by Joy Coleman, 1989
I began my stall experience at Red Hill Market in early 1976 when my art group paid one dollar to hire space to show paintings for sale. In those days it was first in, first served, for a site and we decided to hang our work on the northern tennis court fence. We did not make a sale and my fellow artists were not eager to rise at 4:30am to set up in the dark and cold so they dropped out leaving me to continue on my own.
My next site was with a trellis leant on the wall of the large pavilion near the south west door. Unfortunately, I was right under a hole in the spouting which leaked profusely and soaked both me and the ground around me. After a high wind blew all my works of art into the mud I decided to shift camp to a new venue.
I chose a vacant stall sheltering in the old pavilion near the road. Although the stalls didn’t extend up that far at that time at least I was warm and dry. I was later joined by the soap and candle folk, a plant seller and a wooden sign carver. The Community School pancake tent came along side and a profusion of stalls followed. I was devastated when the rebuilding of that pavilion was mooted and I was evicted I moved to the main pavilion where, fortunately, I have been located ever since.
I have had many varied experiences during my years at Red Hill and a number of funny ones come to mind.
One day I sold some of my Australian native flower collages to an American with an accent as broad as the brim on his Texan hat. He told me that they were the most original Australian gifts he was taking home as he had actually met the maker, all the time he was shaking my hand in a vice like grip and whilst smiling appreciatively. I was in absolute agony as I have a muscle wasting disease in my thumbs and feared I may never use them again. I get a great thrill out of knowing that little bits of me are hanging all over the world when I make sales like that one.
I have learnt not to hang my paintings at dogs’ back legs’ level as I had one painting rendered unsaleable when a dog showed what he thought of it by weeing on it, ruining both canvas and frame!
Two young women came to my stall one day saying they were so glad to have found the Country Women’s Association stall. My helper, Lois Carter, and I explained that we were not C.W.A. at all, and they happily replied that they knew that, but they always called ladies with big busts C.W.A. ladies!
In 1977 framing friends Jean and Bob Stone joined in the market selling lovely home tanned sheep skin rugs, the sale of which was very welcome when cattle prices plummeted. The Stones would always sell out their tanned rugs and pack up long before I could and they would come up to my stall to offer me a long awaited cup of black tea from their thermos. Onlookers were always unaware that their welcome pick-me-up was decanted sweet sherry! Jean had to give up her tanning because the kerosene she used affected her chest and when the pet goat, Della, keeled over after eating the residue from the fleeces, she decided to call it quits.
One morning a lass asked me what sort of pickles I had in my conserve area. I eagerly named a string of vegetables which made up about eight varieties. She didn’t seem impressed and asked me did I have any made with “just pickle”? I am still scratching my head at that request.
Several years ago we changed vehicles and had to come to the market with a small tray truck. My husband rigged up a frame and canopy which set up a flop in the wind, and we strongly resembled the Clampetts as we virtually sailed down the road early in the morning to the market.
Conducting a stall at Red Hill has been a wonderful study of human behaviour as one encounters all sorts of different characters, the generous, the mean, the undecided, the impulsive, the excited, the old, the young, all friendly and pleasant. In nineteen years I have never had a single complaint.
I have loaned complete strangers rain coats, umbrellas, gloves and even gum boots. I have minded their purchases, their dogs and babies, have fed their toddlers, rested their grand parents and taken their cheques and I have never been let down by anyone in all that time.
It is my fervent hope that the spirit of the market continues to flourish as, although it has its imitators, Red Hill is unique.