Quiet Politics
Speaking as a filthy maximalist who wears a Brian Eno hat more days than not, my opinion is that music is one thing the minimalists got right. I don’t have the expertise to criticize ambient and contemporary classical music with nuance, but it has become an increasingly meaningful part of my life over the last half-decade.
Expression through negative space has taken many years for me to see clearly, like one of those weird blot tests where you’re actually supposed to see the image that defines the blot rather than the blot itself. In the visual realm, minimalism still doesn’t move me. Sonically, it’s a different story entirely.
As such, one of the best decisions of my creative life so far was taking the opportunity to see German composer Max Richter play live in Brooklyn. It was a transcendent experience for me that put Richter and his orchestra in full control over my emotions. His pieces mix sorrow and hope in a way that never resolves itself into full catharsis.
Primarily, I sat in my seat and felt profound and exclusive sadness for two hours. Genuine, “feeling your feelings” sadness, which is a famously difficult emotion to access for most people, let alone marinate in it for an extended period of time. My friend who accompanied me pointed out that sadness typically pairs itself with action: You can do the dishes, you can go for a walk, you can escape it easily or sometimes express it to distance yourself from its weight.
