7 Reasons Artist Underprice Their Work
– And Why They’re Wrong
Pricing your work as an artist is not always easy. When trying to figure out a pricing structure, I’ve often found myself pulling from different schools of thought and blending them into something that felt right for me, made sense for my offerings, and fit the kind of work I do. Even without a single clear formula, I think the first thing to address isn’t the formulas—it’s the fallacies that lead us to undervaluing our work.
Finding the sweet spot in pricing is an ongoing process of trial and error. Right now, I want to address 7 common reasons artists undervalue their work. Undervaluing for these reasons undermines the sustainability of their practice.
1. “I couldn’t afford to pay this much for my work!”
Are you saying you’re not capable of creating quality work simply because you couldn’t justify buying it with your current finances? When you think about things like homes, cars, or designer goods—are the people who create them always able to afford them? Do you have to be able to afford something in order to create it? Is the value of what you’ve made determined by your own budget, or by what it offers the person who feels a connection to it?
Artists have always created things beyond their own means. You can make something that is precious to someone else, even if you couldn’t justify buying it yourself. The fact that you wouldn’t spend that amount on art has nothing to do with the worth of your work to someone who can and will.
2. “It was easy to do.” / “My work doesn’t take me long to make.”
Is it easy because you’re naturally gifted, or is it easy because you’ve spent a lot of time and uncompensated hours mastering your craft? Does the fact that it’s easy to you, mean it’s less valuable to someone with whom your work resonates? Are there things that come easily to others, but you nevertheless find impressive?
Often, the work that comes out fastest—or that you might dismiss as ordinary—is exactly what resonates most with people. It’s a frustrating phenomenon at first, but the truth is: people connect with what flows out of you, not what you struggle to force or what you think is clever.
3. “I want it to be affordable.”
As a consumer, do you feel more pride in owning something affordable, or something valuable?
Art purchases aren’t a necessity. People purchase art as something they feel a connection to. They want value, not affordability. When price is the priority, buyers turn to more generic, mass-produced work.
Beyond affordability, your creative practice needs to be sustainable. Does your pricing pay you fairly for your time, supplies, and growth as an artist?
If you want to make quality art accessible to someone who truly can’t afford it, it can be more noble and satisfying for everyone involved to gift it, rather than diminish its value. Gifting also sets a boundary - it discourages others from approaching you for bargains.
Grants, residencies, or patrons can also help subsidize costs, letting you maintain the value of your work while still keeping it financially accessible.
4. “If I price it low, more people will buy it.”
How’s that working out for you? Is your inexpensive artwork really flying off the shelves? If it is, then lower your overhead costs and keep at it. But if it isn’t, ask yourself: what story is your price telling? As marketing expert Seth Godin says, “Price tells a story.” Does your price say your work is unique, personal, and worth investing in—or that it’s common and disposable?
It might seem counterintuitive, but many artists actually sell more when they raise their prices and focus on reaching the right audience. Higher pricing often signals confidence and value—qualities that attract serious buyers and increase sales.
5. “I’m new, so I don’t deserve higher prices yet.”
Are you measuring your value by your popularity or by the quality of your work? If the work is quality, why doesn’t it deserve to be priced accordingly? If you’re attentive to your craft, why do you need consumers to validate it?
Being a well-known artist might justify pushing your prices higher, but that model is more about supply and demand than the actual value of the work. For example, at a particular price point, there may be more demand for work than an artist can keep up with. Increasing prices can reduce the number of requests while still allowing them to make a sustainable living. The work of deceased artists can also justify higher prices because the available supply is finite. In both cases, the price reflects demand more than the intrinsic value of the piece.
6. “I feel guilty asking for more.”
Do you feel guilty because the price is unfair—or because you’re not used to valuing your own work? Are you mistaking your hesitation to ask for money with the buyer’s willingness to pay for what it’s worth? Does lowering your price out of guilt truly serve the buyer—or just diminish the story your work tells?
People take pride in paying for things that are valuable—especially when it directly supports the creator. Paying more gives them a sense of ownership, knowing they’ve invested in something meaningful. It deepens their connection to the artist because they’ve truly supported the work. Undercutting your price robs them of that experience and undermines the very value they’re seeking.
Charging on the higher side isn’t negative—being underpaid is. Underpricing creates stress and makes it harder to deliver quality work. If you ever feel a price is high, add value—through a future discount or a small gift—which balances things and creates goodwill with the client.
7. “I’d rather sell than sit with unsold work. / I need to sell this work to pay bills.”
Does lowering your price actually guarantee more sales, or does it just lower the perceived value of your work? By pricing low to move a piece, are you creating the expectation that buyers should wait for a discount? What do you find more important – short term sales, or establishing value and sustainability in your practice?
When every piece has to pay the bills, you enter the dangerous space of creating from fear. You explore less, experiment less, and take fewer bold risks with your work. That pressure can also push you to undercut your value just to make quick sales. Over time, you risk burning out and reducing something you love into a joyless task.
Depending on art sales alone to cover every bill can make your practice more limiting than liberating. The constant pressure to sell reduces experimentation, boldness, and joy. Art is most powerful when it isn’t burdened with survival—but valued and sustained for its creative worth.