I've always felt that there's a point where a piece seems to be alive, that is, living. And that's the point where I know the composition is finished.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
A living thing is distinguished from a dead thing by the multiplicity of the changes at any moment taking place in it.
I think I can recognize when a piece is at a state of completion.
You compose because you want to somehow summarize in some permanent form your most basic feelings about being alive, to set down... some sort of permanent statement about the way it feels to live now, today.
Those moments of play that we do get in meta-life, like playing music, or golf, or word-play, or flirting - those are some of the best parts about being alive.
Our lives aren't prepackaged along narrative lines and, therefore, by its very nature, reality-based art - underprocessed, underproduced - splinters and explodes.
The survival of artistic modes in which we recognize ourselves, identify ourselves and place ourselves will survive as long as humanity survives.
Everything is the product of one universal creative effort. There is nothing dead in Nature. Everything is organic and living, and therefore the whole world appears to be a living organism.
Art is not living. It is the use of living.
The art of life is to live in the present moment, and to make that moment as perfect as we can by the realization that we are the instruments and expression of God Himself.
Wherever art appears, life disappears.