I had a lot of experience with artists. There were times when I didn’t understand, struggled, and proved my point.The problem was more in their approach. Some said they didn’t care about the quality in a painting. Who buys it, let them worry about it. Such carelessness made me scared and angry. How could it be? Don’t you want the painting to last at least a century? But my worries remained mine. I understood amateurs and professionals who lived from penny to penny. There were not a few of them, they did not complain, they just took what little they had and headed for the cashier’s office. Often were heard reproaches, why is the price of this crap? I didn’t understand it either! They took it because there was no money, and it was as if the producer was taking advantage of it.It’s always a pleasure to have a dialogue with such artists, we spoke the language of kindness. There are closeted artists who can turn over 2-3 words with you and walk off into the sunset. Some were not childishly clever, and your words were always left out. And there were those who understood everything perfectly, shared and smiled. Thanks to those, you can gain a solid experience. I love books. But people are better than books! Their way of telling, of sharing was infectious. There’s fire in their eyes, how you should and what you can. Your words would be heard and analyzed. Such people made my day, month, year. And their imprint remains as the most important. There are also tormentors, these are those who listen, ask questions, but in the end are afraid of your advice. In part this is both funny and sad, but that’s life. Anyway, now, I look at it all with a smile. After all, it’s not a global problem of humanity. It’s just that since our time, there are far fewer paintings surviving. But maybe this is for the best.