If I make take a moment to needlessly glorify in my childhood, my adolescence, and most of my adult years, I've been fortunate to mostly live in an area that still upholds something resembling a state fair. Growing up, my local fair was the Champlain Valley Exposition, which in fairness to the other fairs I should note that by State-of-Vermont standards, this particular fair is probably best described less as a classic agricultural fair than one of the suburban variety. In the years Amelia and I have been together, we've developed something of a taste for fair season, and besides the annual trip or two to the Expo in Essex Junction, we've hit the road for fairs ranging in style from boutique (Tunbridge World's Fair) to still willfully rural (The Addison County Fair and Field Days).

I'm not sure about how state fairs work out-of-state (but articles I read in national publications suggest they work similar), but one of the nice aspects of any fair we've gone to is that many of the events are inclusive and participatory, which makes much of what you see at the fair originates from nearby the fair, such as local farmers showing off their livestock, local gardeners in the annual free-for-all for fair's largest and fair's smallest produce, and a wide variety of local artists showing off their crafts, oil paintings, and photographs.

And whenever I traveled to a state fair, I frequented the art test, or art shack, or art hall, and saw the photographs up on the wall in front of me. While viewing these photographs, the same thought often crossed my mind.

"Yeah, I could do this."

I could do this? I've always nursed an inferior complex about my photography habit. Sure, I'm all for posting random examples online tacked with vague non sequiturs, but to actually venture outside the borders of my cozy webpage where the only easy comparisons of my work are with other examples of my work? No quicker way to highlight the fact that Ansel Adams, I ain't. On the other hand, while I might have issues with failure, people do seem to like the calendars. Besides, I'm now old enough to have been doing this for years. Also, I went and got that MBA, right? A businessman's not supposed to be afraid of a little failure now and then, right?

In any case, unlike probably 99% of exhibitions out there, state fairs tend to be open exhibitions. I don't need a portfolio (which I don't have), and I don't need to convince anybody of anything to get in the door (an argument I'm concerned that I will lose, as I don't have a portfolio). Plus, the overall feel of the fair seems right for an amateur to try this sort of thing out. Although certainly while many of photographers at these things are serious about their craft, most seem to be doing it primarily for fun, and secondarily for the thrill of having your work perused by thousands of local residents while they wait for the demolition derby to start, or often a superstar of country music to get on stage or lately, with alarming regularity, Larry the Cable Guy.

So, last year I decided to suck it up, frame some photographs, show them off at the fair, and see what happens. Being a resident of Chittenden County, the Champlain Valley Fair seemed to be the correct venue to try. Something about crossing county lines to exhibit photos didn't seem right to me. So I went about to discover how one gets photographs in the fair, and found that it's not that easy to find out. Being all modern and such, I searched the webpage for the entry form. However, the fair being somewhat of a throwback to an earlier time, an online form was not to be found. Eventually, I was able to track one down, but only by making a trip all the way to the administrative office of the Champlain Valley Fair, costing me my lunch hour in the process. Fortunately, I didn't need to talk to anybody, as there was a stack of "Exhibitor's Guides" right by the front door. I wanted to minimize the amount of talking at this point, because my adventure up to this point had left me with the feeling that they wanted to make it easy to enter in the fair but not necessarily too easy, and maybe I was more likely to talk myself out of entering the photography exhibit than talk myself into it.

The form itself was pretty easy to fill out, but, never having done this before, it seemed pretty open ended. Surprisingly, there was no entry fee. Also, the rules were pretty simple- you can enter up to three entries in the normal categories, but that didn't count "special categories". Photos had to be framed and wired, ready for hanging. To participate, you sent your form in, dropped off the photos at the specified time, and then picked them up at the specified time. The exhibitions were judged, and small prizes given to the winners and runners up. Also, you could put your works up for sale- you named your price, and the Fair took at 25% commission for every photograph sold. The three "traditional" photography categories that year were:

1. On the Farm
2. Up in the Sky
3. Nature in All Its Glory

And that was about it. There were really no other rules listed, and what was listed, while certainly an effective set of rules, was more basic that I expected. My excitement over the prospect of ludicrous sales, wide recognition, and cash prizes became tempered by my anxiety over all of the variables left undefined. What size should I make my pictures? What is truly meant by the photograph categories? I shoot digital, are digitals even allowed? If so, what level of touching up can I do to the photographs and still have them considered "traditional"? The last two questions, especially, determined what I could do. I only shoot digital, and it's very easy to touch up digital photographs. Is that, by the constraints of the Fair, not fair? I was planning on printing the photographs out myself off my photo printer. Do I need to have them professionally developed to be eligible? Do I even ask and risk an answer I won't like?

In the end, I decided that if they didn't allow digital photographs, then they would have been explicit about it in the rules. However, I split the difference on the manipulation issue- I figured it may not be proper to post-process photographs, so I resolved to print them out in the form that I took them- no pass through any editing software would be allowed for the purpose of this adventure. Also, I decided I was going to print them out myself, anyway- I'll let them try to tell the difference. With that in mind, I was ready to fill my form out and throw my camera case in the ring.

At this point, it was time to really sit down an figure out what my goals would be for this exhibition. What would I try to accomplish by sinking the time, energy and resources into this? What would I consider "success"? Ultimately, I divided my objectives into three primary goals:

1. To have fun.
2. To gain experience at exhibiting and possibly selling arts and/or crafts.
3. To make money.

Goal #1 was self-fulfilling and automatic. Goal #2 would be accomplished just by going through the motions. Goal #3, however, was something to strive for. First, unlike the first two goals, there was a chance for failure. Second, also unlike the first two goals, it's something I could measure, so I could actually give a concrete answer on whether I achieved or failed. For this goal, I decided to set the bar at the break-even point- if I was able to recoup the costs of producing the photographs, then I could call it a success.

Continued in Part II...