Anatomy of a Convention

GenCon 2009, but it could almost be any GenCon.

8/12: Finish packing what couldn't be put in the bags until that morning. I'm relieved: a box with 5 large paintings arrived safely at the inn the day before. Everything on 14x18" board and smaller, including prints, goes in my Eagle Creek backpack, which I take on board the plane. With its detachable sidebag (which has things 9x12" and smaller), combined weight is ~45 pounds. Curse the fact that I paint on masonite. One change of clothing comes with me, the rest in my rollerbag, which also has misc. convention setup items and toiletries. If it gets rerouted to Des Moines, I'm good for a day. Super Shuttle is 1/2-hr late beyond the pickup window, but I've padded my schedule. Bacon Double Cheeseburger meal at Burger King--conventions consist of unapologetically bad meals. I almost go out of my way to eat bad during them. 1hr45 to Indianapolis. Why is the airport so far from the city? $37 cab ride. I iron my clothes and hang them. My usual convention roomie, Ben Thompson, arrives 2 hours later. We walk to Bazbeaux Pizza--first time, may be a regular hit during future GenCons. Haven't seen each other in 10 months, since then he now has a sweet wife and a sweet job at Blizzard. Top of the world for that guy. We sit on the balcony of our inn, he smokes a pipe and we catch up on life 'til midnight. I eat leftover pizza with gluttonous abandon.

8/13: We have 1hr to setup our booths. Shake hands and hug artists I haven't seen since last GenCon. Steven Belledin calls: "Are you wearing the shirt?" I toy with him, but yes I'm wearing a shirt that has on it...Steven Belledin. He reciprocates wearing a shirt that has a picture of me. It's a long story, but his shirt was designed to get more attention. Throughout the day I hear my name muttered from his booth across the way, as people ask about his shirt.

A "best of" gallegosart.com You haven't seen 2 of those paintings before. They'll be here in time.

8/14: Having setup, we now have time for Starbucks in the morning. This helps. Friday is furiously busy. Back to my snazzier wardrobe. I dress better during conventions than almost any other time of the year. Don't let the shaven, pressed look fool you. Artist reception, after the show closes for the day. Juried awards are given out. One of mine scores 2nd place for Best Original Artwork. Chris Seaman takes Best in Show. We all bust our butts all year, and I've been happy with my improvement, but Chris squeezed more juice out of his efforts, and he deserves it. Saw his booth before the show this morning and had sincere envy over his "Undead" painting. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's painting.... Give him sincere congratulations, then plot his slow death. Quiet dinner of 4 people at Buca di Beppo, more awesome than a chain restaurant should be. Receive from Chris Moeller his original Selkie art, painted for some Magic packaging, which I traded for "The Swallowed Realms." File that under, "How to make a fellow artist a sucka."

I can't afford to buy art either, but at least I have stuff I can barter for it

8/15: Go from a tall-drip-in-a-grande-cup to grande-drip-in-a-venti-cup. Lots of sketching for people. Richard Garfield stops by to say hi. He's going to see Tsunekazu Ishihara, father of Pokemon, and asks for a favor. Ishihara-san loves Magic: the Gathering. Richard has a blank Magic card. I draw #052: Meowth in the art box.He'll add text and present it as a gift. Stranger things have happened. Wizards of the Coast holds a mixer for its artists, including dinner. I eat steak and tip my hat at Mr. Hasbro in thanks. Most nights end at hotel lounge where alcohol flows freely, and crowds grow large--I don't drink and don't much like large crowds. Eventually, a few of us eject and find quieter location to continue having actual conversation. Others join (not that we're so popular, there are just lots of folks around), we eventually eject again. Probably comes off poorly, but groups of 20 are just too loud. Did I mention I'm nearly 35? Can't party like I used to.

8/16: It's Sunday and I've failed to get up early to run at this convention. This is what happens when I'm not training for a marathon, the fear of which motivates me to get up at 6am to run. And I'm nearly 35. Running gear was there; I left it in the closet, alone and shivering. A couple have been eyeing a very expensive painting of mine all weekend. They come by one last time, and choose to have "The Conversation" with each other in front of my table. I pretend I'm in another room, and don't put a hard sell on. They both want it, but concede that it's outside their budget for now. I understand, and am glad they didn't buy it if it was. Paintings are expensive--I'll be the first to admit it. If one regrets spending the money on it, that's not good. I'd rather someone feel good about the purchase and fully enjoy the painting for years without regret. Been a decent show for me anyway, that would've just helped. A lot. But, still.

8/17: I've learned not to leave Sunday evening--you often have to pack up early from the convention and head straight to the airport. Ben and I meet Belledin and go to the airport way early. 2 Sausage McMuffins w/Egg. Told you I was intentional about bad food. Talk movies, give man-hugs, then go home.