Value and why it’s as subjective as Marmite consumption

Ray Ban sunglasses, a Louie Vitton hand bag, a Michelin starred meal and a pair of Air Jordans. To some they would be worth every penny, to others an utter waste of money. My sister has a view that a Michelin star meal is an horrendous waste of money. For me, I would happily save, wait and pay what is essentially a mortgage payment on a meal at Alain Ducasse’s 3 Michelin star restaurant.

What we attribute value to is as personal as the way we part our hair.

Value almost transcends the concept of cost.

I have a 12 year old who thinks that the right pair of air Jordans are worth all the money he could possibly save. Since starting truffle pig art I have wrestled with the perception of value. Irrespective of any sense of business acumen or a need to maximise profits, we have an idea that art can change the world.

What price do you put on that?

If a picture hanging on your wall has the power to excite, annoy, make you sad or make you happy, what value can we put on that picture? Can you

I had a strange idea when first forming a truffle pig art, an idea that I had unfinished business with kitchens and chefs. Which is almost ludicrous considering I was stepping down from a 31 year career as a chef and you’d think I’d kinda had my fill. I think it was because I wasn’t seeing myself, being represented. I didn’t have any pictures to hang on my wall that truly depicted the life that I had come from. It wasn’t the grand oil painting masterpieces that I was seeking. It was Simply, representation of the movement of cooking the and acknowledgement of a life spent cooking. So I started, first with pencil sketches and then ink work, drawing what would become the chef plating artwork and then the brigade artwork followed.

I think that’s why art has such a massive place in our culture, even or especially at the simplest entry point; it mirrors the very lives and loves of its viewer.

I have met people who have spent more money on a night out with their friends than they would ever consider spending on any form of art.

And I completely understand that.

Sometimes it’s hard to quantify what we think of as value. It could be a nail varnish whose life span is a matter of weeks or a pair of shoes, that only last the summer. It is probably a quandary that artists will struggle with forever, but there is an idea of exclusivity that I want to smash.

To some , a sourdough loaf will always be too expensive and then there are others that think ‘cheap ‘ will always imply inferiority. We all have a favourite – money can’t buy – something; a jumper, grandads old zippo lighter or maybe a childhood ribbon. There is an old adage in fine dining restaurants “the quality is remembered long after the cost is forgotten “.

So it can transcend culture, education and wealth. It is as personal to us and our world view as it is how we vote.

Maybe through the proliferation of accessible art, we can see it, not in terms of exclusivity, but a record of who we are, who we love, what we love, what inspires us, what resonates with us and the lives we’ve led.

There is no wrong or right answer to how we perceive value.. it is simply another piece of the jigsaw that makes us who we are.