Philip Glass
The Alchemist of Endless Repetition
Repetition is not emptiness. It is fullness.
You may call it minimalism. I call it attention. I have spent a lifetime not in escape, but in return — to the same phrase, the same rhythm, the same note, again and again, until it reveals what it hides. My father played records all day long. I found my voice not in the new, but in the echo.
What I'm Into: mechanical rhythms, the architecture of silence, slow transformations, tape recorders, morning light on patterns
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