Costly, Not Expensive

Costly, Not Expensive: What Hermès Taught Me About Pricing Art

Every so often, someone stands in front of one of my paintings at the gallery, looks at the price, and says, "That's expensive."

I never take it personally. But I do disagree. My work isn't expensive. It's costly. And the difference between those two words is the most useful thing I can teach anyone who is thinking about buying art.

Costly vs. expensive

Expensive means the price is higher than the value. You pay for a name, a markup, or a moment, and what you get doesn't hold up.

Costly means the price reflects what actually went into it: the materials, the hours, the skill, the care. You pay more up front because more was invested, and that investment comes back to you over time.

Think of a pair of shoes. A trendy pair with a big logo can be expensive and fall apart in a season. A handmade pair from a skilled cobbler is costly, and it can be resoled and worn for years. Same money, maybe. Very different value.

What Hermès understands

Few companies make this case better than Hermès. The French house has been crafting by hand since 1837, and its leaders choose their words carefully.

Axel Dumas, Hermès' chief executive, put it plainly in an interview with The Peak: "An Hermès product is costly because we invest in quality materials." He went on to explain that the pieces are hand-sewn in France for up to 15 or 16 hours, and that pricing is built on those factors. Not on hype. On the work.

His cousin, artistic director Pierre-Alexis Dumas, describes the family's craft as an inherited tradition paired with a drive for excellence, and, in his words to The Business of Fashion, "something a little bit obsessive and mad about detail."

I read that and smiled. Because that's exactly how I feel standing in front of a large canvas, deciding whether each color is right.

Legacy pieces, not seasonal art

Here's where art and luxury goods part ways. Even the finest handbag or the best-made pair of shoes has a life span. It gets carried, worn, scuffed. Every season brings a new one, and the old one slowly loses its place.

An original painting works the other way. It doesn't wear out. It hangs on your wall and shows up for you every single day. It becomes part of your mornings, your family dinners, the backdrop of your kids growing up, the lobby your team walks through every day. Its emotional value doesn't fade with use. It compounds.

That's why I don't paint seasonal art. I don't chase trends or this year's color. I paint legacy pieces: work meant to stay with you, move with you, and one day be passed on.

And you don't have to be a hedge fund investor to own one. Original art isn't only for museums and billionaires. If a painting moves you and changes the energy of a room every time you walk in, that's the return that matters most.

Where the cost goes in my work

I'm not comparing my paintings to a Birkin. But the principle is the same. When you buy one of my pieces, here's what the price is made of:

• Materials built to last. Professional-grade fluid acrylics, custom-built gallery-wrapped canvas, your art lives for decades.
• Time and skill. Years of practice behind every composition, and many hours in each large-format work.
• A real business behind it. A gallery lease, insurance, a van for delivery, and the systems that make sure your piece is tracked, documented, and certified.
• White glove service. Consultation, curation, delivery, and installation. I measure, I hang, and I stay until it's right.

None of that is markup. All of it is investment.

The real expensive mistake

Here's the irony. The thing that usually ends up expensive isn't the costly choice. It's the cheap one.

I've seen it many times. A business fills its lobby with mass-produced prints to save money. Within a couple of years they've faded, they look like every other office, and they say nothing about the company. So the company buys again. A family picks a piece that's the wrong scale for the wall, or the wrong mood for the room, and it ends up in a closet. So they buy again.

Paying twice is the expensive mistake. Paying once, for the right piece, made to last, and placed with care, is costly. And costly is a bargain over time.

This isn't about one kind of artist versus another. Plenty of wonderful artists offer beautiful work at lower prices, and that may be exactly right for you. It's about knowing what you're paying for, so the price you see matches the value you get.

Invest once

So the next time you look at a price tag on a piece of art, ask a different question. Not "Is this expensive?" but "What went into this, and will it still move me in twenty years?"

If the answer is yes, it's not expensive. It's costly. And that's exactly what you want.

Come see the work in person at my gallery at 38 Spring Street in Princeton, open Saturdays and weekdays by appointment. Whether it's for your home or your office, I'll help you find your legacy piece, the one you only have to buy once.