tools (words), some won't see a simple distinction that you and I easily make every day – and vice versa! At first, I thought I was staring at eleven blocks of identical green, until the author asked me to pick out the one that was different! It took me a few moments, but I was able to. I imagine some of you would not.

The vast majority of people can name every color in a box of 8, 16 and maybe even 24 crayons. But do you know what mauve is? Or chartreuse? You can probably "see" them, as the ancients "saw" blue, but either cannot distinguish them from their neighbors purple and green, or must resort to using extra modifiers like "dull-" or "bright-."

Did you know that Brazilians, with a populace comprised of every shade of human being, make no fewer than 14 racial distinctions? It's just something they think about a lot more than we do.

Which brings me to the professions in the visual arts – designer, decorator, photographer, artist. Yes, we see blue. But we're also SO used to seeing blue in all its varying shades that we probably make more distinctions than the average person can. Can you imagine an interior decorator who accidentally reupholstered your sectional to match sky blue instead of navy blue? It wouldn't happen because people in visual professions have the language, the words, and the mindsets to deal with appropriate subtleties and complexities.

Here's a color test I took to determine my own color acuity. My eyes almost fell out of my head, but I'm happy to say I scored (low being good) a 3 out of 99. How will you do?

I humbly ask that you respect an artist who might criticize a photo as being blurry, out-of-focus, grainy, low in contrast, undersaturated, overcooked, jaggy, banded or blown out, while you only saw "not so good." 

And I promise to defer to your own expertise, in kind.

Being a Professional Photographer. Kind Of.

I certainly take enough photographs to call myself a photographer. I even sell some photographs, which technically makes me a professional photographer. But that doesn't describe what I do very well.

I'm not a wedding or event photographer, because I don't have the desire, the open weekends, the battle-training or nearly enough equipment.

I'm not a studio or model photographer, because I don't have my own space, or nearly enough equipment.

I'm not a travel photographer, because I don't get sent on trips to take photos, and I certainly couldn't make enough money to pay for my next trip by selling pics of my previous trip. I might not have nearly enough equipment.
I don't do wildlife or extreme-nature photography. Those guys are absolute rock stars, camping on snowy ledges overnight to capture rarely-seen animals or sunrises over volcanos. Also, I don't have nearly enough equipment.

I suppose what I am is a glorified amateur photographer with a little bit of equipment, an above-average travel schedule, and a lot of tenacity when it comes to finding a way to make a living doing something I enjoy.

I'm far from being rich, well-known, or even financially comfortable, but I intend to try like hell, because there's enough I love about this profession that makes me want to actually succeed and become a true professional.

So, while I continue to claw and scratch at the other part of my job – my REAL job of graphic design, I keep on taking photos, using some advantages that few other "semi-professional" photographers have.

My strengths:

• I get to travel quite often, thanks to certain older relatives who have retired and moved South, and thanks to my awesome spouse, who gets invited to conferences all over the globe.

• I see things that other photographers do not see. I'm not exactly sure why this is, but I suspect it has to do with my later-in-life arrival to the photographic world, my advertising and retail experience, and my 20-year career as a graphic designer. I've got to capture what others have missed, because (as I have made clear above) I have neither the time, equipment, nor financial resources to get a better picture of the Eiffel Tower at sunset than everyone else. But I might – just might– get one unique and wonderful picture.

• I will crawl up a hill or lay down in the sand if I suspect I can capture a cool angle.

• I have a deep focus for post-processing my images. To an outsider, I might appear to be a crazy person who stays up too late, re-cropping and re-exposing photos to get them just right, using every tool available in Adobe Lightroom, while listening to Pink Floyd and drooling a little.

• I've got just enough self-loathing to admire my own work very briefly, before calling myself a hack and vowing to get better at what I do. I talk to other photographers, read articles, watch how-to videos, and experiment with technique. Not as much as I should, but a whole lot. But also, not enough.

If you're interested enough to buy one of my photos, either via my calendar, my website, or at a craft fair, I thank you most sincerely.

But I also promise to keep my fire stoked and show you better pictures the next time.

Photo Safari to Hancock, NH

I recently made a same-day decision to drive out to Hancock, NH, in order to capture some New England winter quaintness. If I want to keep creating my Hidden New Hampshire calendar year after year, I can't fill it with only summer and foliage shots. Not only because it would get boring, but the 2016 calendar will go to print before the leaves turn.

The town itself is about 40 minutes away, so I packed my camera, tripod and snow pants and headed out on an afternoon that – somehow – wasn't windy, snowing, or insanely cold. It's been a rough month!

I'm trying not to beat myself up about the photographic results.

It was chillier than I'd hoped. Also, after a few minutes of wading through knee-high snow with equipment, my hardiness meter fell. I had hoped to last long enough to capture the glow of the setting sun on the town, but an enormous cloud bank put an end to those plans, and I just did a little exploring instead before heading out. The sun mocked me by coming out for a few more golden minutes when I was halfway home.

“Failing to prepare is preparing to fail.”

- John Wooden

Great quote. And I was guilty as charged. I didn't do more than glance at the weather forecast. I didn't have many backup targets in mind, after the meetinghouse. I should have had other locations scouted out beforehand. Even for a tiny place like Hancock, there are articles to read, images to google, online maps to virtually wander, and histories to consider. There's… well, it's work. And like everything else worth doing well, it can be tedious.

Still, goal number one was to capture the town meetinghouse in afternoon light, and I got some very good shots. In fact, I realized later, upon examining my images, that I had been very efficient with my camera settings, tripod handling, and decision-making, which tells me that I've clambered to an ever-so-slightly higher plateau of competency.

If we ever get a break from this weather, I'll be ready (darn ready!) to head to my next photo safari.