Details, details, details...
It seems there's nothing more. There is something strangely soothing about that fact, but also so exasperating, as I seem to enjoy the big esoteric though process so much more. But, the details are what makes meaning, or so it seems right now.
So, we buy rubber matting, bulbs, poster boards, bottles of water and we worry about timing and scale and height and light.
I think that this has officially become WORK, though I'm not entirely sure what that means.