A Good Market, A Gentle Shift

A Good Market, A Gentle Shift

A Good Market, A Gentle Shift

This past market was a good one.

Not in a flashy, sell-everything way, but in the way that matters more to me: people lingered. They asked questions. They picked things up, held them, put them back down, then came back again.

The Unbelongings were especially well received.

A few of the prints sold for a reason I didn’t expect but loved immediately. More than one person said some version of:

“It makes me smile. And you should always embrace the thing that makes you happy,

especially in today’s world.”

That stayed with me.

Because that’s exactly the quiet work these pieces are doing.

They aren’t meant to convince or impress. They’re meant to offer a small, human moment of recognition, sometimes strange, sometimes tender, sometimes just oddly comforting.

The bags were loved on too, touched, admired, tried on. Several found their forever homes, but even when they didn’t sell, there was clear affection there, which I take seriously. Sometimes something isn’t a “not yet” because it needs fixing; it’s a “not yet” because it needs the right moment.

I have another show this Friday night, the Obscure Art Show at the Brickyard, from 6 until close, and I’m making one small adjustment.

With Valentine’s Day falling on Saturday, I’m planning to bring a couple of the heart-themed Unbelongings with me.

Not as a push.

Not as a seasonal gimmick.

More as an offering, for anyone looking for a gift that isn’t loud or obvious, but says I saw this, and it felt like you. Or even for someone who wants to honor their own joy, quietly, without justification.

I don’t bring everything to every market. I’m learning to let each show have its own personality, its own emotional weather. Friday feels like a night for gentler pieces, quieter offerings, and things that reward a closer look.

If you’re coming, I’d love to see you.

If you’re following from afar, thank you for witnessing this slow, intentional unfolding.

Sometimes success doesn’t announce itself loudly.

Sometimes it just feels like being understood.