Blown to Bits

Recovering from a challenge is tough. What can we do?

My body is exhausted. I’ve never successfully navigated monkey bars before, but this weekend I held my arms in the air, grabbing at my exhibitor tent as if I could somehow hold it in place.

Another good little setup

This weekend was Hodag Heritage Festival, one of my longest running events. It was my fifth year vending, and probably my least successful year at the show. So, what happened?

I think I ought to start this off by saying that I didn’t have a bad time. In fact, overall, I had a pretty good time. Cathryn and Hue Gogh got to come along. We shared a cabin with another vendor (Lisa from Cryptid Comforts), and made a little road trip out of it. Something I love about getting to Rhinelander for Hodag Fest is that I have a smattering of returning customers and fans. In fact, it was one of those fans that inspired me to write this specific entry.

So much of what went into Hodag Heritage Festival, and what came out of it, feels like it culminated in what that fan said to me at the show. This fan has visited my table each year. Way back when I had more traditionalist monsters until now with my cryptid-inspired pinups, they’ve dropped by my table. I’ve had the opportunity to watch them grow creatively, too. They’ve been working on a fun Hodag fursuit for years. I’ve watched it grow from a tail and gloves to a full head and poncho. I don’t know any other hodag furries!

This year, they mentioned that they read my newsletter. This newsletter. Writing this newsletter is what I give my Monday mornings to. I think it’s important that, if I’m going to ask for your email address, that I send you something worth reading. Do I want you to follow my work and buy my stuff? Of course! (That’s business!) But I don’t want to waste your time, or mine. You deserve value.

I often look at other writers, and I see comments galore. I look at my work, and I see less. I hate to admit that I see less from myself than everyone around me. Whether its reads, comments, volume of products sold, or stacks of cash on the table, it always feels like I have less. But that’s just it. It feels like less, whether or not there’s any truth to that. Having one fan come up to me and tell me they read my newsletter and that they appreciate my perspective is huge.

I see my reads, and I know what does well, generally speaking. But, I rarely hear from my readers. I assume that’s because I am providing these little bite sized stories that are for chewing on and thinking about, not for rapid engagement. And, hey, that’s cool. There’s a powerful fire that comes from hearing someone in person tell me they tune in.

It reminds me of a frequent sentiment I hear about my artwork. At most events, I feel like I somehow drift into the background. I chalk this up to my general lack of fan art; the fact that I don’t have work you can point at and shout, “I know what that is!” People don’t want new things. But, when people stop and take in my artwork, I often hear, “whoa, this is actually good.”

“This is actually good,” rings in my head forever and floors me. I put a lot of time into practicing form and figure, I draw from real people, and I strive to improve my inking and coloring with every piece. If it takes close inspection to see that what I have is, “actually good,” what does that say about how I’m putting myself out there? Do I need six foot tall standees of my character work? Would my booth be received better with a giant cutout of my Watch The Skies mothman and Barbarian Queen hodag framing my studio name in giant letters? What does it take to not be background noise?

While it’s true that only a few of the attendees at Hodag Fest stopped at my table, it’s also true that the event was thinly attended this year. There’s a lot of factors that go into why the show might have been less impressive this time around. The leading reasons were most likely the weather and the cost of gas.

This was the warmest Hodag Fest that I can recall. The morning was warm and the day kept it up. It would have been perfect, if not for the wind. The vast majority of my work is paper, and I found myself chasing prints around and mourning bent corners as I picked them from the ground. Intense gusts reaching forty miles per hour took the thirty-six foot tall hodag inflatable at the end of the row down with a huge POP! Numerous vendors called it quits early. I took metal prints down an hour into the show, and eventually just had t-shirts available. It was tough.

Lil Joe trying to save the day

It’s unavoidable that the state of America is unforgiving and expensive. People have staggering rent bills, steadily climbing grocery bills, and, now, astronomical gas bills. Unfortunately this adds up to folks like me having to accept that you buying artwork is going to be less common now than it was two years ago.

Like the rest of us, I want to succeed. I want to be seen, and sought after. I am working in a specific niche that I’m getting better at all the time. I fight like hell, and I want it to be worth it. My arms are tired from grabbing the frame of my tent in order to find some solace in thinking that I’m holding it to the ground. It would be easy to say that Wisconsin had its way and its day with me. I could chalk it up as another futile struggle against a damning storm. But I won’t. Not yet.

Barbarian Queen Hodag

I had some wins. The Barbarian Queen Hodag print was the best seller of the weekend. That’s a victory. But, for me, the best thing I got out of Hodag Heritage Festival this year was connecting with the world’s most enthusiastic hodag furry who reads this newsletter. That’s pretty meaningful. I hope you dig today’s song, it’s sad and sweet.

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Today’s Tune