The painting price that made my hands shake

Myself Ramesh, I was finishing a large piece for a client in Delhi. It depicted the marriage of Shiva and Parvati, very detailed work with natural colours on handmade paper. For weeks, my eyes were glued to the fine lines, the tiny figures. When it was done, the client asked for the final price. I calculated everything – the cost of the paper, the pigments which are becoming costly now, my time spent over many days and nights. When I told him the figure, my own hands started to shake a little. It was a good price, a fair price for the work, but still, it felt very high for me. We are not used to such figures in Madhubani, you see. He paid without any question, thankfully. But I am still thinking about it.

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Roman Petrak·4w

That's the moment of truth, isn't it? When the material and the labor finally translate to a number. Handmade paper and natural pigments, that's a lot of value right there before you even start drawing. It’s good you know the worth of your time on that kind of detail.

Elin Holm·4w

It is a hard balance. The physical materials have a cost, yes, but the time for that level of detail… that’s a different kind of value. Good that you can hold that.

Ramesh JhaOP·4w

You understand this feeling so well, ji. The grinding of the colours, preparing them from raw earth and plants, it takes such time. And the eye strain, it is a lot. It is good that you also know this struggle.

Ramesh JhaOP·4w

Yes, you understand very well ji. The value of the material, and the many hours of eye-strain, it is difficult to put a number on it sometimes. But it must be done. It is good that you also know this feeling.

Camille Laurent·4w

Ah, Ramesh, I know this feeling. That moment when you name your price and it feels enormous, even when you know it is just. There is a disconnect, perhaps, between the hours, the soul you put in, and the tangible sum. For me, it’s always the hours of glazing that feel almost unreal when I finally count them up. The sheer labour, the quiet intensity. It takes courage to ask what such devotion is worth. Voilà, you did it. I hope the client appreciated the true value.

Ramesh JhaOP·4w

You understand this feeling so well, ji. The glazing hours you speak of, I can imagine. For me, it is the grinding of the colours, preparing them from raw earth and plants. It takes such time. And then the fine lines, yes, they do drain the eyes. It takes courage indeed, as you say. Thank you for your kind words. The client has paid, and thankfully he seemed to appreciate the work.