In a recent email exchange I told this person how Ive been having serendipitous encounters with music/sound the last few years. In times where articulation hasn’t sufficied, where silence has felt more jarring than consoling, I’ve always been met with a sound/song that has articulated the very thing that I needed to say, hear or embody. I told them how it has been even more profound when it’s in a language I don’t understand but in the space between naming and silence, there’s a stirring that later moves to clarity.
That same craving for silence has returned. Perhaps it’s the seasonal change and how it ushers in a need to slow down and reflect. Or it’s the transitional space created when out growing what has closely clung but no longer is inhabitable and fit to identify oneself with.
I’ve been listening to Gigi Masin and thinking about the record shop owner in Porto who recommended his music to me this summer. I initially went in looking for Roberto Musci’s Tower of Silence, and instead left with Emahoy Tsege’s Spielt Eigen Kompositionen album, and an extensive list of new music to check out. I ended the evening reading The Bluest Eye, orange wine in hand and concluded with a conversation with this guy who in 15 minutes managed to ask me a series of questions that gave shape to things I was reflecting on during that trip.
The mirroring between that conversation and the music I found that day left me thinking about the role of experiencing vs naming/definition. What happens when we stop trying to make sense of things and let the strangeness and serendipity of life lead us to (new) answers? What happens when we shed off our old structures we relied on for safety and trust that new ones can be created? What comes at a cost of choosing expansion?
theartofmadeline
romaincrisis
gracieabrams
origamiaround
vaporwave
dailybridgerton
germansingergirl
yousharknotpass
