Chapter 9 – Farmers Market

Bette had started going around to the local swap meets and artist gatherings.  She knew she had to network in some fashion to get her work out there.  Kit had suggested that she contact some people from her past.  But Bette resisted this for a few reasons.  First, she liked her anonymity and second, she didn’t want to be embarrassed. 

Always your own worst critic, Bette didn’t place a lot of monetary value on her paintings.  This means she would have to sell a lot of them.  While she had gone crazy she hadn’t lost her mind entirely.  You can either sell a few paintings for lots of money or many for less money.  Either way she needed to start making some income.  Her nest egg was  running out and even though her therapy sessions were once per week, they were something she had to pay.

Thru this networking Bette was able to secure a once a week gig so to speak at the local Farmers Market.  The Farmers Market was an open parking lot in the area of town close to Bette’s apartment.  The market was opened on Thursdays and Saturdays. Thursday was the long day as the market stayed open till dusk but Saturdays were much easier being opened only till 2 in the afternoon. This parking lot had once been an office building which was torn down and now was a big empty parking lot which was partitioned off into booth spaces. This was an open market were she could spread out her canvases to sell over a 10 by 10 foot area. Many of the vendors were farmers bring in fruits and vegetables, craftsman with different arts and crafts, flowers and a different assortment of food vendors. Bette thought this was a great place to start and wanted to just see what happens.

Set up was early, 6AM. Many of the vendors selling fruit and vegetables to local restaurants had to be up with the birds. While Bette admired their drive, 9AM worked well for her. This way she could paint for an hour or two before getting down to the market. Bette had Shane help her put together a wooden frame of sorts that Bette was able to hang 10-12 paintings off. It was the kind of frame that would fold up and fit nicely into the back of Shanes truck at the end of the long day. Shane usually comes to get her around 7:30 in the evening. Bette had all her paintings hung and now all there was to do was to sit back and grab her water. The best part was that Bette could spend most of the day just watching people and enjoying the sunshine.

This experience was fun, enjoyable, and stress free. In a way Bette had time to sit back and smell the roses or even catch up on her reading. During the course of the first few experiences, Bette had begun to become friends with the other booth occupants. The booth mate next to Bette turned out to be a warm, generous outgoing guy named Jason. Jasons wares were different pottery creations. Striking up a friendship with Jason allowed them both to run off during the day and not be tied to their perspective booths. So after a time Jason became Bettes partner in crime at the farmers market. Bette and Jason, in turn, looking out for the others wares or helping when the other got inundated with people looking to buy either pottery or paintings. At first, Bette was surprised with how many people actually stopped and looked at her painting. But things were selling and that was good.
Jason: Bette what inspired this? Jason was starring intently at a painting that Bette has just finished the other day. The painting was inspired by one of Bettes memories of Tina. It was abstract, vibrant colors of red, yellow and blue swirling around a figure of a woman who appeared pregnant. The colors fade as they surround the woman.
Bette: What does it say to you?
Tilling his head to the side Jason begins with: I get a feeling of anxious anticipation which calms as you look closer to the woman. Is this someone you know?
Bette: Now, only in my dreams. Do you like?
Jason: Bette this is really good. I love the edge you take me to only to then wrap me up surrounded by warm security. The effect makes me want to stand here and be nurtured by this vision.