There is something magical about watching my children live the moments that I remember from my formative years, watching them and remembering exactly how that experience felt to me as a child, being completely lost in the moment as the force of my bare feet hit the mud puddle sending the rain back toward the sky from which it came.
     As a child I remember on Christmas Eve, the inability to calm my anxious legs, while snuggled in my sleeping bag at grandma and grandpa’s house, my whole body alive with excitement, desperate for Christmas morning to come. Looking back at my childhood, many of my favorite memories involve the arts and art fairs. With both of our parents being artists, my sister and I were privileged (and sometimes forced) to experience every aspect of the art fairs at which they showed. Being that my son and I were going to Art and Apples (Rochester, Michigan) as spectators, he was spared the 5:00 am wake up call that artists endure. 
     We arrived in downtown Rochester in the early afternoon on September 11 and I was able to see from my son’s shining eyes, that this art fair was going to embody my favorite memories, and make a new one for Nathaniel and I. It’s worth mentioning that Rochester is a beautiful city all year, through every season. There is a certain attention to detail, a take-notice motif that seems to ribbon around the buildings, and down the sidewalks through the cafes and out into the surrounding neighborhoods. 
     On the north side of downtown is The Paint Creek Center for the Arts. This non profit organization worked together with the Washington Lion’s Club and Washington Township to make Art and Apples Festival the event it is today. In just three years Art and Apples has claimed second place for the largest juried fine arts fair in Michigan with an average of 125,000 viewers, and over 280 artists from across the country.
     Nathaniel and I were ready to see as many of these artists' work as possible, but every Art Fair Parking sign that we found near The Paint Creek Center for the Arts read, Parking $10.00. We opted to save the ten bucks for ice cream later, park on the south side of town and walk the four blocks to the fair. 
     Crossing Rochester Rd on 2nd Street, we soaked in the mixed medium displays. There was really something for everyone: hand carved walking sticks, prints, posters, photographs, paintings, blown glass, clothing, jewelry, even characterization portraits being done! We stopped at a booth that featured ceramics that caught my eye. Local artist Kathy Eaton was just as charming as her work. Kathy told us that it had been six years since she took an interest in ceramics. She sought out formal training at that time and has been developing her craft ever since. Though this year Kathy was one of many that agreed that 2010 had been more prosperous monetarily at Art and Apples than this year, she was happy to be there. I was glad that she was there as well; her art had a comfortable flow and somehow managed to be classy and rustic at the same time.
     Two booths from Kathy, we visited with custom clothing designer, Carolyn Harrington, also local. Carolyn’s booth was sold out almost completely, but still had patrons crowding the small space. People were asking where she would be showing next and how they could contact her. Carolyn shared with me part of what I believe to be one of  the secrets of her success, “I’ve been doing this for a long time… twenty eight years,” she said. “but you know, I am always changing things. I will leave things the same for a couple shows, and then I’ll have an idea, and I’ll change it all up. Everything will be different.” Her excitement was contagious, “I am full of ideas!” she said, “even though I have been doing this for so long, I am still full of ideas.”
     I could see Nathaniel contemplating this as we walked away from Carolyn’s booth. I love how he processes, compartmentalizes information that he will access at lightning speed later. He was full of questions, “How did they make that?” “Do they use a pump to blow the glass?” “Why doesn’t the glass break?” For the first hour we were there he only stopped asking questions for long enough to hear the answers, and help me decide which way to go.
     I told Nathaniel to be careful not to touch anything while I took pictures of Tom Michael’s iridescent blown glass. The pictures just didn’t do his work justice. I think it takes an artist to properly photograph art and I found myself lacking the right equipment and skill. Odyssey Art Glass (pictured below) features striking color and timeless design. The vases, lamps, centerpieces, ornaments, even the paperweights seem to have somehow been dipped in a beautiful day. Each addition displayed seemed to emanate purpose, as though the art itself was smiling, secretly comfortable in the knowledge of it’s value. Not surprising, Tom Michael’s work has been displayed and sold in many places, including the Detroit Institute of Art. I was surprised however that upon saying goodbye, the artist presented Nathaniel with an ornament, “Here,” he said, “this is for you, it’s for your room.”
     After we said thank you and continued our walk, Nathaniel was quiet for a while. He was looking down at his sweaty little hand, balled tightly around the bag that held his treasure. He looked as if he couldn’t trust his hand, without watching, to hold it tightly enough to keep it safe. “That guy must have somehow known that I would really love this thing,” he said.
     The displays seemed endless; it was as though the sky had opened up and flooded Rochester Park’s thirty acres with talent and inspiration. The people looked to have been freshly awoken. I wondered if all of their senses were sharpened at art fairs the way that mine are. The breeze would not have been as refreshing if the sun had not been so hot. With the breeze came a plethora of nostalgic scents: elephant ears, popcorn, cotton candy, freshly squeezed lemon aid, hotdogs, and apple pie. Lots of apple pie!   
     Three hours, and countless artist’s booths later, Nathaniel was beginning to show signs of fatigue. I know this is the start of a total transformation from boy to monster (in 4 minutes and counting) and we made the decision to head back. Making our gate straight and steady to the car was the goal, which was not met.
     Though we could almost see the exit area I continued to pull Nathaniel into booths that I just couldn’t pass up. Troy Anderson of Anderson’s Metal Sculpture had brought his work and positive energy to Art and Apples from Cedar Springs, Michigan. With a range of sizes, the unique copper and brass pieces not only grabbed attention from patrons passing by, but seemed to hold it. Each piece combined skill and creativity to bring a fresh face to the ancient art form.          
     Near by, husband and wife, Gail and Paul Phelps from White Lake, sat with their unspeakably lovely stained glass (Community Stained Glass, Inc.). I felt like I was six years old again and the Toys R Us catalogue had come just before Christmas! Notes needed to be taken, pages dog eared, and pictures obtained to ensure Santa’s compliance! 
     Nathaniel was playing with his new forked tail and petting his furry horns as I dragged him in to see the work of photographer Rebecca Prokop (Livonia, Michigan). I took two pictures of her work, knowing full well it was an exercise in futility. I believe that people create art because there is some thing that needs to be said, but the words simply do not exist. The art is the symbol of the statement. Rebecca’s art spoke volumes. It felt to me that she had captured not only images, but that she was able to convey, through her art work, what would be said if the words existed.
     We walked through the exit and over the bridge, stopping so that Nathaniel could look at the ducks. I looked back up the hill at the Art and Apples Festival. I knew that the patrons were tired and the artists were exhausted. I remembered years ago the end of long weekends in Union Square or Golden Gate Park taking down the art, carrying the display racks back to the bus and packing art into boxes (art is stacked front to front, and back to back). Everything had to fit like a puzzle. In hindsight everything did fit like a puzzle.
     I looked back at Nathaniel counting the ducks, his hand wrapped tightly with the bag that held his treasure. I knew exactly how he felt at that moment. I remembered. “You hold your treasure,” I told him, “and I’ll hold mine”  I knelt down and hoisted Nathaniel onto my back and started the four blocks to the car. “Mom?” Nathaniel said, “How much farther is it?” “We’ve got a little ways to go, babe,” I said, “But look how far we’ve come.”   Contact me at erinpmorey@gmail.com

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