At first glance, the score to a Blueprint may look unfamiliar—especially if you’re used to fully notated music. There are fewer notes than you might expect. Some instructions point to a gesture or way of playing rather than spelling out exact notes and rhythms, and a number of decisions that are usually fixed are left open. In most notated music, the score tells you exactly what to play and how to play it. Listening is mainly about checking your work: fixing mistakes, balancing voices, shaping phrases, and getting the timing right. The goal is to realize what’s already been decided on the page. The Blueprints work differently. Instead of laying out a fixed piece to copy, each one sets up a musical world—its pitch language, range, pacing, and kinds of gestures. Your job isn’t to reproduce what’s on the page, but to listen closely within those conditions and let the music take shape. If your training has taught you to ask, “What exactly should I play?” these scores ask a different question: “What’s already here, and how do I give it sound?” Although performing a Blueprint can involve making choices in the moment, it isn’t improvisation in the usual sense. The musical world is already there—the mode, the range, the pacing, and gestures it invites. What happens in performance is a process of discovery, not invention. This approach asks for restraint—not by holding back expression, but by staying in a listening relationship with the score. By working within its mode, pacing, and inner logic, the music can find its own coherence. Choices are meant to feel inevitable rather than imposed, and personal realization emerges through attentiveness rather than assertion. This way of working grew out of years spent in collaborative performance, especially opera-theater, along with influences from traditions like Japanese Noh theatre, where attention and duration shape how time is experienced—and those same concerns carried into my work at the piano. As I began composing these piano pieces, I found myself working through many realizations of the same musical material, gradually recognizing the elements that remained consistent across them. The Blueprint form emerged as a way of holding that underlying beauty—not as a fixed outcome, but as a living field of attention. I hope that, as you work with these scores, your own journey through them proves as rich and generative as mine has been.