Just heard from the New York State Fair…

The anticipation has been driving me nuts for the last ten days.

It began when I drove out to Syracuse with my six entries for the photography competition at the New York State Fair.  Got off at Exit 34A on the Thruway, then took I-481 to I-690, and then arrived at the Fairgrounds.  Each photo submitted – Nipper, Lighthouse, Voyage, Coca-Cola, Backboard and Thacher – was wrapped in protective bubble-wrap, and the back of each photo contained a hang-tag and claim-check, a pre-paid postcard, a sticker to list whatever reasons the photo might have been rejected, and a strip of masking tape (which contained the name of each artwork).

I had to get a replacement tag for one of the pictures; apparently whoever transcribed the name “Destination Voyage Rouge et Bleu” didn’t realize the whole thing was in French, and wrote “Destination Voyage Rouge et Blue” instead.  A quick fix – the corrected hang-tag was quickly applied to the artwork.  I don’t want anything disqualified on a technicality – not even because of a typo.

I signed in all six pictures to a receiving volunteer, she checked off my entries – three color, three non-traditional color – and I was on my way home.  I tried to get a read on whether any of the artworks would win – sometimes if you hand the artwork to a receiver and they say something like “Oh my God how did you get that shot,” or “Hey Bethany, come over here and take a look at this,” it means that photo just moved from long-shot to favorite.  But all the receiving volunteers were playing it close to the vest; the only thing anyone said to me was, “Your best shot to win might be in non-traditional black-and-white, there weren’t that many entries in that category, did you bring any?”

No… have to save the sprocket-holed efke shots for next year, I s’pose.

So I drove home.  That was over two hundred hours ago.  Yeah.  When you start counting days and it goes to counting hours, you know it’s important.  I’d start counting minutes, but then I’d be singing lyrics from Rent.  And to top it all off, I’ve run into a streak of very bad fortune – winless at the Altamont Fair, rejected by Who Wants to Be a Millionaire – at this point, my lucky penny is a few moments away from landing in a CoinStar machine.

So I tried to take my mind off the whole thing.  I worked on my lawn.  I took some pictures.  I scanned 25 graduation programs from Street Academy / Harriet Gibbons High School into the computer.  Wow, Elaine Houston from WNYT was the commencement speaker for the school in 1993, I did not know that.  Nice.

And every moment I checked the mailbox.  And the only thing I’m getting from the mailbox is practice on opening and closing its door.

Monday night, I come home from a long day.  Open the mailbox.

The postcards are inside.  THE POSTCARDS ARE INSIDE!!!

I ran upstairs with the postcards, taking care not to look at the backs of the cards.  For I know that each card will have a series of checkmarks on them; and the notes on each postcard will determine one of three things –

• The picture has been accepted for display at the Harriet May Mills Art Center during the 2010 New York State Fair.
• The picture has been rejected and will not be displayed.
• The picture has been accepted for display – and it has won an award (anything from honorable mention to first prize).

I laid the postcards on the dining room table, address-side up.

Lucky penny’s on the table.

Okay.  Time to flip the cards over, one by one.  I initialed the front of each card, so I know which card represents each artwork.

And the results are…

DESTINATION VOYAGE ROUGE ET BLEU Rejected. I swear… the judges have no respect for our Canadian neighbours. Just for that … no poutine for you! No donairs, either, no smoked-meat sandwiches…
BASKETBALL BACKBOARD BLAM!!! Rejected. I can only surmise that the judges must have been Battle Creek Knights fans. That, or they must have some deep-rooted hatred for the Razorsharks. Can’t understand why…
THE LIGHTHOUSE AT PEGGY’S COVE Rejected. I almost fall into the Atlantic Ocean trying to get this photo and it gets rejected? Hokey smokes…

All three of my “color” shots got bounced. And it’s not making me happy.  Not one teeny tiny bit.

I have three cards left on the table. Nipper. Coca-Cola. Star Trails.

There’s gotta be a winner in that mix.

STAR TRAILS OF SUMMERTIME Rejected. How can you reject this photo? How?!? Look at those star trails! Look at that vintage viewfinder!
COCA-COLA RELIEVES FATIGUE, SOLD EVERYWHERE 5¢ Unmarked. Huh?  No checkmarks whatsoever?  So is it in or is it out?  It’s like a light bulb – is it on or is it off?  Oh man, making me stress more and more…

All I have left is Nipper.  All I have left is Nipper’s Polar Panorama, my shot of the RCA Victor trademark atop the roof of Arnoff Moving and Storage.  It’s either this or I’m in a very very bad place.

I don’t want to turn the card over.  I just don’t.

But I have to.

And I turn the card over.

Although four photos were rejected outright – and there’s still no indication as to whether the Coca-Cola photo got in or not – Nipper’s Polar Panorama not only made the cut, IT WON A RIBBON!!!

EVERYBODY CELEBRATE!!!! HIT IT, DRAGON!!!!!!

Wait a minute wait a minute – what award did I win?

All the card says is “winner.”  But which award?  Honorable mention?  3rd place? 2nd place? 1st place? Best of class? Best of show?

There’s only one certain way to find out.

This Saturday.

Road trip to the New York State Fair.

And a promise I made to Vicki last year.

See, last year she wanted me to put my head in one of those goofy signs where you can be the head of an ear of corn, or the head of a cow, or something silly like that. Last year, I agreed to put my head in one of those – but only if I won third place or better with my photo.  Last year, I escaped that kind of humiliation in that my photo won honorable mention – 4th place.

In other words – I could be a winner – and a loser – at the same time.  But I won’t know until next week.  I could have ribbons – and enough head-in-signboard photos for weeks of embarrassing “Caption This!” blog posts.

But at this point… I don’t care.  Not any more.

And this time, it’s an “I don’t care” in a good sense of the phrase.