Big Sigh

Yesterday spring was officially launched with the Opening Day of Saturday Market, and lots of people came out in the sun to appreciate it. I had a wonderful day of reunion and appreciation, with many hugs and warm greetings and the balancing frustrations and pains. I was late setting up from talking too much, though I was happy to talk. I had a long conversation with reporter Diane Deitz, who wrote several articles this week about the Market and gave us a solid presence in the Register Guard. We all recognize how lucky we are to be that special and are grateful to not be ignored and sidelined as the same old thing, hardly worthy of notice. There are years when that has been the case, and certainly if it had been raining the story would have been a little less colorful and slightly more grim. Let me say loud and clear that I am not complaining! She did a great job of seeing us, at least that interesting aspect of us, that some of us have been doing this awhile.

The story of how old we all are was the topic, but I have to say it made me sad (maybe because I'm old and my foot hurts like hell today) . The Weekly showed the fabulous and colorful tie-dye of Levana, and I'm happy for her that she got that coverage. The photo certainly drew attention. The photos in the RG article featured Raven and the morning parade which is of course one of our most-loved traditions and always brings a tear for me with the giant helping of heart-warmth that happens. It's our magic juju and we do think it brings us luck and sunny weather. A little superstition never hurt.

And really, it is hard to find traditional tie-dye now and we won't be here forever. But there's more. Maggie has some fantastic, deep dyed tie-dye as well, and you have to get to know Michaele and Patti too. We're pretty proud to be the Tie-dye Capital of the Universe, but that isn't all we have to offer by a long shot. I'm glad it wasn't an article about the long lines at the food booths full of delighted people ready to taste their favorites again, though a feature about Ritta's new wagon and quesadilla special would have pleased me, and I see Dave had a new menu too. I got my piece of Dana's, you can be sure. I wouldn't complain about publicity for any of us, really. Even bad publicity is attention if you spin it right.

I had many long conversations yesterday. My neighbor had a piece of jewelry stolen and I spent a fair amount of time watching another jeweler's booth so she could go across the street to the plaza where the shoplifter was brazenly selling and trading the items he had lifted. She took his photo and waded right into that sick atmosphere to do it. At least that particular predator won't be welcome in our village again as we circulate the photo and make sure our security knows who he is. I wish we could do something effective about the predators and make them understand how badly they hurt us. We're people, not stores.

Several friends visited who had given up their reserve booths and retired in a way...for various reasons they just couldn't sell outdoors anymore. It's a sad reality and Diane wrote about that in her article. The big thing that she didn't have room to say, and that needs to be said, is that after forty years these craftspeople are not just old. They are masters of their craft. You don't practice creativity for forty years and not get really good at it. All of the people in the article and all of the others who were there but not interviewed, make very, extremely, fantastically finely honed crafts and art. Look closely at any shelf or table in the Market and you will see what I mean. I'm not complaining about Diane's efforts but just pointing out that one article is going to just brush the surface of the depth that is the real Saturday Market. And all the masters are not old. It was Brandi's birthday and she is not even forty, but makes the most inspired wire-wrapped jewelry you will ever see and she does it right there all day. She showed me a pair of earrings that weren't even finished that I wanted so much!

You might have to know a little about the particular craft and how it is made to see this mastery. You might have to consider that not only does the person make this stuff, but they most likely write books, play music, grow plants, build houses, and have a collection of other craft items they made before those. A lifetime of artistic action produces an array of creations that can be profoundly moving. What you see at the Market is some of this, a small part of this. Look at the silversmithing of Mark Jackson and Becca Clark (Firebird Silverworks), the knitting accomplishment of Kristine Levin, the watercolors of Chuck Roehrich, and take a look at my Jell-O Art. I was wearing some, though it didn't make it into the photographs. Read about the piece that is now in the permanent collection of Maude Kerns Art Center at gelatinaceae.blogspot.com. See that side of me. At least take a look at the three-color screenprinted tote bag with handcolored details, or the hats I have printed and then handcolored, crafts you can buy for only ten or fifteen dollars. Look at Raven's shakers with the handcarved and polished wooden handles and the intricate embellishments of his handformed shakers, things he figured out how to do without a model, invents each time out of sawdust and glue and paint. Judy Peterson stayed home to work on a commission, but you have to see her work. Look closely; it's hard to believe.

See the fine art of Willy Gibboney and his handmade drums, and think about how he cuts the wood, prepares the hides, and uses the scraps to make his new product, night lights with a wonderful glow. See what Teresa and Gary make look easy. Try to make a tie-dye piece of underwear (it's not easy!) or a handpainted dish like the ones Maria makes, and talk to her about how her art is now the best she has ever done. Find out what Owen Van Hooser is doing now that he gave up his spot and is exploring his prodigious art talent without trying to fit it into the borders of a tie-dyed dress. I hope your interest was piqued, not deflated.

That is what we are doing down there, that's why we bring our selves and our souls and our goods and have done so for 45 years. It's not that we're old, it's that we're treasures. We're amazing. Yes, we're tired and we hurt, it's a hard day. The headline mentioned our passion, but our passion didn't show there. Please do come down and see it. There is virtually no craftsperson there who is just doing the same old thing, rolling out the minutes and years and watching life go by with our complaints and aches. We are crafting, we are creating, and when we get there that creates a compelling, celebratory, incredible collection of energies that attracts people from all over the city and indeed, all over the world.

I know people know this. Every Saturday I have conversations with people who marvel at, wish for, treasure and collect what we make. We all have our fans and regulars and get new ones from the people they bring down with them. To me that is definitely the juicier story. Tim wrote a new book! Sue Hunnel has a new line of felt scarves that are hanging in the tree like magical weathergrams! Raven tried using dried orange peels! Maia (Pepper Tree Aviary) took her finely drawn bird prints home and will (I hope) sell online or do something else. Phil will try looking for petroglyphs instead of engraving them on glass, if he can get the arthritis under control. Bill Allord, who travels just to enrich his mosiac art knowledge sometimes, used to make leather belts. Priorities shift, but artists don't stop making art and old people don't stop being the lively creative people they were at twenty.

There isn't even enough room in this rant to talk about the younger artists, a subject for a whole new article that I hope is written. Tim Giraudier and I had a long talk about the Market image and how the same-old doesn't attract people who aren't interested in that. Look at the photographs he brings! Beautiful Oregon is his latest reinvention of his complex, outstanding photographic art. You'll be lucky to find him there, and yesterday we were also so fortunate to have Shanna Trumbly, Noelle Dass, and Fiona and Jill 
All of these are younger people doing incredible art, a whole additional story that is equally compelling. The age of handcrafting is not over, is not forty-five years old but is an ancient, live tradition that we in Eugene just take for granted.

Please don't take it for granted. Go to any mall store and see what else is out there, things like every other thing made in sweatshops, made to self-destruct and be thrown away. Think about what you would be having to buy if you didn't live in Eugene. Think about how much you wanted one of Eddie's rugs and now she retired and you can't just roll one up and strap it to the back of your bike any old Saturday. Don't let go of your little pieces of the artist's souls, so available, so easy to find each and every week from April to Christmas. Think about how empty the Oregon Country Fair would be without the handcrafters, how much it would look like any other festy festival in any other woods, and when you win a piece of art at the Spring Fling for a dollar, check it for fingerprints of a real person who gave you that for free. No profit, no cost recovery, no strings attached. Love is what just happened, so don't forget to do your part to return it.

I told Diane my oft-repeated line that the Market made me while I made the Market. I'm not exerting my ego there to say that; I know I didn't do it alone. One person taught me to step up and learn consensus process, another bought one of my signs so I could make another, somebody else asked me to make them a t-shirt or bought one of my cards. Some one smiled and told me they liked my stuff. Each tiny piece of encouragement, each small purchase, each warm greeting or even that hug given reluctantly by some introvert, each piece of that got me to come down one more day and make one more thing. This is my fortieth year down there, my sixty-fifth on the planet. Market made me. I'm making the Market. I did it yesterday and I'm doing it on my day off today and I will do it tomorrow. I will do it while I'm on vacation and I will do it at my funeral. I hope it does bring a tear to your eye. I cry every week down there and after I get home, there are tears of joy and deep satisfaction. If you don't get it, don't see it, I don't know what more I can say or do.

Thank you for the things you did. Thank you for the times you got mad and walked away because I was listening to someone else and ignored you, because you taught me to be a better salesperson. Thank you for hauling your cousin down there against her will so she could fall in love or at least eat a pork stick. Thank you for noticing the Jell-O on my head, and making me feel gorgeous in all my grey-haired silliness. Thank you for visiting me and letting me give you something. Thank you for not calling me on Sunday morning so I could do some writing. Thank you for it all. I hope you got as much out of it as I did. I hope you will help me write the rest of the stories that need to be told. Just keep in mind that all you read, all you see, all you know, will never be the whole story. That's because it isn't finished, it's a living story. It doesn't have an end, so stay immersed in it and listen to the rest. I might die down there looking at the cedars, but some young person will take my spot and make it theirs. Buy their tote bag. Love them. Keep it going, because you are part of it, and it can't happen without you, too. Yes, YOU! Yes.