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You have probably had that experience in a restaurant when your dinner is placed in front of you and as you gaze forlornly at the little mounds of food artfully arranged on a vast sea of white, you mutter to yourself, “48 dollars for that?”

I’ve done this, but only when I forget about all the time and expense that went into producing those delicate potions of protein before me. If I limit my assessment based on the quality and quantity of what lies on my plate, then I can’t help but feel disappointed (and maybe resentful) at the audacity of $48 when what I’m looking at couldn’t have cost more than $9.

The thing is, that dinner cost way more than $9 to make and bring to my table. What many of us forget to do is to think about all the time and expense that goes into producing and delivering various goods and services. Some of these costs are obvious, such as the wait staff and cooks in a restaurant, as well as the table linens and dishes that need purchasing and cleaning. But what about the costs that we don’t see, such as equipment repairs, bookkeeping services, rent, and insurance? I feel that it behooves us all to keep these costs, including the required hours of labor, in our imaginations when we assess the worth of what we are purchasing.

Dwelling on this topic is not new for me. When I was an elementary school teacher, I encountered parents and even administrators who had no clue about all the work involved in educating students, even leading some to claim we were simply overpaid baby sitters. It was only after spending time in our classrooms did they begin to realize the time, effort and expense involved to teaching every day. The planning and research, the collecting and maintaining of materials, the organizing of learning centers, the assessment and documentation of students’ progress, the various staff and parent meetings, and endless other duties. Nights, weekends and summers were spent on meeting the increasing needs of my students. And, all unpaid.

Now that I’m focused on creating art and having to deal with pricing that which I create, I am returning to this topic. I have artist friends who report that people have asked them why a painting cost so much, and how much time it took to make it. I love the response one friend gave to the last question: “It cost me a lifetime.”

Indeed. When we paint, we bring the totality of our life experience. Not only our years of training and practice, but also our joys and heartbreaks, our visions and our dreams. And those are just the immeasurable expenses. There are also the costs of materials. Quality paint, brushes and canvases are not cheap. A slender bottle of Golden Quinacridone Magenta can be $60, and a good canvas over $30. We artists get very adept at hunting for bargains, looking for sales, and trotting down to Michael’s with our 50% off coupons.

And there’s more to producing art for sale than paint and brushes. There’s all that’s involved in having a studio, including rent, lights, heat and storage. There are other materials to consider, such as palette knives, pastels, and pencils. And there are the rags, soap, and paper towels. I could go on.

What many folks don’t realize are the costs involved after a painting is finished. There is varnishing and installing hardware, and for some, framing. And high-resolution photos are required, so we need a camera, tripod and all that’s involved in photo editing and sharing. We need a computer, printer, website, and the ability to market our work. This all takes lot of money and a lot of time.

And this week I have been immersed in another requirement of the art business: shipping my paintings. Now, to be clear, it’s an honor to have clients and galleries want my work. And although my clients pay for shipping, artists tend to bear the costs of sending their work to galleries. I’m okay with this. I apply the same criteria to gallerists as I do to other occupations. They have a lot of costs, some hidden, with no guarantee of profit. I’m a big supporter of all they do, and happily agree to them keeping half of all the money they make from selling my paintings. They earn it.

So, what’s involved in this shipping process? First, you need all the required materials. This means cardboard boxes of various sizes (not cheap), a roll of bubble wrap as big as a St. Bernard, archival quality glassine paper to protect the paintings from the bubble wrap, 2.3 miles of postal tape, cardboard sheets and corner protectors, and, I’ve discovered, a handy bottle of cabernet.

I’ve never been good with packaging and sticky stuff. Cereal boxes get shredded and strips of tape always end up in my hair. I suspect that today I left DNA evidence in my latest shipment of paintings …. long blonde hairs embedded in postal tape, a drop of blood on the bubble wrap, and more than just a few tears.

It being tax season, I recently met with my trusty accountant who asked me to estimate the “cost of goods sold.” I explained how difficult it was to do this, and began to tell him all that’s involved in producing a work of art. As his eyes began to glaze he stopped me and assured me that what I had written was fine and that it was fortunate that I painted for pleasure, not profit.

So, although no one has asked me why my painting prices are so high, it’s bound to happen now that I’m raising them. And if this does happen, I hope I can just smile and resist handing them the list of all the costs that went into the painting that is selling for a mere $950, when the actual cost is closer to $2,000… and, a lifetime.