I got up a little late, left my house a little later, and wound up having to fly to meet my friend on time. Once again, I was struck by the fact that frequently it's not how many horses one has under the hood but what one is willing to do with them. I was only about ten minutes late in the end.
My best friend and I ate lunch at a Mexican restaurant we both like and headed over to the Trade Mart. I knew there were three artists I particularly wanted to see if they were exhibiting. They are the ones I go to every year, moon over, and most years, buy from. I also love to look at all the others, though. There is such unbelievable diversity in the crafts presented. New artists come in every year, too, so one never knows just what you will see. It's always a nice mix of new and old. It makes me feel humbled and happy just to know that there are people in the world who can do these things, who can take their hands, apply them to raw materials, and produce wonder. When I come away from a really great crafts exhibition, I always feel just a little more hopeful about the world.
My friend and I are profoundly creatures of habit. We always go the same route through the booths. Today we took our turn to the right, and we started looking. It wasn't long before we came to the first of the three I had hoped to see there, Sam Clark. Sam Clark makes, among other things, these fantastic dragons. They do different things. The most wonderful ones read books. I LOVE them. They always look so clever, amused, and knowing, everything you'd expect from a dragon. I have a small red one I bought two years ago, and a "micro" one I got last year that I keep at school. This year, because of the state of my finances, I knew I probably was going to be in that hellish situation of having to look but not touch with his stuff. It's not that his prices are extreme; quite the contrary for the level of detail on each piece. It's that I'm so obscenely poor right now.
Imagine my delight when he had a new line of pieces that he has added that are functional, bowls and containers, teapots and vessels of all kinds. They have his gorgeous line drawings on engraved into the surface of the clay. And...I could afford one that had a dragon on it. I got my dragon after all! I was grinning from ear-to-ear. It was like fate took pity on me today.
A few aisles over, we found my best friend's friend, the maker of mouth-blown glass beads and pendants. His stuff is fantastic. I already had two of his pieces, but I wanted something blue (school colors and all that). As I looked at the selection, I saw some that looked remarkably like eyes. That looked awfully familiar, and sure enough, when I asked, my suspicion was confirmed. They were a reinterpretation of the charm worn to protect against the evil eye. I love jewelry with meaning; symbolism is sort of my life as an English teacher. I bought one that looks for all the world like a gorgeous blue iris with a black pupil in the center because, well, you know the thing I have with blue eyes... (ha)
The third artist I love, Peter Rose, was further over. I have three of his crows (I call them ravens), already. They make me happy every time I look at them. His pottery is all wood-fired in the traditional Japanese fashion. I love to talk to him every year when I go to see his stuff. It's a little piece of contact with the world of Japanese pottery that I miss so much. I was all ready to get one of his owls this year since I finished out my trio of ravens last year. I even had picked out the owl I wanted to get. Then I turned my head and saw that he has started making "mini ravens." That was the end of that. I had to have it. I will take that one to school. It's just fantastic. Again, since it was a small piece, I was also able to afford it without going broke. It was just a wonderful gift from the craft gods.
As I went through the other booths, I stumbled across another thing I loved: fountain pens. They were all from exotic woods. My best friend laughed at me because I just started making little squeaking sounds as I stroked my fingertips over first one and then another of the lovely polished surfaces. They were exquisite. I could have bought at least five that I saw, but one caught my eye more than any of the others: a "miniature" pen made of a wood called purple heart. I haven't seen purple heart in large qualities since I was in Costa Rica, but I love it. Without being dyed or tinkered with at all, it has a gorgeous dark reddish color. It is going to be my "pocket pen." I've wanted a small one like this for a long time, and it is everything one could ask for.
Chimneyville is just a joy. The quality of everything you see, the friendliness of all the craftspeople, there's really just nowhere else I know like it. I was struck again this year by that personal element. Because I buy from those same artists every year, they have come to recognize me. I was a little amazed by that (you know, old forgettable me), but it was really nice. That's what keeps me buying handmade whenever I can, too. Whether it is from my favorite folks in Jackson every year or the makers I can connect with on Etsy, I just believe that there is something special about this sort of connection that enriches the item itself.
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