In front of me was a patchwork of golden, sunlit grasses. Behind me a bank of perfectly puffy, monumental clouds. Since the light was fading fast, and I’d only brought one canvas, I was forced to choose. I picked the golden grass. The clouds built themselves up bigger and puffier and pinker just to spite me – but you know what? I’m an artist. I have this little thing I carry in my imaginary wallet called an ~artistic license~. So I painted in my own clouds to spite them right back.