THE TRUTH: KILLING THE FLICKER, STARVING THE WORM

The Flicker and The Worm

The reason most artists can’t price their work isn’t because they’re bad at math.

It’s because, from the moment they started creating, they’ve been taught — directly and indirectly — that their work, their story, and their voice are worth less than someone else’s.

That’s not insecurity. That’s conditioning.

The Flicker

I know the flicker well.

It’s that split-second hesitation right before you say your price out loud. The tiny, quiet thought — Maybe I should lower it so they don’t walk away.

I’ve felt it at art fairs, in galleries, even in conversations with collectors who could have written the check without blinking.

The flicker isn’t random. It’s a reflex — trained into you by years of messages that you should be “grateful to be included,” that art is about passion, not money, that the real reward is “exposure.”

The Worm

If the flicker is the spark, the worm is what burrows in and stays.

The worm is the doubt that whispers You’re asking too much before anyone else even opens their mouth. It’s the self-questioning that shows up uninvited, even when you’ve done the work, even when you know your value.

I remember the first time I realized I had a worm. I’d just finished a large piece — one of my best at the time — and a potential buyer asked the price. I told them. They flinched. I instantly backpedaled. I named a lower number without them even asking.

They smiled, pulled out the cash, and I stood there holding the money, feeling small. I’d made the sale, but the worm had eaten my confidence alive.

The System That Feeds It

And here’s the truth no one says out loud: the art world benefits from keeping that worm alive.

• Galleries that take 50% but tell you to be “patient.”

• Art nonprofits that want your free labor “for the community” while paying themselves salaries.

• Collectors who “love” your work but ask for a discount because they’re “giving you a chance.”

And if you’re a woman, if you’re Black or a person of color, if you didn’t come from money or the “right” program? The worm gets planted earlier and fed more often

👉 An artist with a well-fed worm will:• Take the lowball offer just to make the sale.• Work for free in exchange for exposure.• Stay quiet when their value is dismissed.

What Changed For Me

The turning point didn’t come from a big win. It came from a quiet moment when I was tired — tired of explaining my worth over and over.

I sat down, pulled out a calculator, and figured out exactly what my work was worth per square inch. That number wasn’t emotional. It wasn’t up for debate. It was math.

And once I had it, something shifted.

The next time someone asked my price, I didn’t flinch. I didn’t explain. I didn’t drop it. I said it, and I stood in it. And here’s the part no one talks about — the right buyers respected it. The wrong ones walked away, and I was fine with that.

Killing the Flicker, Starving the Worm

When you know your number, the flicker has nowhere to land. The worm has nothing to feed on.

You stop second-guessing yourself mid-sentence.You stop negotiating with yourself before the buyer even opens their mouth.You stop wondering if you’re “worth it.”

And you start focusing on what actually matters — making the work, telling the story, connecting with the right buyers.

The Truth You Need to Carry Forward

Your art didn’t exist before you made it. You birthed it from nothing — your time, your skill, your materials, your life. That is worth money.

The system will never hand you permission to own that truth. You have to take it.

And once you do, something happens. There’s a line you cross where you stop apologizing, stop negotiating, stop explaining. You’ll know you’ve reached it when you feel yourself thinking — I’ve had enough.

When you’ve seen the truth for what it is, there comes a moment when you’ve simply had enough — and that’s where we go next.

👉 The next post is already in motion — a straight-up breakdown you don’t want to miss. Drop your email and I’ll alert you the second it’s live.

Until next time, stay real. – Vivia