Another Star is Born

Remember a few years ago when a bunch of Fobots were part of the set dressing for the TV show, “Ugly Betty”?  Well, it’s happened again!

While we were exhibiting at the Northern Virginia Fine Arts Festival in Reston two weeks ago, a woman who works for ESPN stopped by the booth. Being somewhat ill-informed when it comes to anything athletic, I assumed when she said “Pardon the Interruption” that she was apologizing for cutting short a conversation I was having with an old friend, Roger Bridges. But no, she wanted to know if she could borrow a Fobot for the set of this ESPN news/talk/opinion show featuring Tony Kornheiser and Michael Wilbon. After doing a little research to determine that this wasn’t a scam–yeah, I’m suspicious like that–I agreed.

So here he is, the latest bot to achieve TV stardom. His name is “Droid Hobbs” (baseball movie reference, let me know if you get it) and he is composed of a camera, baseball, phone ringer bell, sash lock, wrenches, hose fittings, and a watch movement. And if you peek through the top lens of the camera, you can see his heart inside. He just arrived there this afternoon, and Bonnie (that’s the nice lady that “discovered” him) says he’ll be on the “Pardon the Interruption” set tonight, and he’ll be there until I send a new one–probably at the end of baseball season. It’s on here at 5:30pm, if you want to see him in action.  Or inaction, as the case may be. He doesn’t move much.

Goodbye, Columbus

I recently made the difficult decision to withdraw from the Columbus Arts festival. The picture below, from last year, should say it all.  But if you want further reasons, here’s what I wrote to the new director:

It is with great disappointment that I must withdraw from the 2012 Columbus Arts Festival.

When I applied this year, it was with the assurance of last year’s director that, after the 2011 disaster, none of the artists would be placed on the bridges over the river when the show relocated to the riverfront park. Unfortunately, that promise has not been honored. I had hoped that, given time, you would rethink your decision, but that does not seem to be the case.  I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching over this.  Even if I was one of the lucky ones to obtain a space on solid ground, I  would be devastated if another storm hit and my compatriots on the bridges took a direct hit while I escaped damage.

I know you must think I’m being a total wimp about this.  And I realize that the odds of another microburst hitting the festival are small.  But you weren’t there last year.  You didn’t hear the thunder, the screams, the crashing of glass and pottery, the tears afterwards.  You didn’t feel yourself lifted off the ground while your tent (with 200+ pounds of weight) threatened to become a 10′ by 10′ kite.  You didn’t look down at the ankle deep water and realize that no one had thought to shut off the power to the tents, risking electrocution to everyone.  And the only reason that the damage wasn’t worse is that the majority of the booths received some shelter from the wind from the neighboring buildings.  On those bridges, there is nothing to block the wind for miles.

I realize that you have a romantic notion of artists leaning their paintings against the railings of the bridges over the Seine.  Those artists can grab their paintings and run for cover if a storm hits.  They’re not there overnight, either, and they’re not standing in giant kites.  And it’s undeniable that the incidents of severe weather have been increasing over the last several years.  I hope and pray that nothing like that happens at the Columbus Arts Festival this year–or any year in the future.  But you’re playing Russian roulette with people’s livelihoods–and lives–and I don’t care to risk it for the chance of making a few dollars.

Of course, if you change your mind, I’d be happy to re-apply next year.  That is, if I haven’t just burned all my bridges.  Ooh, don’t say bridges…

So sorry, Columbus. I’m sure the weather will be beautiful, and the park will be lovely. I’m sure you all think I’m a big weenie.  According to the new director, only three artists requested spots off the bridge, so I’m sure he thinks I’m a weenie AND an idiot.  That’s OK. This is one case in which I REALLY don’t want to have the last laugh. Best of luck, Columbus.

The Rules

WARNING: This post is for the amusement of my fellow art fair exhibitors.  If you are a patron, don’t read this.  And if you DO read this, remember—I’m not talking about you. You’re perfect.

(1) The weather will always be perfect the day after the show.

(2) No one who enters your booth carrying a sponsor’s giveaway bag full of free stuff will ever buy anything from you.

(3) The more lavishly people praise your work, the less likely they are to buy from you.  The praise is your payment.* And that’s OK.

(4) People who enter your booth while you are frantically trying to set up or pack up will also never buy anything from you. They are there to get in the way, and subtle hints are wasted on them.

(5) If you bring two similar items to a show—say, two monkey robots or two robots with refrigerators for bodies–neither one will sell.

(6) After spending a great deal of time in your booth, polite people will do one of three things.  They will tell you that they will be back soon. They will ask for a business card (AKA, the “get out of jail free card”), implying that they will most likely make a purchase in the future. Or they will ask for something that you do not have, like a vampire zombie ninja robot, implying that if only you had had that item they would have bought it.

(7) People who stand in front of–or in–your booth while holding a stroller out at arm’s length, effectively blocking anyone else from entering and exiting, while talking on their cell phone in a loud voice… not only will they not buy anything, but they will give you dirty looks if you suggest they move.

(8) Patrons come to an art festival to look, not to read. So if you put up a sign stating, for example, that all items on this shelf are $160 and that they all open up to reveal a heart inside, that sign might as well be invisible, and you will be asked repeatedly how much they are and do they ALL have a heart inside?

I was hoping to make it an even 10. Any suggestions?  I’ll update this list if you or I can think of any more. But for now, I’m going to make a vampire zombie ninja robot.

*I read about an artist who tried a psychological experiment with his patrons. Rather than saying “thank you” to people who praised his work, thus accepting their “payment”, he continued to talk about his work instead.  The compliments got bigger and more grandiose, but still he would not say “thanks”. Finally, when it became evident that he was either in danger of being nominated for sainthood, or that they would never leave, he gave in.  They fled.

Update: I knew you guys would come through for me!  We now have an even 10 Commandments.  Thanks to Barbara Johansen Newman and Phil Crone for rules #9 and 10, respectively:

(9) No matter how many thousands of times a day people ask you the same question (Where do you find all your parts? How long does it take you to make these? Where do you get your ideas?), you must remember that it is the first time they’ve asked that question, and answer with sincerity and enthusiasm.

(10) The command “Don’t touch!” issued by a parent to a child entering your booth seemingly absolves the parent from any responsibility to actually prevent the child from touching all your stuff.

Coconut Grove and Winter Park

Where does the time go? Two shows under our belts this year already, and at least seven more to come. Yup, I’ve been a robot-makin’ fool lately. But on a rainy Saturday morning, I just though I’d let you know how it’s going so far.

Our first two festivals of the year were in Florida—Coconut Grove in Miami, and Winter Park near Orlando. Like I was telling everyone before we left, even if we don’t sell a thing, at least we’ll be in Florida. But we did sell, and pretty darn well, too. I don’t know if the economy has finally turned around, or if the difference was the awesome new display units I’ve been working on all winter, but we had two of our best shows ever. Miami outpaced WP by a fair margin, and yet, if I had to do one of them again, I’d pick Winter Park.

The weather was sublime at both shows, much to my relief. But the big difference was the atmosphere.  In Miami, we were jammed in together on the streets as tightly as possible, loading in and out was a disorganized mess, the music (?) from the Verizon stage was deafening, and the whole affair had a carnival atmosphere. Whereas in Winter Park, we were under the trees in a beautiful park, there was plenty of room between booths and for storage, and the artists were treated more as honored guests than as sideshow attractions. But the biggest difference was this: in WP, ALL the artists seemed to be doing well.  Not just us, not just a few lucky ones, but everyone around us was having a good and profitable show. I can’t tell you what a difference that makes. The mood was euphoric. And I speak as someone who just can’t have a good time unless EVERYONE is having a good time. It was bliss. We’d be happy to participate in either show again, but Winter Park holds a special place in my heart–cross your fingers that we get invited back next year.

Here’s a photo of the new booth, taken in Winter Park. Try not to be blinded by the whiteness of my legs–they hadn’t seen the sun in quite a while. And the hair–well, no excuses. It’s always like that.

 

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/Fobots
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…