The value

Old piece of paper with a first drawing of a child.

Piece of a shirt, a box of matches, a simple pendant, cheap and old. A receive, piece od sea-wood, a stone… dried rose.

Maybe a book, a notebook, a pen, some pencils, old bear with no ear and eye… a painting, gold frame, heavy, big ring with a precious stone. A wooden frame, old and white painted with a photo which is already damaged. Or Santa… with a broken arm. A plastic bear, in fact there was a light inside of him, but now he is empty, still, is here. Or maybe just a necklace. A candle. Untouched, a bag, paper bag still weirdly dirty, smelly… with a piece of sprinkle on?

How weird?

A leaf, dried petals between sheets of paper, empty perfume bottle. Does it still smell? No… but you do remember, don’t you?

For someone they can have the same value for different persons. Different souls. For others they are trash, or something they can sell, and… have their own memories. Because in fact those things, which we sometimes cherish so much are only containers for memories, for thoughts, pictures, for dreams…

But when it comes to art… you never know how many hours someone spend on painting, creating, having visions, sketching… Art is the most complicated being to be valued. To be priced. It is just too hard because even if you can count hours, and paint, brushes, canvas, still, how much is for a soul, piece of me? Because for me art always should contain a piece of the artist. And if it is OOAK, really special piece… You can get it for free, even if an artists have spend hours creating it, just because, artists are special. Even if poor and clumsy, they steal can give you themselves for free…

Sooo… about the value… It is just complicated.

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