In her Sicklerville pottery studio, Trudi Clark sliced off a wet hunk of clay and threw it down in a clear space on her cluttered work table. She peeled it up and slapped it back down with a few flicks of her wrists. Within moments, the gray slab was as flat as pizza dough, ready to be transformed into a work of marketable art.

She could use machines or a tool to “throw” her clay, instead of aggravating the arthritis in her hands. She could have her designs mass-produced in China. But Clark is a self-taught artist who believes the words “locally handmade” have value.

So does the Philadelphia Flower Show, which opens to the public on Sunday. Clark is among the 155 vendors privileged enough to pay the fees to occupy one of the coveted Marketplace booths. (Vendor fees range from $4,000 to $20,000.)

Stiff competition

Clark is among a number of vendors at the show who make and sell their own work, said Tanya King, the show’s senior Marketplace coordinator.

The vendors sell horticultural items, garden accessories, home accessories, botanical art and jewelry.

“I’m really looking for things that you can’t find in Target or Wal-Mart,” said King. “(Clark’s) products are unique.”

Vendors face judging, just like the garden entrants, and can only come back to next year’s show if invited. Judges want to see professional displays and new ideas.

“I like the idea of judging,” said King. “It keeps things fresh.”

This is Clark’s 13th year at the Philadelphia Flower Show.

“It’s such an honor to be at the show,” said Clark, 56. Association with the flower show gets her into other shows and garners respect, she said.

Labor of love

It takes guts, guesswork and a good head for business. To make a profit, Clark needs to figure out what will sell at what price in which color. Sales from the nine-day show account for about a quarter of Clark’s annual earnings.

“You don’t just go to the flower show and put up a booth and sell — especially if you’re making everything (by hand),” said Clark, while taking a break in her studio.

The work begins months in advance.

This year, Clark is making a couple thousand ceramic garden mushrooms (fanciful pieces in fairy-garden colors, meant to decorate flower borders and window boxes); wall pockets (lace-imprinted flower holders with flat backs, meant for hanging); lace-imprinted birdbaths with hand-wrought iron bases, little Celtic magnets for the refrigerator and mosaic picture frames.

“I have to make $50,000 worth of inventory,” said Clark. “If I sell half of that, I’m happy.”

As Clark talked, she added the final flourishes to a birdbath, one of 30 she will make for the show. After throwing the clay, she pressed in a piece of antique lace and then pulled it away, leaving behind an imprint borrowed from an old wedding dress. With a scalpel-like knife, she cut out the design and attached it to the edge of her birdbath.

Later, it would dry for three days before being glazed and fired in a kiln for eight hours. Each birdbath takes about 16 hours of labor to complete.

Besides making her inventory, Clark has to pack it up, unload at the Philadelphia Convention Center and set up her booth and lighting. Vendors must follow strict rules and must stay organized and neat. It takes three days to set up. She recruits volunteers — mostly friends and family — to help.

While the Marketplace is open and packed, Clark and her volunteers assist customers with little hope of a break. She brings along a Thermos of tea and munches on pretzel sticks and Swedish Fish to get her through the busiest times.

By the end of the show, Clark said, she is exhausted and doesn’t care what she looks like.

Despite the stress, the financial risks and the labor, Clark comes back every year. The compliments of customers from around the country and even world sustain her.

“I love it,” said Clark. source : www.courierpostonline.com