Fair Game
In the glory days of Spitalfields market, before the chains moved in and the grit moved out, artists could exhibit their work in a small section of the market for the meagre sum of £20 per day.
I was one of them.
Each Sunday, I’d load up my bike and trailer with some of the more modestly-sized versions of the work I was creating at the time, and I’d weave my way from my studio in Hackney to Commercial Street, ready to hang that day’s temporary exhibition.
It’s probably been twenty years or more, but I remember selling a few pieces and adding some email addresses to my contact list, and I remember the names and the artwork of a few of my fellow artists, one or two of whom have had some success in the intervening decades.
What I’d forgotten after all those years, were the nerves and the excitement of standing in front of your wall of work and telling the general public: ‘Look at Me!’
This feeling came flooding back last weekend, when I participated in The Other Art Fair, a much more professional (and expensive!) version of that Spitalfields experience, located just around the corner at The Truman Brewery on Brick Lane.
Six weeks’ notice sounds like a lot, but after receiving my offer of a place at the Fair, I decided to give myself everything to do. Finish work and start new work, redo my website, frame my entire back catalogue, produce an array of marketing materials, build a plinth… Consequently, I arrived at the fair with paint still wet, handouts hot off the press and a sense that I’d really need to spend the next four days asleep in a corner.
Apparently this wasn’t going to be an option. The fair’s marketing team, combined with the global reach of the Saatchi Art machine, ensured that the fair was all action from the moment it opened on Thursday evening, with a constant flow of art enthusiasts filing past my stand and – more often than not – stopping in for a closer look.
If I’m being honest, I didn’t expect to enjoy it. When it comes to painting, my happy place is my studio.
Alone. Headphones on.
This wasn’t that. I steeled myself and tried to work out my pitch.
It took three days and about 300 conversations, but I think I finally got it. By 6pm on Sunday, as my final two buyers debated at length about which two paintings they were finally going to buy, far from wanting to crawl back into the muffled embrace of my studio and my headphones, I wished that there were four more days to talk about what I do and why I do it.
I loved it and I can’t wait to have another go next year, maybe in London, maybe in Brooklyn, maybe in LA…
And next time, I’ll be ready.
If you came to my stand at TOAF and signed my guest book, thank you. If you found this post some other way, please consider joining my mailing list for irregular updates and the occasional blog post.
