A man came to the studio last week, looked at a small interior I'd been keeping for myself, the one with the morning light on the wall. He wanted it. I told him the price and he laughed, said that was too much for a painting that size, tried to bargain me down by half.

I don't do the dance. I said, you don't have to take it, the paint will still be there tomorrow.

He walked out. Came back two days later, paid the full amount without another word, and stood there looking at it for a while before he left. I think he wanted to hate me a little for making him do it, and I don't mind. He'll take better care of it because he had to fight for it.

I've spent years undervaluing my own work out of habit. Saying the number out loud and not flinching when they laugh, that's its own discipline. Maybe harder than the drawing honestly.