The art of pricing your work.
” I want that one.” I am unpacking my paintings from my case and setting up my stall and I didn’t see the man pointing at the paintings on the floor at my feet.
“That one, how much is it?” he points more determinedly at the paintings. How fast can the brain work under pressure? I need to assess this person’s keeness to buy with his presumed ability to purchase against my eagerness to sell and my desire to hold out for a good price. I need to also listen to the voices of my family and friends who ask, on a daily basis, whether I have sold anything yet and imagine myself going back home saying ‘I nearly sold a painting today.
I look up at the man and smile and decide to look as though I have not understood which painting he is referring to so as to give myself more time (my brain doesn’t work as quick as it used to). I can see that he is pointing to one of the smallest paintings in my collection and he appears to be in a hurry. Infact, he appears to be in a big hurry looking furtively over his shoulder and shuffling from foot to foot. My brain is telling me that he isn’t a big art collector or a gallery representative who is going to hurry back to his boss declaring he has found the next Picasso selling paintings from a dome in the high street. My brain is telling me that this man looks like he is on the run or hiding from some higher authority – possibly a girlfriend or wife.
I pick up the painting and admire it at a distance as if it was a priceless gem. I want this man to realise the work, the effort, the skill and the thought that went into the conception of this piece. I want this man to know that whatever price is placed on the piece, it will not be enough. How can you place a price on a labour of love? How can you value such skill and creativity?
“£20” I say.
“Will you take £15?” he says holding out a fist full of one pound coins.
“Okay” I say, making a too eager looking grab for the money.
“Have you been robbing the meter?” I say jovially, regretting it as the words leave my lips because the man doesn’t smile and he looks more nervous than ever.
“Have you got a bag?” he says.
“No.” but I can wrap it in some brown paper I say confident that I can’t lose the sale now. He takes the parcel and runs – literally – up the road.
The news of the sale is spread far and wide. I tell my wife who tells her mother and soon the whole town knows. This will be the start of something big. Everyone will want my paintings -it is proven that they are a wanted commodity. I am an artist who sells his work.
No other sales today but I am inspired to go home and produce another masterpiece.
