I went with my friend, Robin, to the New York Renaissance Faire over the weekend. We went because her daughter is a potter, who exhibits and sells at various Renaissance Faires all over the United States. We arrived by noon on Friday to help set up. We wiped down counters and shelves, unpacked boxes and boxes of pottery, weeded outside the stand, and started displaying her work. I never realized what a tough job it is to do this kind of work. First of all, you have to be invited to be part of a Faire, then you buy a stand, and you want a good location. They don't come cheap. You hump your stuff out every morning of the faire then hump it back in at the end of the day because despite all the peace, love, and harmony amongst the rennies, there is still thievery. All week long, while the faire is closed, you create. She throws pottery and fires all week long to get ready for the next weekend. Incredible. She kept talking about things being back at the house. I finally asked what she meant. Behind the faire is a campground/campsite for the rennies to live in while they are working. She lives in a van with a mattress in the back, tv, cook station and kiln set up outside. There are bath houses for showering, but in reality there is no time for such nonsense until the night before the faire opens.
Some of her goods, bacchanalia goblets.
We spent Friday night in the home of a friend of Robin's daughter. They were away playing Pennsic war games, of which I had never heard. We spent Saturday wandering the Faire, watching the jousting tournament, pulling our chins back up to our mouths upon some of the outfits and outrageousness we viewed in the attendees (teeth sharpened to vampire points?), and had dinner at friend's of Robin's in the area. A quick swim, a few glasses of wine, a lovely dinner and wonderful hosts.
It was a fun weekend. Another girls weekend (two in one year!). I went away with someone new, met new people, experienced new things, and definitely came away with a better appreciation of the life of an artist.