Sebastian
Art Festival or Arthurian Fable
!! Due to some technical problems I had to remove this previously posted story. With some changes I have reposted it.
⚡NEW⚡ For a more complete experience click on NOTES to access the ever changing interactive feature of the Road Ahead. (You can also find it at the top of the Homepage)
The Sebastian Art and Music Festival at Sebastian, Florida about 90 miles from home on the Atlantic coast is a very early event occurring on the 3d weekend of January. We have participated in this show several times over the years with different media: once or twice with silver jewelry and a time or two with Annie's pen and ink drawings. This go-around it was with Annie's drawings.
As a prelude to the event the PA system on the stage was pounding out Blue Oyster Cult classic creation The Reaper, and just for a moment I hoped that wasn't a foreshadowing of things to come. But, I thought, this is not a difficult show to work as far as set-up and access for the artists. There is ample parking not far from where our booth assignment was and there is room to park our little camper that we stay in while at the show. It is just a 16 foot long Jay Feather but with all the equipment needed to live...beds, stove, microwave, fridge, bathroom, shower, are all there but in miniature. Jayco RV trailers are well made and this one is about 10 years old but still in decent shape after a good bit of cleaning and remodeling went into it. (see photo above)
Not known as a very lucrative show Sebastian is usually good for a few dollars and being the first show of the year it is good for working the bugs out after we have been off shows for nearly 2 months. So all around it is generally worth doing.
However, January is winter in Florida. Weather is unpredictable especially as far north as Indian River County. The warmer more reliable weather is further south towards Miami on the east coast and south of the Caloosahatchee on the west coast. At Sebastian we are on the Indian River, a long bay that separates the mainland from a barrier island about a mile away. But the Atlantic is still relatively cold and it has an impact on the weather here. Because of the effect of mainland verses ocean the winds can be fickle. It is almost always windy here, sometimes breezy and sometimes ripping.
Saturday was not so bad, cloudy with a moderate amount of wind but no rain, all good in that department yet in sales not so good. But the forecast for Sunday was another story with the Weather Service predicting high winds and storms. In my book, The Other Road Ahead, page 3021, I discuss the sometimes supernatural nature of storms in Florida. Now the forecast was not for a hurricane but Florida storms do not have to reach that level to be dangerous. The proposed tempest heading our way was one of the unpredictable storms that is pushed out ahead of a cold front from some forsaken frozen tundra in the northland. When it hits the warm moist air across the peninsula it causes a wicked event of wind and electricity that can do great damage to artists hole up trying to make a living in the flimsiest cloth and aluminum tents where we eek out a living
Show management informed us Saturday that we could pack up and leave the next day without any stigma or penalty (an ominous sign) but naturally we like about 50 other bone-poor artists opted to stay Sunday and tempt the storm gods, betting our lives and work against the odds to get a few more hours of of sales in the face of being wiped out by an attacking windstorm. Not the first time in our career that we have made this bet.
People have asked me if I like to go to casinos and gamble. I tell them I don't have to because the life of a artist is a gamble citing just the sort of throwing-caution-to-the-winds (literally) and sticking it out at a show next to a huge body of water with no cover and a gust-field of about 30-40+ miles per hour setting its sights on me. No problem, I say to myself, we can handle it...somehow. Anyway what could go wrong?
I suppose I am in a era of gambling with long odds as I watch the news touting the upcoming Inauguration of President Trump looming on the horizon. Or I look back at Prime Minister Fico of Slovakia shot up with 4 or 5 assassin's bullets in him then getting out of the hospital and taunting the would-be killers daring them to try again and living to continue his fight for peace in Europe.
In Mr Trump's case I think he endured nearly every legal and social torture his enemies could concoct and played out his political hand with every odds maker stacking the numbers against him. Then the armies-of-the-night tried to assassinate him only to fail twice. Yet still he won, an inspiration to gamblers everywhere.
And here I am cell phone in hand with my wife staring at the radar, the storm predictors, Ventusky's elaborate meteorological graphics trying to find a scrap of evidence that supports our decision to stay on Sunday and make a few dollars . Alas, there was little from the computers to encourage us but like Townes Van Zant's epic song, Silver Ships Of Andilar, we sailed on into the cold winds in search of something we knew not what but assured of victory against the enemy of the future that was hidden just beyond view. Foolhardy and driven just like the Silver Ships but allied as we were in a common purpose. The alliance of dunces marching towards the iceberg in our little Titanic rowboat.
The winds grew fierce in the afternoon, mid-20s sustained at first and gusts in the upper 30 mph range but sunny for a time that lightened our mood and somehow whispered "...sunshine is a sign of fair weather...". True but this is Florida in January the serpents den of anonymous storms just bad enough to sink countless treasure ship and pirates alike just off the coast in the Bermuda Triangle. Yes indeed there was that factor scratching away at the back of my mind.
However, like the treasure ships of old some substantial art buyers showed up in our booth and adorned Annie with compliments and money to reward us for our long shot bet against the stars. Meanwhile the color of the sky transformed into a deepening purple bruise swirling and changing by the moment. From elation and relief to terror my mood flipped as the switch of emotions toggled back and forth until the show managers came by and in effect said, "Get out, we've got about an hour"...I did not need to be told twice.
This emergency drill was not a new rodeo venue for us. We have been here before. So we enacted the double-quick step fox trot and began the cosmic dance against time. Get all the artwork stowed away safely and in the van, knock down the tent so the wind won't blow the sides into ribbons then remove the top so we don't have to pack up all the polyester parts of the tent wet and slimy.
The cliche, almost-made-it, is only good in horseshoes, hand grenades, and government quotas but not in beating storms. We got everything down but the tent top which was soaked but did not go airborne due to a few precautions we had taken. After a half hour or so the storm blew through and we resolved the details. Somehow with Annie's bad knees and my ongoing spinal issues we finished cleaning up the mess and ensconced ourselves in the relative safety of our little camper and awaited the next opportunity to stumble into whatever fate our God has imagined.
I am reminded of ancient legends where people are thrust into dangerous situations fraught with evil spirits, witches, and armies set out to destroy the tiny folks dwelling in the forest. Watching a storm descend upon our little kingdom makes me wonder if the ancient stories are being retold in our lives day after day.
Please leave a contribution for the author 👇 (This is a very secure site and the people who operate this Tip Jar are helpful and receive only a small fee for their service)
MY BOOK CAN BE PURCHASED BELOW
You get the new Homepage and many more features including NOTES by clicking below 👇
