A Bold Jumping Spider At An Art Show
My last outdoor show of the season had the promised forecast of a summer day, much to the delight of artists, community planners, and visitors to Savage Community Park in Savage, Minnesota.
Although the morning was breezy, our setup went well; we faced north and welcomed the sunny day. As the day progressed, the southern wind picked up; we kept telling ourselves, “at least it not as bad as the St. Augustine Art Festival” (See blog: A Windy Day and a Sweet Escape, March 26, 2026)
I noticed a spider crawling on one of my tables and discovered it was a Bold Jumping Spider, common near open fields and urban areas. The park was a perfect place for this spider to find my tent. I didn’t capture its face with my camera, even though it has eight eyes; four frontal eyes stared at me, two of the four were large and inquisitive, giving it an expressive face. Its fuzzy body scurried along; yellow spots formed a triangle on its abdomen. I observed how the sunlight reflected on its silvery hair, giving it an iridescent appearance. I later read that these spiders don’t like the wind; it would be an adventurous day for them, as it was for all of us in attendance.
My neighbor to the west was a fiber artist; she struggled all day as her lightweight felted works of art toppled over and took flight. She used rocks to hold down stands for her whimsical hat pieces, but a gust of wind was no match. After she and her husband started packing up early, her tent somersaulted, and many arms caught it just in time.
Artists can use unpredictable weather to find support and help one another; we were all doing the same thing, physically holding onto the corner post, even though they were weighted with sandbags and stabilizers. Throughout the park, you could hear voices calling out, crashing sounds, and prints flying out of their cradles. Throughout the park, whoever walked by helped pick up lost work, offered to hold on to tents, and shared in conversations.
We lowered our tent sides to keep their “sails” from catching the wind. Then I laid my work on the tables; instead of thrashing around, a gust unexpectedly lifted a painting, sent it flying, and it glided across the pavement, scratching the Plexiglass and bending the metal frame. Other wooden frames chipped when the gust blew them off the tables.
That was it: accept defeat and pack up an hour early, but we were not alone; others were doing the same.
I don’t know what happened to the Bold Jumping Spider; the last I saw, it was using an open zipper as a ladder, bravely against the wind. Another opportunity to blend observation in nature and creativity in unexpected ways.
I hope other participants don’t lose hope and can stay as bold as my spider visitor, and still embrace another art show despite unpredictable weather.
What unpredictable weather events have you had at an art show, as a participant or a visitor? Please feel free to leave your comments below.
