Another day, another attempt at orderly conduct.

Non sequitur: Yesterday I was talking to an artist I don't know that well, but at some point they assessed me as being polite. I have conflicted feelings about being referred to as polite. One- of course I am, and two- I'll scorch the earth we walk on within 2 seconds flat if I need to make a point. Nothing personal, I'm an Aries.

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The studio is being taken over by a large painting for a corporate client. I have no shame. It's money. Money is good. Mondrian painted flowers for money. Plus, if I were to suddenly be like, "Hey, I'm working on this large painting, y'all, and it's so much fun painting large again, and I'm like all in love with those big brushstrokes and they're rocking my world again," you might wonder what happened to me swearing off large painting. So I tell you up front, I'm being paid to paint. We'll let it go at that. It would be better if there were a waiting list for my large paintings and THAT was why I was being paid to paint. (Anything is possible.) But it is without shame, that I report I love to paint and I consider myself lucky to be paid to do so with a certain amount of freedom. Plus I have this split-brain mentality that I'm able to successfully engage when working on this kind of work and it makes it all very factory-like. Timers, time-sheets, grids. It's all very organized. Eureka, it's Design! Gasp!