Yours truly, Munchkin, and bestie Danielle ready to work.
There is something strange about spending so much time making things in your own little bubble and then, one day, putting all of it on a table for sale.
On August 8, that table was at the Watertown Arts Market.
It was my first time vending in about five years, and I was nervous.
Not about Phoenix Rising.
About the art.
Writing I’m used to. At this point, handing someone something I wrote and waiting for judgment is just a normal Tuesday for my brain. Visual art is different. Aside from the inner circle, I hadn’t shared any of my art since high school.
But I put it on the table anyway.
Actually, bestie Danielle did. While I wandered around like a confused granny trying to remember what I was doing, she somehow turned my pile of books, prints, magnets, pens, bookmarks and assorted Alicia-made chaos into an actual display.
Everyone needs a Danielle.
My borrowed tent required what felt like a six-person ritual sacrifice to open, and it was hot as hell.
Of course, vending is only one side of WAM for me. I’m also one of the committee co-chairs.
Event day is so overwhelming there’s no real time to stop and think, look what we built. You’re mostly thinking, what needs to happen next?
And what struck me this year was how well everyone just… made it work.
WAM is entirely volunteer-run. There’s no event company hiding behind the curtain. It’s a group of people donating their time to bring artists, authors, makers, performers, food vendors and the community together for one day.
When something needed to happen, it happened. Extra tents and coolers appeared when people needed them. Questions got answered. Problems got solved. Everyone kept moving.
And despite it being approximately as hot as Satan’s inbox, around 3,000 people came through Arsenal Park.
The feedback from vendors and attendees has been overwhelmingly positive, which means a lot when you know how many people it takes to make WAM happen. Seeing the pre-event group photo really drove that home.
Some of the volunteers behind WAM 2026 before the market opened. Photo: Natalie Nigito Photography
My own sales were a little weird, but I got marginally better at pitching my work and someone bought Buzzing with Life, one of my favorite digital pieces.
Buzzing with Life
So no, WAM did not magically cure my visual-art imposter syndrome.
But I’ll take it.
I’m also a reluctant townie, which makes getting to do all of this at Arsenal Park particularly cool.
I grew up here, and the park has been part of my life since I was a kid. Watertown has changed a lot since then. The metal slides designed to brand children like cattle are gone, and the sad rust-colored sprinkler has become a technicolor splash pad that today's children should appreciate because WE SUFFERED FOR THEM.
But the bones are still there. The stone amphitheater is still shaded by trees. It still feels like Arsenal Park.
So after five years away from vending, I put my art in front of strangers, survived ten hours in the August heat, and helped bring 3,000-ish people into a park I've known since I was a kid.
I'd call that a pretty good day.
Next time, though, I'm bringing a better fucking tent.