An Artist must forego empiricism. The moment I lay the ruler of the Scientific Method down upon my music, I am a child lost in the labyrinths of a church. Each new experiment effaces the memory of the prior, to the point that, having run down so many corridors, it becomes impossible to say whether or not I go in circles. The moment I have exhausted all logical possibilities, it will be impossible for me to ascertain that I have done so. Each time I am to try a given variant: Have I tried it before?? I cannot recall whether I have or whether what I call my memory of having done so is merely the intent to do so. At this point: Where memory and intent are indistinguishable, I can surmise not only that This form is all ready Old, but I can extrapolate that so are all the rest. In truth, it is the Old that tempts me towards dogmatic empiricism at the very outset, luring me into the maze. The moment I set foot into the Sun, open again to the New, I am left with only that which rests in my Heart.
dm.A.A.
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