buffalo indie market

We did the "busman's holiday" thing today and visited this new venture in the city. It is on the second floor of a huge restaurant in the type of room you would book for a party. Nice room. Exposed brick, hardwood floors, mood lighting. Oops. Yes, that was a problem. Lighting or lack thereof. I was trying to look at some pottery that seemed really interesting but the artist was set up away from the windows and when she asked the proprietor for light, they brought her tea lights. Leetle-tiny candles. Almost funny. Unless you were hoping to sell your pottery.

The best thing? Lots of new, young faces and lots of interesting work that is different from what you usually see out there. There is concern in the art show community about the graying of the artists. The whole phenomenon of art and craft shows really exploded with the baby boomers and they/we are slowing down, looking to travel for fun instead of tracking the mileage for the IRS. So, it was good to see some youth.

Then there was the music. Loud rap/hiphop with an actual performer, mic in hand, trying to get the shoppers to sing along...or is that rap along? hopalong? Am I really so old? He was very talented, a lot of fun, but so very loud. There would be little or no conversation between artist and shopper and that is very bad for sales. I find that people shop at festivals in part for the connection, they want to talk to the person that threw that pot. It will become part of that piece's history whenever she uses it. The music has to go.

Another problem is that the show is on the 2nd floor and will next be on the 3rd. A recent re-injury of a bad knee that hampers my ability to go down a flight of stairs (but oddly does not hurt climbing up) made me very aware of the fact that this show was going to exclude a lot of shoppers. I don't think they plan to use the restaurant permanently, though, so it's probably a non-issue.

All-in-all, a fun hour. Saw some old friends and some new art. Witnessed what can happen when someone gets an idea and follows it through.

And I learned that I, a woman who used to think that a concert was not good unless you were deaf for a hour afterwards, now has to fight the urge to shout "turn that damn music down!"

God help me, I've become my mother after all.