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Sold a piece last month. 4 feet tall, welded steel plate, took me about 90 hours counting design and grinding and the finish. I charged $3,800. Buyer was happy. I should be happy. But I broke it down after. Material was $620 in steel and welding gas. Gallery takes 40%. So I cleared about $1,660 for those 90 hours. Thats $18.44 an hour before taxes. I know guys who frame houses for $35 an hour cash. My nephew does HVAC and clears six figures. I'm not saying I want to do HVAC. But I've been at this 30 years and I still cant figure out how to charge what the work is actually worth without pricing myself out of the market. The gallery tells me $3,800 is already pushing it for a sculptor nobody's heard of outside the region. I look at that hourly rate and it feels like I'm working backwards.

Just finished the fabrication on a welded steel base for a bronze sculpture that's over seven feet tall. It's about 1500 pounds of mild steel, mostly 4-inch square tube. Had to build a custom jig to get the angles right. The welding is all done, now it's just grinding and prepping for patina. Feels good to get this beast off the floor. It fought me the whole way.

Been meaning to say this for a while. If you're welding galvanized steel in your studio without proper ventilation, stop. The zinc oxide fumes will give you something called metal fume fever. Feels like the worst flu of your life for about 24 hours. I got it once in my twenties working on a stair railing in a garage with the door half open. Thought I was dying. Called my father thinking it was a heart attack. He told me to drink milk and go to sleep. Actually worked, but I wouldn't recommend the experience. Wear a respirator. Not a dust mask. A proper respirator with the right cartridges. Or grind the galvanization off the weld area first. Takes an extra ten minutes and saves you a day of shaking on the bathroom floor. That's all. Just something nobody warned me about and I keep seeing people skip.

A gallery reached out last year about a piece I had in a group show. Wanted to know my price for a commission in that range. I said $400. They said great, we'll list it at $1800. That's when it hit me. I wasn't pricing my work, I was pricing my materials and time like I was still doing fabrication for other people. I'd welded it myself, designed it, sandblasted it, patinated it, figured out the base so it wouldn't tip in wind. Three weeks start to finish. $400. I told my daughter about it and she just stared at me. She said dad you're not a contractor. She was right. I raised my studio rate after that but I still catch myself lowballing. There's a voice in my head that says who's going to pay that for something you made. Thirty years in and it's still there.

I've been waking up at 6 for the past week just to paint the same corner of my kitchen counter. The lime slice from last night, the steel tumbler from morning chai, the way the sun hits the grout between the tiles. It lasts maybe forty minutes and then it's gone, and I know it's ridiculous because I could just take a photo and paint it later. But it's not the same. There's something about catching it while it's happening, while the light is actually moving across the surface. I think this is my current obsession, I can only paint things in the moment they exist. If I photograph them and come back later, the feeling is gone. The urgency is gone. And the painting comes out flat. Anyone else have a weird time-of-day thing they can't let go of? Or am I the only one waking up unreasonably early for a lime slice and a steel glass 🙂

Been using the same mix of ferric nitrate and water for twenty years. I know exactly how it will take on a given piece of steel, how the humidity matters, how clean the surface is, whether I've overheated the metal before applying it. The bottle from the supply house gives you a predictable brown that looks like nothing I've ever seen on actual weather-worn steel. Last week I watched a younger guy in the shared shop spray on a commercial patina from a pump bottle and wait for it to look like something. That's not how it works. You build it in layers, you react to what the metal does, you stop when it's right, sometimes ten minutes in, sometimes three days. I'm not saying everyone should mix their own. I'm saying the shortcuts don't teach you what's happening.

I sold a piece last year through a gallery in Berlin. Big installation, months of work, shipping a truckload of steel and glass across two borders. The collector paid 18,000 euros. By the time the gallery took their 50 percent, the trucking company charged me for the special crating I couldn't do myself, the assistant I hired for the install, and the hotel I stayed in because the loading dock appointment was at 7am and I don't know anyone in Berlin who'd let me sleep on their floor at 56, I looked at the bank transfer and it was 3,400 euros. The framer who built the crate made more than I did. I know because I asked him what he charged. He told me. Nice guy. He earned it. I'm not telling this as a sob story. I agreed to the terms. I just keep thinking about how the whole system is built so that the people who touch the work for ten minutes make more than the person who spent four months making it exist. And we all nod and say that's how it works. But it's funny, no. You spend your whole career getting to a number like 18,000 and then you do the math and realise you'd have been better off framing other people's pictures.

There's this little stall near Majestic, been there for maybe thirty years, the kind where the guy remembers your order even if you haven't shown up in six months. I've been sketching it off and on for the past year because the light there in the late afternoon is just ridiculous. The blue tarpaulin, the steel glasses glinting, the way the steam catches the sun. Anyway, the metro pillar markers have appeared. Orange paint on the footpath. Surveyors with their tripods. The stall itself is still there but you can see it coming, the road widening, the barricades, the slow disappearance. I painted it again yesterday and found myself being too careful with every line. Like if I got it right enough I could keep it there by sheer effort. That's the thing with painting old Bangalore, na? You're not just capturing something, you're also saying goodbye to it in advance. And you do it anyway because what else is there to do.

Early in my career a gallery took my work on consignment, then called two weeks later asking if I could "soften" a piece. Wanted me to grind down the welds on a steel figure I'd spent three weeks on. I said no. They dropped me. Ever had a gallery ask you to change something that would've ruined it? Did you do it or walk?

Had a piece ready for welding last month, a big steel armature that needed a structural weld I couldn't do in my own shop. Got a quote from a foundry I've used before for $600. Dropped it off. Picked it up and the invoice was $1,200. Foreman said the job took longer than expected because of the wall thickness and they had to re-jig the setup. No call to warn me, no authorization. Just the work done and the new price. I paid it because the piece was already in my truck and the client deadline was two weeks out. But I sat in the parking lot for five minutes first. That's the part I keep thinking about. Not whether they were right or wrong. Just that I sat there and decided to eat it because restarting somewhere else would have cost me more than the difference. Still don't know if that was smart or weak. Probably both.

I did the math on a commission last week. Big public piece, welded steel, seven months from first sketch to install. After materials, shop rent, the kid I hired to help with the welding, and the cut the fabricator took for the base plates I don't have the equipment to make myself, I came out to $7.50 an hour. I remember when I started out I'd have been thrilled with that. Thrilled. Now I look at it and think what the hell am I doing. The worst part is the client was happy. Paid on time, no complaints. So the price felt fair to them. It's me who underpriced it, because I still think like the guy who's grateful anyone wants the work at all. My wife used to say I had no idea what my own time was worth and she was right. Three years since she passed and I still hear her saying it. Anyone else do the math on a finished job and feel like a damn fool?

Middle of a hot afternoon, helmet up, grinding down a seam on a steel piece I'd been fitting for two days. Guy walks into the shop, no knock, just wanders in from the alley. Stands there watching. I figure he's lost or curious, whatever. I keep working. Ten minutes. He watches me run a bead, watches me chip slag, watches me check the fit. Then he says "you know they have machines that do that now. Robots. Could just program it." I said "yeah, and you could just keep walking." He stood there another minute like he expected more of an answer. Then he left. I don't know what gets into people. They see someone doing something with their hands and the first impulse is to tell you why you don't have to. As if the point was efficiency. As if I'm trying to save labor. I'm not trying to save labor. I'm trying to make the thing.

Had a guy walk through the studio two years ago, spent 45 minutes looking at a welded steel piece, said he didn't like it and left. Eight months later he emails me asking if it's still available. I tell him it is. He buys it sight unseen, pays for shipping to Chicago, doesn't even ask for photos. I asked him later what changed. He said he kept thinking about it. Couldn't get it out of his head. That stuck with me more than any compliment ever did. A piece that bothers you in the right way is worth more than one everybody nods at. I don't think about likes anymore. I think about whether the thing sits in someone's mind like a splinter.

Back in 2009 I had a show in a small gallery in Brno that no longer exists. The gallery put up a basic website with installation shots. When the gallery closed, the domain died but the PDF of that exhibition somehow stayed live on some forgotten server subfolder. Last year a curator from Oslo emailed me. Said she found that PDF through a deep Google search while researching a specific material I used. She'd been looking for anyone working with industrial felt and rusted steel in that particular way. The PDF was the only document online that showed it. She booked a studio visit. I got two museum shows out of it. Norway, of all places. Meanwhile I'd been stressing about Instagram, trying to shoot better video, wondering if the algorithm hated me. And the thing that worked was a dead link from 15 years ago that I didn't even know existed. I don't know what the lesson is. Leave things online and don't delete them, I suppose. The internet forgets slower than we think. Or maybe it's that the useful person is always looking in the wrong place and you can't predict where they'll dig.

Finished a welded steel piece for a lawyer's office lobby. Took longer than I estimated because he wanted changes mid-stream. Nothing crazy, but three rounds of "can you tweak the angle on that armature" adds up. Charged $3,800. That's what I quoted. When I added up the actual hours including consultation, drafting, material sourcing, the revisions, the install, and the drive back and forth to his building, it came to about 890 hours of my time. $4.27 an hour. I know the mistake was my estimate. I know I should have written the contract tighter. I know I'm the one who agreed to the changes without adjusting the price. All of that is on me. But I'm 61 years old and I've been doing this for thirty years and I still get it wrong on the math side. You'd think that would get easier. It doesn't. The work part gets easier. The money part stays the same trap it always was. What do you actually do when the numbers tell you your skill is worth less than minimum wage?

I'm not good at pricing what my time is worth and I know it. Married couple wanted a limestone piece for their garden. Simple shape, clean lines, nothing fussy. I quoted $6,000 thinking that was plenty. 80 hours later I'm doing the math. Block of limestone was $1,100. Delivery of the block was $300 because it had to come on a flatbed. The chisels I wore down and replaced, maybe $150. Then the base I fabricated to mount it, another $200 in steel. That's $1,750 in costs. Leaves me $4,250. Divided by 80 hours, that's $53 an hour before taxes. Not terrible for a sculptor maybe but I'm not a young man and my body feels those hours now. The thing is they were happy. They paid without blinking. So I left money on the table and they'd have given me more. That's on me. I don't know how to fix this. I've been doing this long enough I should know what I'm worth. But I still anchor low and feel guilty asking for more.

I got a commission last year for a new piece at a decent European museum. 12k seemed like real money when I signed. Then I priced the steel, the timber, the electronics for the sound element, the rented van to haul it all, the two assistants I had to pay properly because I'm not an exploitative prick. By the time the thing was built and installed I'd spent about seven and a half. The rest covered four months of my life. I ate it because the work was good and I wanted it to exist and I'll probably do it again. The math never works if you count your own time. You have to not count it. That's the trick. You make art because you're compelled to and you finance it however you can and you pretend the hours don't exist. But sometimes late at night you do the math anyway and it's genuinely funny how bad it is. Like actually funny. I laughed out loud when I worked it out. Younger artists ask me how to price things. I tell them charge more than feels comfortable and then double it. Then I watch them not do that and I understand completely because I also don't do that.

Just finished calculating the final tally for that massive piece made from old factory parts I showed a few months back. The raw materials were almost nothing, of course. But then there was the transport from the old Skoda factory site, the specialized welding for hours by that guy Petr who charges by the minute, the custom-built steel frame to hold it all... I looked at the invoice and my first thought was 'Is this a joke?' It came out to 85,000 CZK before I even thought about my own time. Nearly fainted. I ended up telling the buyer 120,000 CZK, and honestly, I still feel like I'm robbing myself.

Third time this week the slag isn't cleaning out properly on a steel weld. Means I have to grind it all back and re-do it. Wastes hours and eats into the consumables.

Been at it since five this morning. Gas torch and an angle grinder on some 3/8 plate Ive had sitting out back too long. Rust on it now. Dont care. Going to carve into it with the gouges after. There is something about the noise of a grinder hitting steel at six in the morning that clears everything out. No room for doubt when you are wearing ear pro and getting sparks in your sleeves. Coffee went cold two hours ago.