Gleaned from a wikipedia tangent:

Zeuxis was an innovative Greek painter of the sixth century. One day he received a commission to paint Aphrodite. The woman who made the commission also insisted upon modelling the part. Zeuxis was in a strange position: his profession, his dependence on commissions, his relationship to his employer. His art, personal expression. Eros and the goddess of love. The commissioner was wealthy but not young.

He did his best because that’s what professionals do. He painted his commissioner as the paragon of beauty, pleasure, and procreation. At some point he had to step back from his creation and get the big picture. That’s when it must have struck him: the realities of work, the compromises it forces upon you. Zeuxis was famous for the realism of his paintings, for the birds that came to peck his canvas grapes. This image– was it too faithful, or not enough?– made him laugh. He couldn’t hold it in; he laughed so hard that he could not stop. Today, we know him as the first person known to die of laughter, while the painting has been lost to time.