A block is not emptiness — it is fullness of the wrong kind, accumulated pressure that the work is not yet strong enough to bear or the maker not yet honest enough to name. The way through is rarely force; more often it is the patient reduction of what has been falsely required — the expectation, the audience imagined too early, the form borrowed from somewhere it does not belong. The work returns when the conditions for its return are genuine, and not before.
Each step builds on the last.