Experimenting with oneself brings about periods of intense creativity: One confines oneself to regimented diets, regular habits, isolated wintery walks and controlled sitings; One disciplines oneself against one's playful (now seen as "childish") and frivolous instincts, channeling these energies, almost forcibly, into a particular direction - the direction of one's chosen artistic endeavor. One has to - for one has chosen this art itself out of disregard for one's instincts - one does not believe in their frivolity anymore, one mistrusts their happiness, although previously it was the joy of precisely these instincts that created one's being. This is what happens when one's being has been internalized - one is subjected to the almost-mechanical rule of economy. One does not squander away; one preserves - A Buddha of self-severity, an artist who creates to live, out of nothing, out of death.
Many artists have created this way: They pay internally, often indebting oneself forever, almost out of guilt, for the sake of creating something for the exterior -- ex: one creates love, and sometimes even a life-form which one wants to love. But can one love now without comprising one's artistry? Can one not lose what one has created? Can one break out of the clutches of economy?
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