Packing is a pain. Today I spent about three hours, after work, bubble wrapping, taping, cutting cardboard, and nursing large papercuts, only these weren't papercuts, these were CARDBOARD CUTS. It's worth all the trouble though, believe me, I have had paintings sent back to me with forklift size holes in them. I am very careful with my packing, but I have no control over a gallery's inability to repack my stuff and ship it back to me. I have always found packing paintings a delicate balance between packing tight, but not so tight as to end up with warped canvas. I hate loose canvas. I worked on wood for awhile because of this little hangup, but good lord, talk about heavy. One time I shipped a piece to a gallery in Baltimore and used styrofoam peanuts, which I packed around the edges. When I went to the opening, the painting was hung in the window and little balls of packing foam were all over the painting. They hadn't bothered to brush off the piece before they hung it up. I ended up picking the stuff off myself while others, wine in hand, stood behind me thinking I was a performance piece.