Not for the smell. I light one anyway, the cheap ones from the supermarket, and it sits on the corner of the palette table where the wax drips onto the wood. There are probably forty layers of it under there by now, grey and cream and one terrible pink from a gift.

Why I do it: a candle is the only light in the studio I don't have to think about. North window is my real light, I work by it, I've built everything around it. But in January here it goes flat by three and if I put on the overheads I can feel the painting change character under me. So the candle. Small warm thing, doesn't matter, keeps me in the chair for one more hour when the daylight has already abandoned me.

My daughter thinks it's for atmosphere. It's not. It's because I used to stop at four and I don't want to stop at four anymore.

I don't think there's a lesson in it. I just wanted to say the thing out loud because I caught myself buying three of them at once yesterday like a woman with a system.