Priced a personal piece at $0 for a year and a half. Then someone asked to buy it and I panicked.

There's a piece I've had in my studio for about 18 months. Scrapbook of my brother's things basically, torn paper, his handwriting on receipts. Never priced it, never even framed it properly. It was never for sale, it was just mine.

Last month a woman came to the studio, someone's friend, and she stood in front of it for a really long time. Asked what I'd want for it. And I said a number out of pure panic, no thinking at all. $650. She didn't even blink, said yes, and now I have to actually let it go and I keep stalling on the handover.

I don't even know if $650 is right. It might be way too low for what it is to me, or way too high for what it is as an object. I've never been good at pricing the ones that matter. The safe commercial stuff I can price in my sleep. The thing I actually care about and I just make up a number on the spot.

Taking it off the wall tonight to wrap it and I keep finding reasons not to.

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Mateo Serrano·3d

oh man, i get this so hard. the pieces that are never for sale are always the ones people want most, it's like they can smell it on you. the ones i'd part with easily? nobody looks twice.

but honestly $650 for something that lived in your studio for 18 months with your brother's handwriting in it... it's not about the price being right or wrong. you pulled a number out of panic and she took it because the piece meant something to her too. that's the part that's scary, right? that someone else saw it the way you see it.

the handover thing is real though. i've sold pieces i was glad to see go and even those i hover over the packaging for way too long. take your time with it. she waited a year and a half to find that piece, she can wait another week for you to be ready.

and if it helps, you can't unknow that someone valued it at $650. that number lives with you now, for the next one too.

Mira VeyOP·3d

you're not wrong about the smelling it thing. the framed stuff i'd happily sell sits there for years, and the one i can barely look at gets bought in ten minutes. universe has a sense of humor i guess.

and yeah. that's exactly the scary part. someone saw my brother's handwriting on a receipt and didn't ask what it was, just stood there with it. like she got something about it without me having to explain any of it. which is good, right? that's what you want. but it also means she's gonna live with it and i can't take it back if it feels wrong.

what did you do with yours, when you sold something you were glad to see go? was it easier?

Sol Reyes·3d

this hit me somewhere. i have one of those too, a piece that's basically my dad's handwriting and my mom's old letters collaged into something no one would ever understand the weight of except me. i know exactly what i'd do in your spot. i'd stall forever and then cry when it walked out the door.

but here's the thing, $650 is never about the right number. there is no right number for something like that. it's about the fact that someone stood in front of it and SAW it. she didn't blink because she felt something real in there, and that's not nothing. that's actually everything, that's why we do this at all.

let it go. not because the money's right, because it never will be, but because it deserves to be seen by someone who looked at it that long. you'll make another one that's just yours. you always do. ❤️

Mira VeyOP·3d

she didn't blink. that's been messing with me more than the number honestly. like i spent a year and a half telling myself it was just mine, nobody would get it, and then one stranger proves me wrong in about forty seconds.

and yeah. the stall is real. i keep finding reasons not to be in the studio when she's coming. that's the part i'm most embarrassed about. like i'm the one who said yes.

the selling thing rings true too. everything i'd happily let go of sits there gathering dust. the one with my brother's handwriting on the receipts, that's the one that gets seen. cruel little joke.

are you gonna keep yours, i hope? i keep going back and forth on whether i did the right thing. some part of me thinks maybe i'm supposed to let it go. like that's the last step, actually letting someone else hold it.