Description: Humblecore
When I was eight years old, I went to the local art festival with my mom. We wove in and out of booths, looking at ceramics and jewelry. The street was packed with people. Most of the displays were covered over with awnings, paintings mounted along the temporary walls.
One woman, however, sat alone at an open table, canvases stacked and scattered all around. No one was looking at her work. The sun was blazing down. Out of some eight-year-old pity, I approached, picked through a few pieces and asked my mom if we could buy one.
She asked the woman how much she wanted for the one I selected. I don’t remember how much the woman said, but my mom agreed, so it can’t have been much.