But this brings me back to my point, because my son told me his painting was for mommy. He did not create it and feel proud because he had accomplished something, he was proud because he made me a gift. This is how I feel. I know many artists berate others for "giving away" their art, and yes I like money, but I love the sense of giving something to others, especially if I created it. Is it simply from our childhood when a macaroni painting would be accepted from our guardians as though it was a replica of the Mona Lisa? Is it from when our finger paintings and rough drawings of the imaginings of our heads seemed to overwhelm them like seeing the Northern Lights in person? I cannot say.
I would love to have enough money, time, and health to simply dive into all the artwork in my head and simply leave it on the intended person's doorstep, hiding in the bushes to see their reaction as they receive it. That would be enough. I guess that's why I have a hard time putting a price on my art. Value of art is never set in a monetary state. It's in smiles, giggles, and tears.