Charged 180 for something I'd have done for free, and now I can't tell which one was the mistake

A woman messaged in february about a commission. wanted her mother's house painted, the one the family sold last spring. she sent 40 photos and said "I don't know what I want, just not sad."

I quoted 180. gesso and two sheets of stonehenge plus the wash medium ran me 61, and I spent parts of nine evenings on it. so call it 13 an hour. I drove past the house twice to look at it because the photos flattened the porch light and I wanted to get that wrong on purpose, if that makes sense.

She cried when I dropped it off, wouldn't let go of my hand for a while. That was worth something and I have no idea how to put it in a column.

Here's the part that's actually bothering me. I told myself I priced it low because she was sending me her grief and I don't do that math. But I also priced it low because I was scared that if I said 600 she'd go quiet and I'd have to sit with having asked for it. Those aren't the same thing and I know which one it was.

So I'm raising the next one to 450 and I feel sick about it already. Not because I don't think it's worth 450. Because I do, and that's the part I can't get used to.

6comments

Add your reply to this discussion…

6 comments

Niall Doherty·2w

The porch light line is the one that got me. You went back twice to get a thing wrong on purpose, and then charged her like it was a job. That's the whole thing in a nutshell, isn't it.

I do linocuts, hares mostly, and I've had the same argument with myself. Quoted a fella 90 once for a print of his father's boat, spent a fortnight carving it, and by the end I'd have paid him to take it off me. But here's the bit I'd say to you: the 180 wasn't the mistake and neither was doing it for the love of it. The mistake is thinking those two things have to be the same number. If you'd charged her nothing she'd have felt she owed you something forever, and that's a worse debt than money. 180 was you letting her pay her way out of it. She cried and held onto your hand, sure, but she also got to walk away square with you. That's a kindness too.

Next time put a real price on the drive-bys though. Not for her, for you. You'll resent it otherwise and then the good ones get harder to say yes to.

Inês Costa·2w

The two numbers thing is where I'd push back a little. I don't think they're separate. I think the price is just the number you can say out loud, and the other one you can't, and the trouble starts when you try to make one carry the weight of both.

I print with sun and seawater, and the seawater is free, so people assume the prints should be. But I still have to eat, and the thing that took me years to accept is that charging for it does not subtract anything from loving it. The 180 didn't make you a mercenary. It just kept the lights on so you could do the next one.

What you can't invoice her is the twice past the house. That part stays yours. Maybe that's the honest division, not two numbers, but one number and one thing you keep.

Mira VeyOP·2w

the seawater thing is what got me. free material doesn't mean free. someone still stood there at the right tide.

and yeah, i think you're right that it's one number not two. i've been treating 180 like a confession when it's just a price. the porch light and the 180 were the same nine evenings. i just picked which one to say out loud.

still working on the second part though. "kept the lights on so you could do the next one" assumes there's a next one, and i'm not always sure i want there to be. maybe that's the actual thing i'm circling.

Mira VeyOP·2w

a fortnight carving a boat you knew you'd undercharged for. yeah. that's the shape of it exactly.

the two numbers thing is what I keep circling. 180 is what the materials and the evenings were worth on paper. what she actually paid for was me standing in front of that porch light knowing I had to get it slightly wrong, and there's no line on an invoice for that. I think I charged her for the wrong thing and she got the right one anyway.

What did you end up doing with the boat? Did he ever see what it cost you, or did you keep that part to yourself.

Inês Costa·2w

The part about driving past the house twice, wanting to get the porch light wrong on purpose, that stayed with me. That is not the labour you can put in a quote, and it is also the reason the painting worked.

I would not call either one the mistake. The 180 was maybe the mistake of pricing, but not of the work. I do the same thing, I undercharge and then I sit with a strange feeling that is not quite regret, because the making was real and the money was small. Nine evenings and a hand held at the end. Both true at once.

The thing I have learned slowly, and I am still not good at it: cost is what the paper and the medium cost, and the price is a different conversation entirely. If I only charge for the material I am telling myself the evenings were a hobby. They were not.

Mira VeyOP·2w

"not quite regret" is the exact thing. It's not regret, it's more like a bruise you keep pressing.

The porch light thing, I don't know how to explain it right. In the photos it was just this bright blob. Standing across the street at dusk I could see it was actually weak, kind of dying, and the house was darker than she remembered it. So I painted the light doing almost nothing. She didn't say anything about it. But that's the part I'd have gotten wrong from the couch.

61 in materials and nine evenings I'd have spent anyway. The 180 is the part I keep turning over.