I'm Not Selling Product. I'm Placing Pieces.
This isn't about discounting the work. It's about honoring the connection.
He looked at me and said, “That’s the third one this year, Monica. You must be raking it in.”
I laughed and said, “Go ahead… guess what I sold it for.”
“Five thousand,” he said without hesitation.
“Not even close,” I told him. “Twelve hundred.”
You could hear the gasp.
And I understood it. Because if you’re looking at art as product, that number doesn’t make sense.
But I’m not selling product.
I’m placing pieces.
I sell my paintings to the person who writes me and says, “I don’t know why, but I can’t stop thinking about this.”
The one who tells me what they saw in it before I ever explained a thing.
The one who already feels something shift just from seeing it on a screen.
That’s the person I want the painting to go to.
I’ll even work out payments if I need to. Not because I’m discounting the work… but because I’m honoring the connection.
Because here’s what most people don’t talk about:
The conversation doesn’t end when the painting is sold.
It begins.
They hang it on their wall, and every day it speaks to them in a way only they understand.
And somewhere in that exchange… I’m still there too.
Quietly.
Not in a possessive way. In a connected way.
A silent conversation that keeps unfolding between the artist, the piece, and the person who was meant to have it.
That’s worth more to me than a quick $5,000.
Every single time.
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