Are You Sitting Down?

No, seriously–are you sitting down?  Find a chair.  I’ll wait.

OK, you are not going to freaking believe this.  I know I didn’t believe it when I first got the email from the assistant set decorator of “Ugly Betty”, asking if they could use some of the Fobots for set decoration.  Yes, that’s right, the Fobots are gonna be on the TV!   Here’s what happened…

As many of you may know, several of my robots were featured in the November “Anthropologie” catalog.  Apparently, they caught the eye of the set decoration team for “Ugly Betty”, who emailed to ask if they could rent some for one episode, to line the shelves of “The Tube” (see picture).  But shortly after the initial excitement, the doubts took over.  No way, I thought–someone is messing with me.  My friends, knowing how much I like this show, are pulling my leg, or worse–someone is trying to get me to send them a bunch of Fobots for free by claiming to be connected to Ugly Betty.  But if this is a scam, it’s INCREDIBLY well-organized, with phone numbers, tax forms, releases and everything. 

So, some time in December, I’ll be driving up to the studios in New York where Ugly Betty is filmed, and delivering the bots in person.  They’re going to be stars–or at least background extras.  Soon they’ll be demanding their own trailer, final script approval, and bowls of mixed nuts and bolts with all the 1/4-20 nuts picked out…

Calendar Giveaway

OK, if you haven’t seen the magazine “Where Women Create” because you don’t live close enough to a Barnes & Noble or a Borders (and where would that be ?  #%&**@ Point Barrow Alaska?), you have options.  For example, there’s the easily accessible “Where Women Create” blog at  www.wherewomencreate.typepad.com.  I bring this up because they’re giving away a free, signed Fobot calendar to a random reader who posts a comment on the blog before Wednesday, November 18 at midnight MST.  You can do this.  I know you have a computer.

2010 Calendars Are Here!

Ever wanted to have twelve Fobots, but didn’t have the shelf space?  Or the trust fund?  Now’s your chance!  New for 2010–the Desktop Fobot Calendar!  A dozen of my favorite bots, their vital statistics, a  funny glimpse into their private lives, and……oh yeah.   Months and dates and stuff.   All attractively packaged in a 5 x 5.5″ jewel case.  Discover what Queen Elizabot keeps in her purse!  Read about the dark secret Uncle Sambot keeps buried deep inside him!  And do we really need to tell you what great stocking stuffers these would make?  All this for $13.95 plus $2.50 shipping.  Just go to the website– www.ifobot.com  (it’s right there on the home page) and press the little shopping cart button it took me so long to figure out how to create.  You’ll be happy you did.

News Flash(es)

Wooohoo!  For those of you who have grown frustrated scanning the ironically labeled “Available Fobots” gallery on www.ifobot.com and seeing nothing but evil (well, evil for you but GREAT for me) red “SOLD” signs next to all the pictures, your wait is over!  I have FINALLY uploaded 48–count’em–48 new pages to the site!  That’s 44 bots and 11 necklaces.  And most of them are still actually available!  I say mostly, because four have sold already.  Maybe more by the time you read this, but hey!  The point is, I finally did it.  And now I can return to the Fobotorium with a clean conscience.

And speaking of the Fobotorium–you may recall that several months ago, the magazine “Where Women Create” stopped by to take a few pictures.   If you’ve ever been curious to see the place where Fobots are born, as you’ve never seen it before (i.e., clean) now’s your chance.  The Winter edition features 8 smokin’ pages of bots, bots, and more bots.  And my studio.  And my dog.  Oh, and some other artists.  And their awesome workspaces.  If you’d like to get a copy, I believe Barnes & Noble and Borders have them.  Unless you’re a close friend or relative  of mine, in which case don’t look, you’re getting one for Christmas.

Hard Time on Beth Row

Don’t worry, I’m not going to make you look at another picture of the booth.  Because, although Phil took several photos at the Bethesda Row Arts Festival last weekend, I don’t want to see them.  You don’t want to see them either.  The artist in those pictures is NOT happy.

Yup, the Bethesda Row Arts Festival was so awful, we started calling it “Beth Row”.  We knew we were in trouble when it started raining on the drive up Friday night and NEVER STOPPED UNTIL SUNDAY.  Setting up Saturday morning was further complicated by the fact that the organizers had put down chalk marks to map out the booth spaces the night before (yes, in the rain) and then surprise!  The chalk marks washed away!  Who’d have thunk it?   No one knew where their booth was, a problem that was only mitigated by the many empty spaces left by artists who were too smart to show up.  Mercifully, our set-up went more smoothly than at St. Louis, due largely to our vast amount of experience (hah!), and the fact that we rented a cargo van so that we wouldn’t have to try and reassemble the display units in the early morning cold and dark.

Did I mention the cold?  The temperature never rose above 44 degrees the whole weekend.  Throw in pants and shoes that never dried out on Saturday, and opening day sales that wouldn’t cover the emergency room visit I was sure I was going to need to treat my hypothermia, and you have a snapshot of one of the worst days of my life.

Fortunately, Sunday was a little better.  The rain (mostly) stopped, and although it was still cold,  overcast and windy, we were kept warm by the love of the brave souls who came to check out the art, and even burned a few calories ringing up sales and wrapping up Fobots.  Not as ecstatic a buying frenzy as St. Louis, but at least not a total loss.

And there were some bright spots.  The people were nice, if a little reluctant to take their frozen fingers out of their gloves to extract a credit card from their wallet.  The children were well-behaved and delightful.  I believe every single person we spoke with personally apologized for the weather, thanked us for coming out in it, and promised that it was NEVER like this in mid-October.   Then there was the father and two young boys who so enjoyed seeing the bots that they came back later and performed a skit about frogs for us.  And god bless the woman who, seeing how badly I was shivering, gave me her disposable hand warmers.  I’d still rather have been home in front of the fire and a bottle of tequila, but on the whole, it could have been worse.  But not by much.

So instead of a picture of me shivering so hard that my image is a blur, I leave you with a Fobot I made specially for the show; “Bothesda”.  Notice the “Maryland Club” tin.  And since his bag reminded me of a doctor’s bag, let’s make that “Boththesda, MD”. 

Of course, since he didn’t sell, I think I’ll change his name.  Any suggestions?

Now THAT’S a Booth Shot

Are you tired of all the pictures of our Fobot booth?  No?  Really?  Oh, you’re just being nice.  But what I am about to show you is officially the BEST BOOTH SHOT EVER.  Here’s what happened…

After St. Louis, we spent a lot of time evaluating what we did wrong (wobbly pedestals on uneven ground + small children = disaster).  Ok, maybe not a LOT of time.  Our next show in Bethesda, Maryland, is only a week away now.  But we came up with a display unit design that proved to be cool looking, easy to assemble and break down, and solid as a rock.  And then, of course, we needed to set the whole thing up again, tent and all, so I could get a picture for upcoming show applications.  That’s a helluva lot of work for one photo, but art fair juries are extremely competitive, and I’ve been reading a lot lately regarding the importance of having a good booth shot.  Something accurate, something that shows your work to  advantage, but something artistic and eye-catching as well.  I did a lot of research, and one thing that I noticed was that nobody had any shots taken at night.  Hmmm, how much extra work would it be to set up the lights as well?

So last Monday, we went to work.  Funny how much easier and less stressful it is to set up when the clock’s not ticking.  Got it all up early enough to take plenty of daylight shots in case the night-time plan wasn’t feasible.  And then we waited for dark.  And waited.  Neighbors wandered by, wondering if gypsies had encamped on our friend’s parking pad.  The wind started picking up.  Clouds started rolling in.  Just a little longer, it’s still not dark enough yet.  Rumbles of thunder and lightning getting closer.  Closer.  Finally, Phil said “We’ve got to get out of here before Armegeddon starts”.  Just a few more pictures, please? 

And that’s how we got this:

Cat in a Hot Tin Booth

New rule; from now on, the phrase “nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof” will be replaced by the phrase “nervous as an artist in a hot craft booth”.  Full of kids who grab and push and don’t listen to you or their parents.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Saint Louis Art Fair, Day 2: Invasion of the Robot Snatchers.  As you may notice in the above picture, we have a fatal flaw in the booth display that worked so well for us in Philadelphia.  In Philly, a) the floor was completely level, and b) there were no children allowed in the show.  The street is actually on a slope and fairly uneven, though it doesn’t really show in the photo.  And on Saturday and Sunday, everyone at the fair brought their kids.  We met many lovely, well behaved children this weekend, who expressed their delight in the Fobots and asked charming questions.  I could kiss each and every one of them. 

And then there were the unsupervised hellions who tried to grab everything within reach, pull themselves up onto the pedestals, and twist the robots’ arms in unnatural directions.  I can’t really blame them.  The art at this fair was uniformly SPECTACULAR, but most had little appeal to kids.  Sadly, the robots did appeal to them.  And I hope there is a special hell for parents who don’t want to stifle their babies pwecious cweativity by actually supervising them, or telling them not to touch.  So I spent three days in a constant, jumpy, adrenalized state, ready to leap forward at any second to catch a falling robot.

And amazingly, though several hit the pavement, only one of the sturdy little creatures (and I’m referring to the Fobots here, not the kids) broke.  And that was only because  Beelzebot had porcelain faucet cover feet.  And the culprit here was not a kid, but a woman with a large handbag who not only knocked him over, but spilled her red wine all over Phil’s lab coat in the process, went to get him some paper towels, gave them to him, and then split without even offering to pay for the dry cleaning, let alone the repairs or–god forbid–the robot. 

OK, enough bitching.  In spite of my constant state of anxiety, the backbreaking labor, the dehydration, and the long drive, we had a great show,  made a lot of money, and are already planning our new display and future shows.  I’ll wrap this all up in a later post.  But for now, the adrenalin is finally wearing off, and I hope to sleep for a few hours in a row without dreaming that I’m lunging for a wobbly pedestal or smacking some undisciplined child on the ass.  And by ass, I mean it’s parents.

Only Mostly Dead

Yesterday was one of the longest, hottest, stressiest days of my life.  But, like the 14 hour car trip that got us to the St. Louis Art Fair, in which I kept thinking to myself, “This is too boring, too hard, I don’t want to play anymore”, once it was all over, it didn’t seem so bad.  Kinda like childbirth.   Or so I hear.

We began the day by FINALLY getting our new credit card terminal to work.  It hadn’t been programmed correctly when it was sent to us, and it’s failure to function was FREAKING ME OUT.   But after three days in tech support limbo, they got it working just in time.

The weather was perfect, if a little warm.  Perfect if you’re doing nothing more strenuous that lifting a glass of iced tea to your lips.  But setting up the tent was fraught with complications we hadn’t forseen, and took much longer than expected.  I won’t bore you with details, but we started at 11:30, and when opening time rolled around at five, we had NOT had the chance to slip back to the hotel for a much needed shower, and were still madly scrambling to unpack robots.  Dehydration was a problem, too.  You’d think that in the middle of setting up a huge art fair on a hot day that SOMEONE would be selling water.  They weren’t until five, by which time we were dead. 

Or only mostly dead.  Amazing how the appearance of customers in one’s booth can revive a gal.  Response was positive and enthusiastic.  Sales were good, if not overwhelming.  But this is a three day event, and if the shoppers are anything like me, they want to see everything before making their decision.  A few other notes:  went through an entire box of 250 business cards on the first night, and only have 250 more.  Hadn’t expected that, and will be rationing them out today.  Also–our proximity to the martini, beer and wine tent is a mixed blessing.  Lots of traffic, but later in the evening… Let’s just say a few bots hit the ground, but nothing broke.

Sorry, no picture, but we honestly didn’t have a spare second before the show started, and the booth was too crammed with people to even see inside once it did.  We’ll try again today.

Random Access Memory

 

Hello, Fobot fans!  Just wanted to let you know that we’ve arrived in St. Louis after 14 hours on the road.  I’d go into more detail, but it’s late, I’m exhausted, and dinner involved two gin and tonics.  Let’s just say that the Fo-Bo-Mo-Bile performed heroically, and even had a little room to spare.  Which we filled with extra bubble wrap.

And, since I hate to post something without at least one picture… Meet Random Access Memory, one of my entries in this year’s Niche Awards.  He’s composed of a Brownie camera, glass front licorice tin, wrenches, lamp parts, hydraulic fittings, and ephemera.  I know I promised to give you a “Fobot of the Week”—let’s just call him “Fobot of the Month…

Signing off now.  Must sleep.

Junk-A-Palooza

As we madly scramble to stuff as many robots into a Honda Element as we can–and still leave room for a tent and maybe a suitcase–let me just bring you up to date on our latest junking expedition.  We returned Sunday from Hillsville, VA, home of the biggest, baddest, junkiest treasure hunt we’ve ever had.  Held every Labor Day weekend, the town of Hillsville is literally taken over by a flea market that attracts tens of thousands of people.  We were there for two days, and still didn’t see it all.  What started out years ago as a gun show to raise funds for the VFW, it has now grown to encompass antiques, state fair kind of food (what can we fry that has never been fried before?) yard sale crap, and everything in between.  Oh, and guns.  I have never SEEN so many people walking around with a rifle on each shoulder.  Thank God the only thing not for sale is alcohol…But then, if Al Queda had attacked, I’m sure we were in the safest place on earth.

A few impressions:  The cute little blond woman speaking into her cell phone; “Honey?  They have the hollowpoints here, $30 for a box.  Ya want me to pick you up a few?”

Overheard from an older woman; “Well, you see, I have my quilts, and he has his guns”.

Speaking of quilts–a tent selling beautiful old quilts, that must have taken some long dead woman months to complete, selling for around $75.  Next to a tent with a man with a mic pitching Sham Wows.  Or was it Ginsu knives…

The junking was excellent.  Really, my only objection was how spread out it was.  If only all the antiques had been in one area, all the yard sale crap in another, and all the irregular tube socks in a third, it would have been much easier to navigate.  But the pickings were fine, the prices good, and we left with four tote bags full of future robots.

I’m including a few photos taken by the lovely and talented Phil, but unless we had been able to take them from a helicopter (rides on which were available, by the way) you can’t possibly appreciate the scope of this event.  Every field, every backyard, every parking lot in Hillsville was filled with glorious, delicious junk.  I can’t wait to go back.