Is purchasing paintings truly challenging? The buyer's perspective.

Do I want to buy a painting?

The buyer's perspective.

What Does It Feel Like to Buy a Painting?

I didn’t come to the art festival planning to buy anything.

I was just walking. Looking.

Passing time.

Then something stopped me.

It wasn’t the artist speaking.
It wasn’t a sign or a price.

Suddenly, my inner voice started to resonate.

It was a painting that felt strangely familiar.

I stood there longer than I expected. I stepped closer. I stepped back. I pictured where the painting would go in my house, even though I didn't mean to.

The artist didn’t rush me.
That mattered more than I realized.

I hate being sold to.
I don’t mind being understood.

When artists talk too much, it breaks the moment. Suddenly I’m not feeling—I’m evaluating. And evaluation kills emotion.

How the process of making decisions unfolds.

At some point, I asked about the price.

This wasn't a lack of interest but rather a reflection of my engagement.

The artist told me the price calmly. No justification. No apology.

That confidence made me trust the work even more.

But I didn’t buy it that day.

Buying art is not a transaction.

I thought about it. I slept on it.
And the next morning, I knew exactly which painting I wanted.

Purchasing art is not a transaction.
It’s permission—to want something deeply and take it home.

The artists who understand this don’t chase buyers.

They wait—openly.

And when I’m ready, I come back.