I have heard it said that a composer paints on silence. This is, of course, complete nonsense. Music is performed on Time itself, silence a shade in the pallet! This also means nothing. The canvas must be air and its constituent gases. Compression, rarefaction. But where’s the romance in that? Besides, only by nothing can anything be: With music we share an origin of silence, which gives a note its life and voice; like space a word its… weight The emptiness between these lines and curves are as embrasure to merlon; trough to crest, the void a footprint, an absence; a passage through- We are surrounded by negative space. In fact, everything means nothing. But the reverse is also true.