Of course I met many new people with lots of enthusiasm for art and photography. I can't express how stimulating it is to have someone tell me, "Your work is inspiring," or, "I've never seen anything like this." Comments like that make me want to immediately run out into the wild with my camera in hand to find the next natural wonder, the next potentially spectacular shot.
The one "customer" that I wish I hadn't had was the woman who, instead of taking one of my business cards, took out her iPhone and snapped a picture of my praying mantis as she walked by. When I called after her to ask her not to photograph my work, she looked back briefly and then hurried off. In this case I believe that the woman's motives were not malicious and that she just took a photo of something she found interesting, not thinking that when she shares that photo with friends, they won't know its origin and therefore there is zero chance of them visiting my website and seeing my other work. I don't want to become a paranoid egotist, but good, bad, or indifferent, I'd like credit for what I create. It's my livelihood, after all.
My most unexpected visitor was the stub-tailed anole that darted out from underneath one of my tables, skittered across the rug, and stopped by my feet, at which point he very obligingly gave me the time to dig out my camera and take several shots. I was impressed by how quickly his skin transitioned from dull brown to bright green in color. After a minute of posing for the camera, my transient friend took off in a series of agile leaps that brought him to the top of a flip box. He paused there, perhaps sensing that he was actually standing on top of a photograph of one of his relations. A few more acrobatic leaps and a scamper later, he was a shadow on the ceiling of my tent. And then he was gone. So long, little lizard, and thanks for the spontaneous photo shoot! May your colors remain true and your tail grow long once again.
The one "customer" that I wish I hadn't had was the woman who, instead of taking one of my business cards, took out her iPhone and snapped a picture of my praying mantis as she walked by. When I called after her to ask her not to photograph my work, she looked back briefly and then hurried off. In this case I believe that the woman's motives were not malicious and that she just took a photo of something she found interesting, not thinking that when she shares that photo with friends, they won't know its origin and therefore there is zero chance of them visiting my website and seeing my other work. I don't want to become a paranoid egotist, but good, bad, or indifferent, I'd like credit for what I create. It's my livelihood, after all.
My most unexpected visitor was the stub-tailed anole that darted out from underneath one of my tables, skittered across the rug, and stopped by my feet, at which point he very obligingly gave me the time to dig out my camera and take several shots. I was impressed by how quickly his skin transitioned from dull brown to bright green in color. After a minute of posing for the camera, my transient friend took off in a series of agile leaps that brought him to the top of a flip box. He paused there, perhaps sensing that he was actually standing on top of a photograph of one of his relations. A few more acrobatic leaps and a scamper later, he was a shadow on the ceiling of my tent. And then he was gone. So long, little lizard, and thanks for the spontaneous photo shoot! May your colors remain true and your tail grow long once again.
Thus ends my second NC Azalea Festival experience. I'm already looking forward to next year!