Why Walking Away from Craft Fairs And Markets Was the Best Decision I Ever Made

For me, creativity has always been about connection to nature, to people, and to a slower, more intentional way of living. My paintings celebrate the countryside: the quiet rustle of leaves, creatures in the hedgerow, the soft rhythm of the seasons, and the calm of wild, open spaces. I’ve always wanted to bring a little of that stillness indoors and to create art that reminds people of the beauty that still exists beyond our screens and schedules.

For a while, that meant taking my work to local craft fairs and Christmas markets.

At first, it sounded idyllic, the rows of stalls, the hum of conversation, the smell of coffee and mulled wine. I imagined chatting with customers, sharing the stories behind my paintings, and watching my work go home with people who truly loved it.

But the reality was not quite what I had imagined.

Most weekends meant early starts, car loads of prints and stands, and long hours in draughty halls. Many events were poorly advertised; sometimes there were more stallholders than visitors. The few people who did wander through were often looking for a bargain, not original art created by hand.

It was exhausting. Not just physically, but emotionally. I poured so much energy into each event, only to return home tired, deflated, and wondering if it was really worth it.

The Turning Point

One Christmas fair was the moment everything changed. I was sitting opposite a stall of handmade snowmen and Father Christmases. They were lovely, full of care and charm, but they weren’t selling either. We exchanged sympathetic smiles, both quietly realising it wasn’t about effort or talent. Sometimes, it’s simply the wrong place, the wrong audience, or the wrong time.

Driving home that evening with boxes of unsold paintings in the back, I had two choices: I could see the day as a failure, or I could use it as a springboard.

That small shift in mindset changed everything.

Finding a New Path

I started thinking about how I could share my work in a way that didn’t depend on local footfall or weather forecasts. I wanted my art to live beyond the frame, to become part of people’s homes and daily lives.

Around that time, I’d been following a few artists on Instagram who were turning their illustrations into patterns. I didn’t even know the term surface pattern design then, but something about it sparked my curiosity.

So, I began to learn.

Armed with YouTube tutorials and endless cups of tea, I taught myself Adobe Illustrator and Photoshop. Slowly, I discovered how to turn my hand-painted watercolours into repeating patterns that could be printed on fabric and wallpaper.

It was slow going, a new world of layers, paths, and pixels, but it reignited something in me. For the first time in ages, I felt excited to create again. I’d found a way to merge my love of nature, art, and interiors into something that felt both creative and sustainable.

Lessons from Letting Go

Looking back, those disappointing markets were far from wasted. They taught me:

• Resilience: You can work hard and still not get the outcome you hoped for, and that’s okay.

• Perspective: Sometimes it’s not your talent or your effort; it’s simply the wrong setting.

• Adaptability: When something isn’t working, it’s often life nudging you to grow in a new direction.

In nature, nothing is wasted, even decay nourishes new growth. The same is true in creativity. Those quiet, uncomfortable moments often prepare the ground for something new to bloom.

Now, instead of packing gazebos and boxes, I spend my days surrounded by colour charts and pattern, designing pieces inspired by the countryside that bring the calm of the outdoors into people’s homes.

It feels like a full circle: still rooted in nature, still about connection, but expressed in a way that feels authentic, modern, and deeply fulfilling.

So if you’re standing at your own creative crossroads, wondering whether to keep pushing or to pivot, take heart. Sometimes walking away isn’t quitting, it’s making space for something better to grow.

For me, that something was surface pattern design and it’s opened up a whole new world I didn’t even know existed.

A Moment for Reflection

• Is there something in your life or work that feels more draining than nourishing?

• What might it look like to pivot, rather than push through?

• Could this difficult season actually be preparing the ground for something new to grow?

Sometimes, change doesn’t come with a grand plan, just a quiet knowing that it’s time to do things differently. Trust that instinct. You never know what might bloom when you make space for it.