Dwell, awful Silence, on the shady hills
Among the bleating flocks, and purling rills,
When Pan the reed doth to his lips apply,
Inspiring it with sacred harmony.
Hydriads, and Hamadryads at that sound
In a well order’d measure beat the ground.
“What any experimental art is trying to get you to do is move beyond your preconceptions and your expectations regarding what should be happening, what’s going to happen, what kinds of effects it should have, and enter a liminal state in which those things can be redefined in the way that the particular artist or piece of art is proposing.”
Nathaniel Mackey