Holiday Greetings from Fobotopia

Or, “Deck the halls with bots of folly”.

The 2011 Annual Online FOBOT Sale

It’s almost time for the annual online FOBOT offering! At noon Eastern Time, November 1, I’ll be uploading a whole new gallery of bots available to purchase on the website www.ifobot.com . The pictures on the site are, of necessity, somewhat small, so if you’d like to see larger images of the bots you’re interested me, email me and I’ll be happy to send them to you. Once you’ve made your decision, email me and I’ll mark your selection as “sold”. When I’ve packed your purchase up, and know where it’s going, I’ll be able to give you exact costs for shipping and insurance. And do consider having you bots shipped to your business address, where there will be someone available to sign for it–I hate having boxes left out on the doorstep.

New this year–want to preview the available bots, rather than making a snap decision at noon on Tuesday?  The FOBOTS now have their own fabulous Facebook fan page!  Go to https://www.facebook.com/pages/Fobots/177798345638076
and click the thumbs up “Like” button at the top of the page. I’m still adding pictures of the new bots as I finish cleaning up the images, and “Liking” the page will enable you to see in your newsfeed when new pictures have been uploaded. You’ll also be able to see breaking FOBOT news, share pictures with friends, and generally make me and the bots very happy.  Here’s one of the new guys now on Facebook; meet “Sparkler”.  He’s made from a vintage candy tin, pool ball, hinge pins, doorknobs, Christmas lights, doorstop, clock gear, and hydraulic fittings. Enjoy, and I’ll see you Tuesday.

Scenes of Carnage and Devastation From the Great East Coast Earthquake

Before you scroll down to observe a photo revealing the cruel power of Mother Nature once again unleashed against some poor, defenseless Fobots, let me set the stage for you.

It was nearly 2pm yesterday afternoon, and I was hard at work in the Fobotorium. What little of my brain that was not focused on the task at hand–namely, drilling holes into a “Ben Hur” cayenne pepper tin–was thinking about the approaching hurricane. Hurricanes are a fact of life here in North Carolina, and with the exception of Hurricane Fran 15 years ago, have little effect on those of us living so far inland. Unless you count the swarms of people at the grocery store depleting the shelves of bread, milk, and eggs. What is it about natural disasters that makes North Carolinians crave French toast? But I digress. The house started to shake. First thought–the washing machine is off balance. Second thought–I’m not doing laundry. Third thought–I’ve left the bench grinder on. That always makes the room shake. Fourth thought–no, it’s off, and anyway, even though it’s powerful enough to make Mongo flee the room in terror when it’s on, it’s not this bad. Fifth thought–this feels a lot like the earthquakes I grew up with in California. Sixth thought–oh my god, California’s having an earthquake, and it’s so big we’re feeling it all the way out here.

It took the local news media several minutes to respond to the breaking story, but when they did, they obsessed about it like…well, like Mongo trying to pull every last bit of stuffing out of Squeaky Skunk. I mean, a slim chance of a hurricane hitting us AND an earthquake in the same day? Local newscasters were wetting themselves.

I bring you now to the scene of devastation I found when I searched for damage:

Mongo didn’t even wake up.

Fobodyssey

As previously threatened, here (finally) is the epic story of our travels this summer. Four shows in five weeks without driving home between them may be good for the gas mileage, but it’s hell on one’s personal life.

First stop: Columbus Ohio.  I think I’ve written quite enough about Columbus (see previous blog post).  That storm was one of the scariest things I’ve ever experienced. According to witnesses, one tent caught the gale just right and ended up stuck in some trees, two stories up. But we survived, my back has recovered, and we’ve already been invited back next year. But here’s what gives me pause–maps of the layout for next year’s fair, which moves back to its original location at a riverfront park, show most of the artists’ booths on the two bridges over the river. Sorry, but no freakin’ way. There’s nothing blocking the wind for miles, and if we get another storm, they’ll be fishing art out of the river for months.

Here’s a weird anecdote about the Columbus show. At the thirteen previous shows we’ve exhibited at, we’ve had maybe three requests total for a dentist robot. At Columbus, we must have had a dozen. What gives, Columbus? Was there a dentist convention going on there at the time? Are you all obsessed with dental health? Were we the victim of some kind of bizarre flash mob or practical joke? So here you go, Columbus–meet the Tooth Fairy:

Next up: Chicago, for the Old Town Art Fair. But first—shopping! We must get asked 400 times a day, “Where do you find all your stuff?” Our new favorite answer–and pastime–stopping at antique malls as we drive between shows.  Here’s the haul from Columbus to Chicago:

And what else did we do in the five days between shows? The Field Museum (awesome), the Chicago Art Institute (awesomer), and the Shedd Aquarium (seriously un-awesome, as it was cold and rainy and absolutely crawling with unruly kids). Given the choice of looking at live fish or a video display to help one identify said fish, kids will completely ignore the live fish and focus on the electronic ones. So here’s a picture from an exhibit of electronic art at the Art Institute. Yup, that’s us on the video screen. No irony there…

The Old Town Art Fair is the only show for which I will wake up at 5am for a 6:30am setup. It’s THAT good. Even though it had been raining for days, and the only thing worse than setting up at 6:30am is setting up at 6:30am in the rain. Miraculously, the rain stopped just in time, though the cold lingered and I had to buy a winter coat that evening. Did I mention this was June? But sales were brisker than the climate. I even sold a bunch of my best, more “high end” pieces to some very discerning collectors. I love you Chicago.  Please invite us back next year. Pleeeeeeaaaaaase?

Flew home Monday to furiously restock before show #3, a week and a half later. Picked up the van in Chicago and drove to Des Moines. Not our biggest show, but definitely one of our favorites. Great organizers and volunteers, a kick-ass party for the artists Saturday night, and a beautiful setting encircling a sculpture park. Here’s a picture of my favorite piece, an three story tall seated figure composed of metal letters, by Jaume Plensa. It looks like he’s watching over the row of lighted tents, blessing and protecting them.

We’re on the far left. No horrible storms THIS year until a full two hours after we’d packed up and left. Woohoooo!

And then…more junking!

Finally, the Cherry Creek Art Festival, holder of the record for most Fobots sold in 2010. You know the cliche, “It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity”? It really is true. Temperatures parked themselves in the mid-nineties all three days, and it was so dry it was wonderful. At least, compared to the sauna that is North Carolina. It’s so dry (how dry is it?) that if you get the turndown service at the fancy hotel we were staying at, they don’t leave a chocolate on your pillow, they leave a bottle of water. Seriously. By the end of the day, deer were coming out of the woods to lick my face, it was so salty. And I did suffer one injury–after two days, back in the hotel, I felt like I’d burned the thumb and forefinger of my right hand. Couldn’t figure out how I did it for the life of me. That is, until I got back to the show Monday morning, and tried to twist open the first of probably a dozen bottles of water for the day. Yup-I’d developed “water bottle hand”. Can I get workmen’s comp for that?

Once again, students sponsored by Janus, and armed with large amounts of cash, descended on the show to buy art for their schools. And once again, they picked a Fobot: “Boy Toy”, pictured below along with some of the student buyers. These kids were so bright, so inquisitive, and so determined to pick just the right pieces of art for their schools, they restored my faith in kids. Which was still pretty shaky after the screaming hellions at the Shedd Aquarium.

So, bottom line, how was the Cherry Creek Art Fair? Let me put it this way–you may have noticed that there’s one less show listed in the schedule on the right side of this blog. Sorry, Arts, Beats, & Eats in Royal Oak Michigan, but sales were so overwhelming, we had to cancel. And there’s now a new sales record. DENVER LOVES FOBOTS. And we love you too, Denver.

Mother Nature Hates Me

I had been planning to write a blog entry about our art fair travels so far this year.  It was going to be called “Fobodyssey”. In fact, it may still be called that, although first I have to look up “Odyssey” and make sure it’s spelled like that.

But first, this just in from Columbus, OH, where we’re participating in the Columbus Arts Festival. A freak microburst hit us without warning last night around 7pm, destroying several tents and a lot of artwork. It had been sprinkling on and off most of the day, so when it started again, nobody thought anything of it. And then…WHAM.  Can I get bigger type here?  OK, WHAM will have to do. Had we received any notice this was coming, we could have put up the two side walls of the tent (we were on a corner) and moved all our bins and stuff inside. Everything (and everyone) was soaked, I was pushing against the display unit on the windy side with all my strength to keep it from blowing over (and those suckers are heavy), and at one point I grabbed my best piece–”Tin Schwinn”, who I had just sold via email to a collector in Pennsylvania–just as the wind blew over the column he was on. Ankle deep water ran through our booth, and all my calendars and gift bags were ruined, but miraculously, no damage to the Fobots, even though a few tried to dive into the river for a swim.

This is all my fault.  Earlier in the day, I had been remarking to another artist that the bad weather curse that had been following us seemed to have been lifted this year. I had been concerned last year that when artists and show organizers realized that tragedy struck whenever and wherever Phil and I set up a tent, they’d come after us with torches and pitchforks.

So, artists and show directors, please don’t come after us with torches and pitchforks. I seriously hurt my back last night dragging stuff into the tent during the storm.  I can’t run fast at all.

Pictures to follow.  Maybe.

Epilogue: Too busy today setting up again after the storm to take any pictures. Always makes me feel like a vulture, anyway. But follow  this link to some horrifying photos on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150195324660286.306508.54473165285 32 artists had damages significant enough that they had to leave the show–many lost their tent and everything in it.  If you’d like to help, here’s another link: https://columbusartsfestival.org/get-involved/artist-relief-fund.php

We actually had a really good day today.  I’d fell guilty about it if my back didn’t hurt so much.

If It Please the Jury

My apologies for the silence on my end. I’m gearing up for the 2011 art fair season, which means making lots of robots, sprucing up the tent and display units, and hitting the gym. Yes, the gym–you have no idea how physically grueling these shows can be, and I’m trying desperately to get back into shape.  We did 8 shows last year, and it kicked my butt.  I have no idea how the people who do 20, 30, even 40 shows survive it, let alone find the time to make anything to sell.  So as we leave tomorrow for our first 2011 show in Chattanooga, TN, I’d just like to share a few new pictures with you.

Did you know that the artists you see at most art festivals have to apply to be in the show? I’m sorry if I’m insulting your intelligence, but you’d be amazed at the number of people who think that the festival organizers let anyone who wants to exhibit do so, or–better yet–that we get paid by the promoters to be there, providing color and entertainment to the public. Explains the patrons who let their kids run amuck in my booth, or–better yet–leave them there while they eat lunch in the restaurant across the street. After all, we’re paid to be there, we might as well babysit, right? If only… Actually, getting in to the good shows is unbelievably competitive. And an artist’s fate lies in the hands of a few jurors who must base their decision on a handful of pictures of the artist’s work. So it makes sense to have the best possible photos. And that’s why I recently popped for some really good pics from photographer and all around nice guy Larry Berman. Here they are:

Sweet, huh?  How could a jury resist? Their names, if you’re curious, are Wall E.T., Steampunky Brewster, She Who Must Be Obeyed, Acrobot, Anatomical Curiosity, and Hell Mary. And don’t they just look like they should be in an art museum now? Where they would, no doubt, run amuck, terrifying all those uptight paintings and kicking some sculpture ass.

One last thing before we head west to Tennessee tomorrow–you may have noticed a new list in the side bar to your right.  That’s this year’s schedule of shows, in case you want to visit some FOBOTS in person, rather than just gaze upon their faboo glamour shots.  I’ll be updating the list as I hear from a few more shows. Three more, to be exact. Yes, I know that would total 9, one more than last year, but I AM working out now. I think I can do this.

News Flash–We’ll be back at the St. Louis Art Fair this year, so make that two more we’re waiting to hear from.  

Make that one more–”Arts, Beats & Eats” in Royal Oak, MI on Labor Day weekend.  And if you’re observant, you’ll notice that we snuck in one more–got called in off the waitlist for “Artisphere” in Greenville SC in April, so we may be doing 10 shows this year.  IF I have enough stuff…

Fobotologists at Play

Many of you have met us at one of the eight art fairs we exhibited at last year.  Us being Amy (Senior Fobotologist), and the lovely and talented Phil (Cheap Fobotics Officer, Butt-Tag Maker, member of the Union of Unpaid Artist’s Assistants, and Awesome Husband).  And the chances are annoyingly good that we were exhausted, sweaty, cold, wet, or any combination of those.  If you’ve been following this blog, you’ve heard about our misadventures, and know that the art fair biz is not for the faint of heart. So you’re forgiven if you don’t recognize the lady in the picture.

Yup, that’s me.

You may not realize this, but acting in community theatre productions is our favorite hobby.  It was even one of the factors that brought the two of us together, over 20 years ago.  We haven’t had much opportunity to indulge this pastime, since the little robots took over our lives a few years ago.  But when the chance arose to BOTH be in the same play at the same time, we jumped at it. Even though it meant canceling plans to exhibit in Florida this winter.  So, sorry Miami and Winter Park, but we’re wintering in Mesalia Ohio, fictional setting of George Kaufman and Moss Hart’s classic comedy, “The Man Who Came to Dinner”. Phil is playing Mr. Stanley, the long-suffering head of a household that has been plunged into HELL when famous critic, wit, and radio personality Sheridan Whiteside slips on the ice on their doorstep and is forced to recuperate at the Stanley house.  As a parade of famous people come to visit the invalid, Whiteside’s secretary, Maggie, falls in love with a young man of the town.   So Whiteside enlists Lorraine Sheldon, glamorous actress and diva bitch, to break up the budding romance.  That’s me as Lorraine, feeling a bit too old to be playing the vamp, and definitely more fatale than femme.  But the costumes are pretty, the cast is fabulous, and once I got a decent wig (the first one looked like someone had scalped Little Orphan Annie and made a yarmulke out of it) it’s been non-stop fun.  My favorite part of the play—toward the end, when all are desperate to get rid of Lorraine, they finally lock her in a mummy case.  Where I finally have four uninterrupted minutes of peace until I’m wheeled off.  During one of the previews, a friend in the audience was texting me all through the show.  So, I hid my phone in my pantyhose and texted her back from inside the sarcophagus.  Now I’ll be updating my Facebook status from in there every night. Until I run out of things to say.

So, folks, do not be surprised if the next time you see me, I look NOTHING like the sexpot in the picture. Unless, of course, the next time you see me is at the theatre…

Build-A-Bot Workshop

Hello, Foboteers!  And welcome to Build-A-Bot Workshop!  Not to be confused with Build-A-Bear Workshop.  No, this is way cooler.

Before Christmas, a neighbor inquired about a custom Fobot for her husband, Gordon.  The problem: Gordon has so many diverse interests, it was overwhelming to pick a starting point.  We discussed various options, before coming up with…THE IDEA.  Namely, to let Gordon run amuck in the workshop, picking his own parts (under my guidance) and ultimately design his own Fobot.  Just like Build-A-Bear, right down to the heart inside, but without the optional tutu.  I take that back–he could have had a tutu if he’d wanted one.  A metal one.  But Gordon’s not that kind of guy.  One of the first things he gravitated towards was a cool old tin with a very deco looking “Flash Hand Soap” tin.  And of course, with a name like Gordon, it did not require much imagination to come up with a name for the bot.  Continuing with the “Flash” theme–that’s a working flashlight for the head.  Anti-kickback pawls for the wings echo the zig-zag lightning bolts on the tin. and there’s even a tiny brass greyhound, just like Gordon’s dog.  Here’s how it looked after we’d picked all the parts:

And here’s how Flash Gordon looked after I’d put it all together:

Pretty fun, right?  So, if you’re in the Raleigh area, and you want to play Dr. Frankenstein, drop me a line and let me know.  Oh, and wear closed toed shoes.  And maybe think about getting that tetanus shot booster.  Because…well, remember those early blog pictures of the workshop, where everything looked so clean and neat?  Yeah, it doesn’t look so much like that anymore.  And that’s because it’s overflowing with junk.  Delicious, rusty, inspiring junk.  Consider this your invitation to come play in it today.

Ninja Stone

First of all, many many thanks for all of you who have expressed their concern for Phil and his Big Summer (and Fall) of Mystery Ailments.  I’ve been delaying posting anything because I’ve been waiting for some kind of closure.  Nope, no closure yet, but there is a weird little kink at the end…

Let’s recap a little.  Phil Crone (Cheap Fobotics Officer, Butt-Tag Maker, husband) had a horrible MRSA infection this summer, and just when it was clearing up, was laid low with a kidney stone.  Scans to pinpoint the stone turned up another surprise–a tumor in the other kidney.  After waiting a day for the stone to pass, a search party was sent in (ow) after it, and discovered…nothing.  It just vanished.  But that’s good, right?

So jump ahead 4 weeks, and another expedition goes in after the tumor kidney, with the goal of removing just the cancerous part laparoscopically.  Unfortunately, after two sections were removed and biopsied (Phil being on the table this whole time) results were not what the docs wanted, and the whole kidney went bye-bye.  But really, the only complication was that coming out of an extended stay in anesthesiaville, Phil bit his tongue so hard he was speaking Welsh for a week.

So on Monday last week, we came home from the hospital, certain that we were done for the near future and under warranty for at least a year. HAH! Wednesday morning, 5am, a day and a half later, Phil wakes up with–get this–a freaking kidney stone.  And CT scans show it’s the same stone, stuck in the same place.  Back we go to the ER, in they go with another expeditionary force, and….nothing.  Can’t find it AGAIN.  A very cranky Phil was discharged the next day (Thanksgiving, if you’re keeping score) and has been recuperating nicely since then, aided by the fact that football has been broadcast during every single moment of his recovery.  Here’s a picture of Phil recovering:

Jump ahead to a week later, when the finest medical imaging technology available takes high-res, 3-d pictures of Phil’s abdomen and, amazingly, burns them on to a CD for him to bring to his doctor.  (In retrospect, we should have burned a copy for ourselves and used one as a Facebook profile picture–suck it, cute baby ultrasounds!)  So FINALLY, we get to the doctor’s office Monday to have them interpreted, and they find…wait for it….NOTHING!  Either the stone has magically disappeared, or it’s a sentient, ninja-like being, taunting us with it’s ability to vanish at will. OK, I’m grateful for it’s initial appearance, leading us to the discovery of the tumor, but listen up, stone, the encore performance was just showboating.  This kind of behavior is not winning you any friends.  If you’re still in there, in some kind of witness protection program for tumor snitches, you better stay out of Phil’s ureter.  We’re on to you.

Phil went back to work today, and though he’s not 100% yet, he’s at a firm 82% and climbing.  So, of course—my turn to break down.  Seriously.  Had to go to a hand specialist today, who diagnosed a condition called “trigger finger” in my right thumb, and loaded it up with enough lidocaine and steroids to get it a tryout with the Carolina Panthers.  Trigger finger—what an ironic thing for a pacifistic, weenie liberal do-gooder to get.  I’ll be out of the workshop for at least a few days–can’t bend the thumb without outside assistance from the other hand.  But I’m not complaining–at least I’ve had time to write to you, my workshop is getting a little cleaner, and unlike Phil’s stone, I know where my thumb is at all times.

2010 Fobot Sale

My apologies for not posting this sooner, but–ahem–THE 2010 FOBOT SALE HAS BEGUN!  Today at noon, actually, but you already knew that, didn’t you?  Yes, sales have been brisk today, but there are plenty of good ones still left.  Including this one.

People are always asking me at shows, “Do you ever have bots that you can’t stand to sell?”  I always say no, I have their pictures to keep me company.  And that my favorite quote is “Art isn’t art until it’s sold.  Until then, it’s an obsession and a storage problem.”  Until this guy came along.  ”Acrobot” is his name, he stands 18 ” tall, and he’s made of an oil can, pool ball, sash lock, erector set girders, wrenches, pulleys, buttonhole attachments, candy mold, and I have no idea what that hat thing is.  You do NOT want to know how expensive he is.  Let’s just say that first you have to make a unicycle, and then you make a Fobot exactly the right size to ride it, and that takes a while.  If you want to see him and the other bots participating in the annual sale, go to www.ifobot.com and look in the “Gallery of Available Fobots”.  Don’t buy this one, though.  I love him. Obsession, storage problem…OK, maybe.