LuckyInk
Reef Painter
We received our art show tent several days ago and have been very excited about starting the Florida circuit. In order to be accepted into most shows the art show committees ask for a booth shot showing how well your art shows when set up. Well, today we decided to set up and take our promo shot. This was no small task! This 10'x10' canopy took a few hours to set up in the 90+ Florida sun. Not cool.
If you have ever visited Central Florida you may already know that our afternoon storms kick up just like clockwork at about 4 or 5 o'clock. Unfortunately today was no exception. We expected to have the booth set up, stocked with art, take a few promo shots, and break it all down by 4:30. Well at 4:25 I heard a rumble that an artist with well over $10,000 worth of inventory can describe as devastating.
This storm caught us by surprise as we were expecting a easterly storm, which is the usual, but his one hit us from the west. With only seconds to set up the shot, we ran inside to grab the digital camera. I thought to myself, "Where is the tripod? Oh screw the tripod! It's starting to rain!!!" I look through the viewfinder and what do I see? Fog. The camera lens was so fogged up from leaving a 73 degree house to the 95 degree 85% humidity outdoors I couldn't focus on my shot. Then it really started to rain.
I toss the camera in my truck and head to the garage where me and my family sought shelter. We were able to zip the canopy to keep all the art safe and dry. I felt pretty good about having the tent there as the advertisements say it can withstand high winds. My feeling of security was only well founded since there were no high winds to speak of. But that was soon to change.
Frustrated, tired, nervous and almost hysterical, I sit in the garage as every original work of art in my inventory gets treated to a Florida storm, watching the tent as if I were watching a Penn real off the back of our fishing boat 30 miles off of Cape Canaveral. Then it moves. A gust of wind picks the tent up and gently sets it back down one foot to the right. I jump back as if a caged tiger just broke free of its confinement and charges for my jugular. For half a second I stop breathing, my heart stopped and time stood still. In that half second I saw all of my hard work over the last five years go floating away in an every day downpour. Then I woke up...
I race to the side of the tent to hold the poles down only to be greeted by my wife, Angela, on the other side. The rain is now coming down in sheets and the wind is getting worse. "What do we do??!!" she asks.
"I don't know but we need to do it now!" I call back. Angela's dad, Bill comes out to help now and we are all three drenched to the bone, waiting for this big white buffalo of a tent to come toppling down. I crawl underneath the vinyl wall to get an idea of what the fate of my art will be. Fortunately it is dry as a bone. But the storm has just started.
"OK, guys. C'mon in. We can hold her down from the inside!" I call to Angela and Bill. They quickly follow my advice as the lightening is getting worse and the rain shows no sign of letting up. By now, Bill is holding down the left front pole, Angela is holding the left rear pole and I am all by my lonesome holding down the entire right side. Now if you haven't met me yet, I am a 5'5" 150 lb leprechaun. Now imagine a guy my size reaching up over my head holding down a 6.6' tall canopy, which is now acting like a kite in the wind... Not cool. As we discuss what to do with the art, both Bill and Ang look to me for guidance. "Can it get wet at all?" they ask.
"NO."
"Should we get a towels and trash bags and move them inside?" says Angela.
I hesitate, thinking that the risk of my art getting wet is greater outside the tent. "Well, I think..." WHOOOSH! The first big gust of wind hits. Bill hunkers down one corner while Ang secures the other. I am left to rely on my strength, or what little I have to make sure this thing doesn't flip. We were moved by four inches.
"WHAT DO WE DO?" she demands. I hesitate again.
"The first thing to go in is Travis' Sailors View! It's my favorite and I can't let it go!" I reply. Fortunately, both Islamorada Setting and Love Triangle were sold just last week. Otherwise we would have had big trouble securing these oversized signature pieces.
"OK. Sailors view it is!" Ang runs inside to get something to cover the art. She returns with a cavalry of blankets, towels and trash bags. "Will this do?"
About that time I felt a little bit of wind on my bare feet. "S#!t, babe! It's coming back!" she cries. WHOOOOOOSH!
Bill is back at his usual station, and Ang hurries to her corner. I am left with a perfect view of all of my art dangling on the canvas walls of the canopy. I think to myself in that instant, "which one will fall first? God I hope a print falls on not an original." At that moment I am lifted off the concrete driveway by the wind. I struggle to keep my end of the hellish bargain down, fighting the freakish wind. This time we move back almost six inches.
"OK. Now's a good time to get your stuff in, Lucky" directs the retired Airforce Senior Master Sergeant. "Angie, grab the blanket and take this one." He hands her Sailors View, my only concern. She quickly leaves and returns with more blankets. In a matter of about ten minutes, she makes about 15 trips, securing each piece one by one inside. Bill and I continued to fight the storm with only a few minor gusts, but we beat it.
The rain subsided and the storm moved on to torment another artist somewhere. I could hear the vicious rumbles of thunder as it moved off, reminding me of how close some of the lightening hit while we were all three holding so dearly to an aluminum skeleton. I don't think I have ever felt such fear for my work, fear for my two best friends' lives and gratitude for what they were wiling to sacrifice for my dream.
Bill, Ang... I owe you both... Big time...
If you have ever visited Central Florida you may already know that our afternoon storms kick up just like clockwork at about 4 or 5 o'clock. Unfortunately today was no exception. We expected to have the booth set up, stocked with art, take a few promo shots, and break it all down by 4:30. Well at 4:25 I heard a rumble that an artist with well over $10,000 worth of inventory can describe as devastating.
This storm caught us by surprise as we were expecting a easterly storm, which is the usual, but his one hit us from the west. With only seconds to set up the shot, we ran inside to grab the digital camera. I thought to myself, "Where is the tripod? Oh screw the tripod! It's starting to rain!!!" I look through the viewfinder and what do I see? Fog. The camera lens was so fogged up from leaving a 73 degree house to the 95 degree 85% humidity outdoors I couldn't focus on my shot. Then it really started to rain.
I toss the camera in my truck and head to the garage where me and my family sought shelter. We were able to zip the canopy to keep all the art safe and dry. I felt pretty good about having the tent there as the advertisements say it can withstand high winds. My feeling of security was only well founded since there were no high winds to speak of. But that was soon to change.
Frustrated, tired, nervous and almost hysterical, I sit in the garage as every original work of art in my inventory gets treated to a Florida storm, watching the tent as if I were watching a Penn real off the back of our fishing boat 30 miles off of Cape Canaveral. Then it moves. A gust of wind picks the tent up and gently sets it back down one foot to the right. I jump back as if a caged tiger just broke free of its confinement and charges for my jugular. For half a second I stop breathing, my heart stopped and time stood still. In that half second I saw all of my hard work over the last five years go floating away in an every day downpour. Then I woke up...
I race to the side of the tent to hold the poles down only to be greeted by my wife, Angela, on the other side. The rain is now coming down in sheets and the wind is getting worse. "What do we do??!!" she asks.
"I don't know but we need to do it now!" I call back. Angela's dad, Bill comes out to help now and we are all three drenched to the bone, waiting for this big white buffalo of a tent to come toppling down. I crawl underneath the vinyl wall to get an idea of what the fate of my art will be. Fortunately it is dry as a bone. But the storm has just started.
"OK, guys. C'mon in. We can hold her down from the inside!" I call to Angela and Bill. They quickly follow my advice as the lightening is getting worse and the rain shows no sign of letting up. By now, Bill is holding down the left front pole, Angela is holding the left rear pole and I am all by my lonesome holding down the entire right side. Now if you haven't met me yet, I am a 5'5" 150 lb leprechaun. Now imagine a guy my size reaching up over my head holding down a 6.6' tall canopy, which is now acting like a kite in the wind... Not cool. As we discuss what to do with the art, both Bill and Ang look to me for guidance. "Can it get wet at all?" they ask.
"NO."
"Should we get a towels and trash bags and move them inside?" says Angela.
I hesitate, thinking that the risk of my art getting wet is greater outside the tent. "Well, I think..." WHOOOSH! The first big gust of wind hits. Bill hunkers down one corner while Ang secures the other. I am left to rely on my strength, or what little I have to make sure this thing doesn't flip. We were moved by four inches.
"WHAT DO WE DO?" she demands. I hesitate again.
"The first thing to go in is Travis' Sailors View! It's my favorite and I can't let it go!" I reply. Fortunately, both Islamorada Setting and Love Triangle were sold just last week. Otherwise we would have had big trouble securing these oversized signature pieces.
"OK. Sailors view it is!" Ang runs inside to get something to cover the art. She returns with a cavalry of blankets, towels and trash bags. "Will this do?"
About that time I felt a little bit of wind on my bare feet. "S#!t, babe! It's coming back!" she cries. WHOOOOOOSH!
Bill is back at his usual station, and Ang hurries to her corner. I am left with a perfect view of all of my art dangling on the canvas walls of the canopy. I think to myself in that instant, "which one will fall first? God I hope a print falls on not an original." At that moment I am lifted off the concrete driveway by the wind. I struggle to keep my end of the hellish bargain down, fighting the freakish wind. This time we move back almost six inches.
"OK. Now's a good time to get your stuff in, Lucky" directs the retired Airforce Senior Master Sergeant. "Angie, grab the blanket and take this one." He hands her Sailors View, my only concern. She quickly leaves and returns with more blankets. In a matter of about ten minutes, she makes about 15 trips, securing each piece one by one inside. Bill and I continued to fight the storm with only a few minor gusts, but we beat it.
The rain subsided and the storm moved on to torment another artist somewhere. I could hear the vicious rumbles of thunder as it moved off, reminding me of how close some of the lightening hit while we were all three holding so dearly to an aluminum skeleton. I don't think I have ever felt such fear for my work, fear for my two best friends' lives and gratitude for what they were wiling to sacrifice for my dream.
Bill, Ang... I owe you both... Big time...
