Sometimes you just have to move simultaneously in opposite directions: at this point, every score I make can, in principle, be delivered in electronic format, via the magic of electrons telling other electrons to "move along!" (just like little doggies), but at the same time, an obsession with the material form of the hard copy of my scores continues unabated, with several rolls of handmade Nepali paper waiting to be cut down as coverstock, and it'll be exquisite coverstock, with no two volumes ever identical. Heck, I even went to the hardware store this week and had plywood cut for a test run of even more substantial covers. Who knows what's next? Stainless steel? Cast iron? Concrete?
I won't push this parallel too far, but there is something here akin to my tastes in visual arts. I am hopelessly lost in my attachment to the works of Duchamp and Irwin, one an artist who moved the artwork away from the retina and direct perception and to the mind, and the other an artist who retrieved the sensual from the mind once again. Coincidenta oppositorum.
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