Stars

Just the other day I had a man come to my booth and ask if I'd be willing to loan a piece to a performer to wear on stage during a concert. This concert, by the way, is to help raise money for refugees. Now, you may not know it, but I used to be on the board of directors for an immigration and refugee council. As an immigrant myself, I have a lot of compassion for anyone who is a refugee, and not just your average run-of-the-mill immigrant, like myself. I mean, I chose to uproot myself. I had the choice. They don't.

Anyways, I was up for it. Anything to support a good cause.

In the end, though, this performer wasn't interested in this one piece, but was hoping that I could make two hand pieces for her to wear, which could then be auctioned off.

Well, that sounded awesome to me, and now I just have to design and make it.

But all this got me thinking about "stardom" once again.

I am often asked if I have ever considered movies, or tv, or selling to stars. The simple answer is "yes" and "no" at the same time. I mean, I've done movie pieces, and tv pieces, and have had "famous" people buy my work. But I don't really consider it. I just make my work, and let people buy what they will.

In fact, I'm often asked who has purchased my pieces, and I always respond with "I'm sorry but I don't share my client list."

Why not?

Because I want people to buy my work because they like it for itself, not because so-and-so purchased a piece. Besides, it also helps keep my prices reasonable. After all, I'm out to make a living, not a killing.

Way back when, sometime in the late 80s or early 90s, when I was in Chicago, I was at an art show selling my work. And up comes this very nice woman who began a lovely conversation, asking me all sorts of questions about my work. She explained what she was looking for, but, in the end, didn't buy anything. We talked for a few months about a possible special order, but nothing ever came of it. In the end, though, I was still very impressed with her courtesy and genuine interest. Her name? Oprah.

See? I can share her name, because she never did buy anything.

Odd that.

But a strange occurrence happened just a couple of years ago. Another famous performer came up to my booth while I was talking with someone else, who, presumably, was not as well-known. As I usually do, I turned and said "Hi" and went back to answering the first person's question, who was, by the way, a bit wide-eyed at that moment. The second individual interrupted me with some sort of question that came off as fairly rude.

"One moment. I'll be right with you."

Well, this wasn't good enough for Ms Well-Known.

"Do you", she pouted, "have any idea who I am?"

As someone who has dealt with many stars over the years, and worked with international diplomats and politicians on a consultative level, I am not fazed by this question. In fact, I am rather turned off by this type of ego.

Aside: I'm a big Doctor Who fan, going back to the 70s, when it first showed in Chicago on PBS. A little while later, the first Doctor Who convention was in Chicago, and I had the bounty of attending. There I had the pleasure of meeting Jon Pertwee for the first time. As he treated me as an equal, I had the impression of him as an older friend. When he returned, a few years later, I naturally went to see him again, just to say "Hi". This time he introduced me to his friend, Patrick Troughton. Well, later, when a mutual friend of ours told him that I was living in Oxford, he actually came out to my work to see me. A few years later, at another convention, I had an invitation to pass on to him, so I went up to the star suite to pass it on. When I walked in, and began to look around for him, another man came up to me and said, "Hi, I'm Tom Baker. Do you want my autograph?" Without even thinking about how rude I might have been, I instinctively said, "No", and continued to look for Jon. I think that difference of ego between Jon and Pat, and Tom, really made me appreciate Jon and Pat even more.

So, when this entertainer who was at my booth asked me if I knew who they were, I wasn't having any of it.

I turned to them, stared for a moment and said, "I'm familiar with your music, and even enjoy your movies. But no, I have no idea who YOU are." And then I went back to my other customer and proceeded to finish helping her to the best of my meager ability.

When I was done, I turned back to this second person, who was now far more courteous, and gave her my full attention. Just as I would anyone else.

And I could see, by her change in posture, that this distinction I had made between her and her work, really hit a nerve. Or struck a chord.

Just because someone is well-known, doesn't make them a star. A star, after all, is a source of guidance on a dark night. It helps the sailors know where to go, where they are. If a performer is filled with their own ego, they are not a star in my books. But if they are willing to help a young kid at a convention find their own feet, then they are truly a star to me, even if nobody else knows their name.

For now, though, I have to figure out how to make these pieces for this other performer, so that we can help a few refugees find their feet again.