I’ve always struggled to price my art.
When I painted, I charged $350 and felt okay with it. People seemed to understand the effort—the hours spent blending color, layering detail, and cleaning brushes long after midnight.
But when I turned to photography, something shifted.
The doubts started creeping in:
“Is this really worth hundreds of dollars?”
“It’s just a photo, right?”
“What if someone thinks I’m full of myself for charging that much?”
Here’s the thing, though:
It’s not just a photo. It’s everything I’ve ever learned about light, patience, timing, and trust—compressed into a single frame.
What most people don’t see is the years it took to learn how to recognize the moment, feel the emotion, and build the technical skill to capture it—not by accident, but on purpose.
They don’t see the missed shots, the quiet doubt, or the thousands of tiny decisions that go into each image I choose to share.
Photography isn’t easy.
It’s not cheap.
And it’s not less valuable just because it’s made with a camera instead of a brush.
So why are my prints priced the way they are?
Because they’re made with care.
Because they’re printed on archival materials meant to last decades.
Because I’ve chosen to offer limited editions—not mass production—so collectors own something truly unique.
And because I’ve spent years learning how to make images that mean something—not just to me, but to those who connect with them.
I’m not selling a piece of paper.
I’m selling vision, intention, craft.
I’m selling a story you can hang on your wall and revisit again and again.
I know not everyone will buy my work—and that’s okay.
It’s not meant for everyone. It’s meant for the people who see it, feel something, and want to make that feeling part of their everyday life.
So no, it’s not just a photo.
It’s a piece of my voice in a noisy world.
And I’ve finally stopped feeling guilty for asking what it’s worth.
P.S.
If you’re an artist or creative who struggles with this too—just know you’re not alone. Valuing your work is hard. But so is pouring your heart into something and never being paid for it.
You deserve to be compensated for what you create. Full stop.