This lady didn't 'settle' for a long time. She languished in my sketchbook, penciled lightly. I'd return to it from time to time, tinker, and not make up my mind. Or rather, she didn't make up her mind.
I don't know if any discipline other than writers and visual artists talk that way about their work, like the work itself has an opinion about its final form. I catch myself doing that occasionally, and usually the listener nods and smiles like they understand. So how about it listeners? Do you actually understand, or are you humoring the fruitbasket artiste?