900 Euros for a Book?

900 Euros for a Book?

You know how it is with art. It really belongs to everyone. At least that was always my modest conviction when I sent my photo books out into the world. Limited editions, yes, but not to create artificial scarcity — rather because it just felt right. Like a good conversation — it eventually comes to an end, and that's exactly what makes it valuable.

Reading time: 2 Min.

But then strange things happen. There I am, innocently scrolling through an auction site and nearly choke on my morning filter coffee: 900 euros for my photo book "Frisky"? Did you just misread that too? No, you didn't.

Of course, it flatters me somewhere when my own work is deemed 'valuable.' But let's be honest: Art should touch people, not speculate.

It should open doors rather than be elitist. Although, perhaps I should view the situation positively: Apparently, my images create something that people consider timelessly valuable. Just differently than I had imagined.

You're an investment now.

A friend tells me that with a grin. Yet all I wanted to do was make art that people could afford who truly love it. Not those who bet on rising prices.

Speaking of art and prices: You know what's most ironic? Almost all my books are signed. The signed copies always fetch higher prices at auctions, even though the unsigned ones are actually much rarer.

By the way, the fact that I even do limited editions has less to do with art market strategy than with simple logistics. My storage space costs rent. And if I pack too many books into my apartment, I'll get in trouble with the structural engineers.

Perhaps it's like everything in life: What's truly valuable is limited. Time. Love. Attention.

I still don't quite get the 900 euros thing. But maybe I don't need to under­stand it. Maybe it's enough to know that someone out there values my work. In their own, somewhat peculiar way.

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