Fifteen years. I’ve entered the Altamont Fair’s photography and fine arts competition for the past fifteen years.
And in those fifteen years, I’ve achieved some amazing highs and some soul-crushing lows.
And here I am once again, driving that windy road off Route 20 to get to the Fairgrounds on the Fair’s opening night.
It’s almost a routine, a tradition, a rite of August for me.
I obsess over which entries deserve their chance to shine for a week at the Fine Arts Building, then I self-judge at the last minute before finally submitting my four entries. Then I arrive at the Fairgrounds, look at a few animals, eat dinner at the little barbecue shack next to the fine arts building, then I go in and see if my artworks received ribbons or not.
Everything’s down to the final moments.
I’m ready to walk into the fine arts building.
Deep breath.
I walk in. And I look for my artworks.
And I first see Shoot Him on the Spoot, one of my entries that I composed with my Nikkor medical lens. And …
It’s there … but no ribbon.
Okay. I’m not worried. I’ve got my hammer eclipse photo up nearby, that just has to win something …
Wait, what? Seriously?
This is not good. Two entries, two misses.
Maybe the judges preferred an annular eclipse against a solar one. So let’s go over to the other side of the arts building and check out the black and white entries. There’s my other eclipse photo, and …
That reflection in the artwork’s glass is yours truly, and yeah, the disappointment is palpable.
Okay, one last chance. I’ve got a big fat drive-in speaker collage with original tickets and popcorn boxes, this just HAS to at least get an honorable mention of some sort …
Ugh.
Straight up ugh.
Damn it.
Yeah, you can tell I’m frustrated.
But then I looked around at the other artworks in the gallery. And I recognized one of my friend’s artworks – someone who I had suggested to her that she definitely consider submitting her fine photography to shows like this. I mean, I had to beg and plead and cajole her to do it, and she finally did … and one of her pieces took a second place silk.
That’s a win. And if I can resolve myself towards my own personal disappointments, I can revel at least that someone else’s artwork – someone who I felt had talent and needed to show her work at events like this – knocked it out of the park on her first try.
So I’ll take that as a positive.
But now I’m back on the clock. Twelve months away from Altamont 2025.
Twelve months to second-guess myself as to whether I held back an award-winner in 2024 for another image. Twelve months to come up with four new images and hope that I don’t suffer the same fate in 2025 that I did in 2024.
Or in 2012.
Or in 2010.
Or in 2009.
Yeah, I’ve got a hell of a memory.
And I need it to inspire me going forward.
Chuck The Writer 
I ;m so sorry. When people judge art, it’s SO subjective. Maybe you could have sent the watch innards. I’m very fond of Second Feature, which you’ve aleady SOLD! On Facebook, you wrote that you could/should have worked harder, but frankly, I’m not seeing that greater effort would have mattered. You have a lot of season left, and I highly suspect you’ll be bringing home several ribbons. Good luck, Chuck.
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For what it’s worth, my wife, Amelia, and I think that your art and photography is incredible. ๐
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Makes you want to look at what images did win to try and understand the judges’ thinking.
Anyway as an artist you’re allowed to be an egomaniac and avow that only your opinion of your art matters. If other people like it as well (and we do) that’s a bonus.
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File appropriately (in the rear-view mirror), and bask in your well deserved national / international achievements and exposure.
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