By someone who’s stood in enough empty halls to tell you the truth
Let’s talk about markets. Not the market, not Wall Street—I’m talking about flea markets, craft fairs, trade shows, Christmas markets, culture nights, music festivals, and anything that promises “exposure” in exchange for three days of your life and a sore back.
Here’s the deal: it has to be worth your time. That’s the golden rule.
1. Markets Should Be More Than One Day—Here’s Why
Personally, I don’t do one- or two-day markets anymore. The amount of setup and teardown it takes to create a good display, pack my tools, label everything, drag it across town, and rebuild it all in a 10×10 square… it’s a lot. And it’s not just time—it’s time away from creating in the studio, from shipping orders, from other income streams.
For a market to make sense, it has to give me back more than what I’m putting in—and I’m not just talking about sales. I mean exposure, connections, wholesale buyers, foot traffic. If it’s a tiny market in the middle of nowhere with twenty vendors and an organizer who forgot to advertise? Been there. Never again.
You’ll probably do those in the beginning. I did. We all do. It’s how we learn the value of our time.
2. Ask These Questions Before You Apply
If you’re on the fence about a market, don’t just ask, “Is it cheap?” or “Do I have that weekend free?” Ask questions that actually protect your time and energy—because at some point, “exposure” stops being a goal and starts sounding like a diagnosis.
Here’s my checklist, fully explained:
How many days is the event?
This is the first thing I look at. Why? Because every show has invisible hours—setup, teardown, drive time, booth prep, pricing, signage, etc. If you’re going to spend 10 hours prepping and 4 hours recovering, does it make sense to do all that for just 6 hours of open selling time?
Short answer: no.
Longer events give you the luxury of momentum. You can set up once and leave it. You can refine your booth between days. You can gauge what’s selling and switch your strategy. And more importantly, it lets people come back. A shopper who was on the fence Friday might return Saturday with a friend—or cash. That doesn’t happen in one-day gigs.
What’s the expected foot traffic per day?
Not all crowds are created equal. A market boasting “a thousand attendees” sounds great—until you realize they mean a thousand total people over five days and half of them are toddlers chasing balloons.
Ask for real data. Per day. And push for context. Is it held in a convention center with regular flow? Or in a church basement next to a seniors’ knitting group? I’ve done markets where they promised hundreds—but only if you counted vendors, volunteers, and pigeons.
And remember: more people = more opportunities, but only if they’re the right people. Which brings us to…
Are there buyers, or just browsers?
This is critical. Some events attract art lovers. Others attract “let’s take our toddler to look at pretty things and eat free samples” crowds. And some just attract vendors who all buy from each other out of boredom and pity.
Ask yourself:
- Is this a shopping event or a strolling event?
- Are people coming to spend, or are they coming for the entertainment?
- Are they leaving with bags, or selfies?
I’ve sold at farmers markets where everyone was clutching $20 bills meant for tomatoes—and I was the oddball artisan trying to sell a $200 necklace. Beautiful pieces, zero traction. Wrong crowd, wrong vibe. Don’t be that artist.
Are wholesale buyers expected?
This is where the game changes. Some of your biggest sales won’t be to walk-by customers—they’ll be to boutique owners, gallery curators, or store buyers who attend events scouting for new stock. They don’t always announce themselves, but they’ll flash a card, place a bulk order, and make your entire weekend worthwhile.
If the event tends to attract those kinds of buyers, that’s a good sign. If it never has and never will, then it’s just a retail grind—and you better price and plan accordingly.
And by the way, don’t expect wholesale buyers only at “wholesale shows.” That’s old thinking. Those shows are fading. These days, buyers go to retail events and shop like regular humans—but with big budgets.
Is it juried or curated?
This is the quiet red flag nobody talks about enough.
If the market is juried, it means someone actually reviews vendors and approves based on quality, originality, or category balance. That helps prevent the dreaded “beads-on-elastic next to oil paintings” vibe. It also protects the integrity of what’s being sold—and the credibility of your own work by proximity.
If it’s not juried, ask:
- Is there any standard?
- Any limit to the number of jewelers or candle makers?
- Any effort to verify if the products are actually handmade—or just bought from AliExpress and hot-glued onto cardboard?
Because let’s be real—if you’ve spent 12 hours shaping a stone, fusing metal, and setting it with precision, the last thing you want is to be next to someone selling $5 “handmade” bracelets they picked up in a 500-pack.
3. Setup Time Is Real Time—So Make It Efficient
Every hour you spend setting up or tearing down is time you could be creating or selling. That’s why I eventually bought a trailer just for shows. It’s pre-packed. I know where everything is. I can wheel out shelving units that are display-ready. I’ve even met artists who’ve converted entire trucks into mobile storefronts—with lighting and music—so they never have to fight with a tent again.
If your setup is fast and easy, you can start doing shorter events. Imagine a one-day art night with a thousand attendees—and it only takes you an hour to get ready. Suddenly, that becomes a yes.
Pro tip? Practice your setup before the event. Find what’s slowing you down, streamline it, make it repeatable. If it’s not repeatable, it’s not sustainable.
4. Bring Something to Do While You’re There
Markets can be painfully slow. Bring admin work. Bring half-finished projects. I’ve flintknapped arrowheads at my booth. I’ve carved wax models. I’ve wire wrapped stones. It gives you something to do and gives people a reason to stop and ask questions—which is often how the sales begin.
Even better: working at your booth shows people that you’re a maker, not a middleman. That matters.
5. Long-Term Goals: Think Bigger Than a Booth
Some of the best in my field don’t even do markets anymore. Or if they do, they run their own—renting venues, trucking in inventory, and skipping retail altogether. Others, like me, are headed in that direction: building out systems so employees can run events for you. Pre-priced, pre-packed, and polished. Because the ultimate goal is less admin, more art.
Closing Thought:
Just because a market exists doesn’t mean it’s worth doing. Your time is a currency. Spend it where it pays you back—in income, in exposure, in connection. Not in folding tables, parking lots, and empty promises.