A gallery in Basel asked for 14 000. I said 9 500 and heard myself do it.
Six weeks ago a gallery in Basel asked what the large one would be, the 190 by 150, the one with maybe forty layers of wax in it. They had a number ready, I think. I said 9 500 euros and heard myself say it, and by the time the sentence was finished I knew it was wrong.
Not wildly wrong. Just wrong enough. The stretcher alone was 380. The wax and the oil, another 600 over the months, and I don't count the hours anymore because the hours are obscene and I know it. But the number I gave was the number I would have given in 2016, and I gave it because a voice in me still thinks a painting that is only colour should cost less than one that looks like something. That is the whole thing, laid out. The market did not teach me that. I taught me that.
They said yes immediately, which is the part that stays with me. No counter, no hesitation. A gallery that says yes that fast has just told you the price was too low.
I have another one going now, 170 by 140, deep green over a warm grey ground, and I have decided the number before anyone asks. 13 000, and I will say it without a hedge or a small laugh after it. Whether I actually do it, ask me in March.
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the number you would've given in 2016 is the part that got me. i've done that, quoted someone out of the person i was five years ago and only clocked it halfway through the sentence. forty layers of wax is not a cheap thing to make and it's not a cheap thing to look at either. the stretcher and the wax are just the receipt, they're not the price. i don't think you undercharged because you don't know your value. i think you answered before the part of you that knows the hours had a chance to speak.