I needed a couple credits in college to graduate a thousand years ago. Being a pragmatist even then, I didn’t want to exert myself any more than necessary to get them. So I took a two-credit art course rather than the standard three-credit offering.
What I remember these fifty plus years later was the professor’s pronouncement that one should be willing to spend as much for art on the walls as for furniture on the floor. I, who lived with my mother in a one-bedroom apartment near the university campus, that we were slowly furnishing, couldn’t imagine having that kind of money.
Fast forward to today. I sit in our living room to read most nights and enjoy the art we’ve collected over the years. Yes, we have pieces that cost more than our couch or our new cooktop. Even more than a week’s vacation.
And while I feel fortunate to have works by Howard Terpning, G. Harvey, and James Bama (all artists of the Old West), I still don’t agree with that university professor. It isn’t the amount of money one spends; it’s the pleasure of having whatever type of art warms your soul. In my book, a three dollar poster in a standard frame that brings back memories means as much as a three thousand dollar artist’s proof.
Perhaps the same can be said for a couch or cocktail table too.