There are a lot of questions to ask yourself before you purchase a piece of fine art -- whether it is an original or a limited edition print -- but the most important one is one that people frequently overlook:

"Do I like it?"

It's so easy to get overwhelmed by questions that do or do not matter, such as,

"What would an art critic say?"

"Is it considered good?"

"Will it rise in value?"

While these questions may matter if you are a "collector" and wish to purchase the piece to put away in the vaults for a future day when you speculate that it will be worth 100 times what you paid for it; or if you are concerned with what other people will say when they walk in your house and see it, they really get in the way when you're out to put something on your wall that you like, that makes you smile every time you walk in the room, that gives you pleasure because it touches some part of your inner being that only you know about.

If you're worried about the price and aren't sure whether it's "worth" it, then talk to the gallery owner or, if you can, the artist himself, and ask about the piece. Recognize that a fine artist is as skilled in his profession as a neurologist is in hers, and one of the reason the piece you're looking at strikes so deep within in you is because the artist made it so.

Then, after you have purchased the piece, put it in a place of honor and joy in your house where you can encounter it again and again, discovering something new every time you meet.

Sunset casts golden rays, transcending the blues and greys of Washington's Puget Sound into an orchestra of exhilirating oranges, shouting pinks, and harmonious lavendar. Could this possibly be Narnia?

Golden Sea joins a number of Steve's latest works at Steve's solo show at the Lawrence Gallery, Sheridan, OR, during July 2012.

Those of you who have read my book, Live Happily on Less, know my philosophy on spending money:

Do it wisely, do it well, and make the most of what you have. Just because you are on a budget (aren't we all?) doesn't mean that you can't enjoy the process of purchasing, both necessities and extras.

As an ostentatiously ordinary person with personal tastes in which I indulge with discernment and pleasure,  I live as intimately with our household budget as I do with the Norwegian Artist (although I am far, far more enamored of the Norwegian). 

Which is the point: While I do not indiscriminately spend -- my usual shopping experience involving cheese, canned tomatoes, and butter, sometimes more exciting items like flip flops, printer ink, and stamps -- I do save up for those completely and totally "I want this! I want this!" items, and when the jar is full I dump the coins into an envelope, transfer the funds to the bank, and buy whatever it is I've had my eye on.

Guilt free.

Generally, "I want this!" items are not ones you eat, repair the house with, stuff into bathroom cabinets, or put into the dog's bowl, which makes them difficult to justify because you don't really "need" them, but in a way you do, because they feed that happy little person inside of you who couldn't sleep for weeks before your birthday, or who skipped with joy over a pair of new, wildly outrageous shoes.

Basic brown serviceable shoes that fit right are all your feet really need. (I remember discussions along this topic with my mother when I was a child.) But they're so much less than what you want.

And is it so very bad to admit that you want something that you don't really need? We buy things we don't really need all the time, but because they're part of our everyday purchases, we don't agonize about it:

You don't really need the latte. You could have coffee at home. Better yet, water fulfills your hydration requirements.

Take out pizza? Make it yourself. Actually, whole wheat toast, a banana, and apple juice would probably fulfill the same nutritional needs. Better yet, oatmeal with raisins. It's cheaper.

That's a cute blouse; it looks good on you. But a serviceable, well-constructed t-shirt will last longer and clothe you adequately for less.

If you follow this level of extreme practicality to, well, its extreme, then life becomes dull indeed -- kind of like all math and science classes in the semester schedule and no art, no music, no drama, no history, no literature -- just a bunch of numbers and formulas. While it is undoubtedly practical and budget friendly, such economic austerity of the soul eventually takes its toll, and like the dieter who denies himself anything that smacks of a cookie,  you break down one day and binge -- on cheesecake, on cake, on ice cream, on doughnuts.

It would have been so much easier to build the cookie into the diet plan.

So go ahead -- plan for the fun things -- like fine art, which, from us -- because we know what budgets are -- you can get as originals, prints, even note cards, representing a variety of sizes and price ranges. We even set up interest-free payment plans, because we believe that art belongs in the homes of real people, not limited to art museums.

Do you want it?

Then buy it.

All of the work that you see through this site is painted by Steve Henderson of Steve Henderson Fine Art. Because we believe that real art belongs in the homes of real people with real incomes, we offer Steve's artwork, in addition to its original form, as wall art decor through various online and retail establishments.

Given what we’ve discussed in the last two articles, The Question That Never Goes Away and Another Question That Never Goes Away   – you probably have a pretty good idea of what the answer to this one will be, but let’s talk about it.

For some reason, people have the idea that if an individual does something part-time, or if he doesn't make a killing on doing it, then he's not really whatever it is that he's doing. By this definition, the volunteer firefighters in many rural communities who put their lives on the line protecting people and property aren’t really firefighters.

Or substitute teachers – what would school systems do without these people? – aren’t really teachers.

Our nuclear physicist – who works part-time because of family obligations – isn’t a real nuclear physicist.

Bit absurd, isn’t it?

But it’s understandable, since an artist doesn’t depend upon a degree, certification, title, or job description to be an artist. He can have those things, or not; and having them doesn’t ensure that he is an artist.

Artists make art.

They don’t talk about making art; they don’t emote about making art; they don’t wax eloquent about making art – people who do that, and stop there, are artistes not artists.

True artists do spend a lot of time creating – the Norwegian Artist paints, others sculpt, work with wood, brass, clay, and beyond the visual arts we have dancers, writers, actors, if I miss one please don’t yell at me, but what they have in common is that they create new things from whatever materials they have on hand, and they’re pretty serious about doing it well and consistently.

A number of these people, who have day jobs on the side, actually do work full time at being artists -- in addition to working full or part-time elsewhere. The goal of many is to drop that day job and exchange it for full time in the studio, and many of them manage this, but those who don't, or those who are in the process of getting there, are by no means not artists. It's time invested, not money made, that is a stronger determination of a person's commitment to being an artist.