The art fair where nobody bought a thing but I got invited to show overseas
Went to this fine art fair over in Nashville back in the spring. Set up my booth, had my best quilts hung proper, the whole thing. Three days and I sold exactly one small wall hanging to a lady from Memphis who said it reminded her of her grandmother's kitchen. That was it.
I was packing up feeling a little foolish for the booth fee when this woman from a gallery in London comes walking by. She'd been watching me from across the room for two days she said. Didn't want to bother me while I was working. She asked about my piecing technique and I showed her the back of a quilt where you can see all the stitching and she just stood there quiet for a long time.
Now I'm getting ready to ship six pieces to England next month. First time my work crosses the ocean.
The Lord moves in ways that don't make sense to us in the moment. That dry fair taught me something about who's really watching. It ain't the people handing you cash right then. Sometimes it's the one standing back taking notes while you're just doing your work.
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This is such a familiar story in different materials. I've done shows where you sell nothing and feel like you've wasted everyone's time including your own. Then months later someone who "just looked" tracks you down for a commission.
The woman who watched for two days without interrupting, that part I really get. People who actually understand the work don't want to pull you out of it. She was respecting your hands being busy. That's someone who knows making.
Where's the London gallery showing you?
Now you hit it square on the head, honey. That woman knew. She said later she could tell I was in the middle of something and she'd rather watch a maker work than interrupt and lose the thread of it. I told her she was welcome at my table any time.
The show's in London next June, near this place called Borough Market. Gallery's called Hand & Soul, small spot, woman-owned. I still gotta pinch myself when I say it. Never thought I'd see my quilts across the ocean, baby. The Lord moves in the quiet times, I tell you that.