The Vanishing Art of Silence
It feels like silence is slipping away from us. Hans Arp once said, “Soon silence will have passed into legend. Man has turned his back on silence. Day after day he invents machines and devices that increase noise and distract humanity from the essence of life, contemplation, meditation.” And honestly, it’s hard to argue with him.
Everywhere you look, the world is getting louder. The hum of machines, the constant chatter of notifications, the endless stream of entertainment—it’s all designed to fill every empty moment and corner of the mind. It’s as if we’ve collectively decided that silence is something to be avoided, that stillness is a void we need to cover over with sound.
But in turning our backs on silence, I think we’re losing something essential. Silence isn’t just the absence of noise; it’s a space. It’s a moment to breathe, to reflect, to be present. In silence, we connect with ourselves. We process our thoughts. We notice the world around us. It’s in silence that the essence of life reveals itself—not in the noise, but in the pauses between it.
The constant noise of modern life doesn’t just distract us—it dulls us. It keeps us from thinking too deeply, from feeling too much. It’s easier to scroll endlessly through social media or binge on streaming shows than it is to sit quietly and confront what’s really going on in your mind. Silence is uncomfortable because it forces us to be honest — with ourselves, with our emotions, with the things we’d rather avoid.
But silence is also where the magic happens. It’s where ideas form, where creativity is born, where clarity emerges. When you strip away the noise, you can actually hear yourself think. You can feel the rhythm of your own breath, the beating of your own heart. You can be still, for a moment, in a world that never seems to stop moving.
I can’t help but wonder if that’s why we’ve let silence slip away—because it demands something of us. It asks us to slow down, to step outside the relentless momentum of modern life. It asks us to listen, not to the noise of the world, but to the quieter truths inside ourselves. And maybe that scares us since it has become unfamiliar.
But silence doesn’t have to be a relic of the past. We can reclaim it, even in small ways. We can turn off the devices, step away from the noise, and just sit. We can let ourselves be still, be quiet. We can make space for the things that truly matter — contemplation, meditation, connection.
Hans Arp was right—man has turned his back on silence. But it’s never too late to turn back. Silence is still there, waiting for us, if we’re willing to become quiet enough to listen. And in that silence, we might just rediscover the essence of life - being undistractedly present.
When we returned from a visit to relatives in Japan last June, people
Asked what my favorite thing was. I couldn’t think. It took a few days to get back to our time zone. And then I realized-it was the silence. It was so quiet there. Even this-A construction crew was building next to our relatives house; we could see them from the kitchen window, but we heard nothing. And on the trains and in busy stations silence. And restaurants. Quiet. Amazing.
Another thought provoking essay. I find myself as I get older that I crave silence and get more annoyed at consistent noise (gardeners are one of the worse offenses of this irritation). Decades ago I always had to have some music on in the studio as I worked but the last few years living in this house, I don't want any music at all as I make my art. Sometimes I'll talk out loud as I'm creating and that helps me to figure out things. I've learned to love my solitude but have a dear friend/artist I can communicate with when I have the urge to 'talk art' with someone. And my insomnia is all about the silence as that's when my mind is coming up with all sorts of ideas for new pieces to be created.