The Colors of Stillness

On August 29, 1952, David Tudor walked onto the stage of a recital hall in Woodstock, New York. He was about to perform a piece of contemporary music played on the piano. As you would imagine, Tudor strode to the piano, sat down, and closed the lid. The performance of 4’33” started—with stillness.

4’33” is a piano piece in three movements composed by John Cage, and its title refers to the duration of the composition in minutes and seconds. The music was intended for any variation of instruments or groups of instruments, and the outcome was always the same—silence. When Tudor performed the piece, the intent was to have the audience hear what they typically do not. That is, all the sounds that occur when we’re too busy paying attention to other things—the hum of silence, people stirring in their seats, coughing or sneezing, birds in nature—however, the random noise manifested itself.

For Cage, this piece was inspired by the idea that sound—any sound, could be music. Further, Cage had studied Zen Buddhism, and stillness was an aspect of the practice he studied for years. Later in life, the composer reflected during an interview that 4’33” was his most important work.

“It takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place.

If you want to get somewhere else,

you must run at least twice as fast as that!”

— Lewis Carroll, ‘Alice in Wonderland’

Stillness Arises

Many of us remember the uncertain and stressful period of the pandemic lockdowns. For me, weekly writing arose as a way to keep a routine and to speak for myself at a time when we had to remain physically apart.

I remember the first time I heard the birds chirping in Barcelona after the lockdown started. At first, the silence was deafening. It was strange, and the feeling was that it was almost post-apocalyptic. Something enormous had occurred, and the silence was what remained.

In that silence and that stillness, I searched—for my voice creatively. I re-discovered that creativity and the arts, including writing, would become a grounding force for me. In other words, this is where I picked up the colors for my life at a time when there was so much confusion and anxiety. I realized later that the stillness was producing more color-filled creativity in others.

Painters painted. Musicians sang. Writers wrote. Dancers danced. And audiences paid attention. Creativity was everywhere you chose to look. All you had to do was turn on your computer or look at your social media feeds; creative sharing was happening across space and time.

During that period of quiet, I took art history classes, watched world-class performances from musicians getting live-streamed from their homes, and saw French ballet dancers practice together through live-streaming in their homes. Despite the separation and stillness, there was sharing and a global sense of community. The magic, if you chose to see it, came through technology, which served as a substitute for being live and in-person, but it inspired and offered so many of us hopeful colors in the stillness of our lives and darkness happening outside of our doors.

Reflections Create Energy

When we are still, we can listen to things we may not have heard in the past. For instance, the stillness for me ranged from hearing the chirping of birds to diving into the stories of artists and paintings.

All this became color for me inside the apartment I shared with my husband, Savas. The silence of my life gave me space and time to consider ideas of interest somewhere in the corners of my mind, but for whatever reason, I didn’t have the time to contemplate.

Nah.

The reality is that I did have the time to contemplate, but the lack of stillness made many other things in my life a higher priority. Before the pandemic, it seemed wasteful to think of the arts and creativity when the demands placed by others and myself demanded my time.

There was always a life to be lived—full of activity and outward motion and energy.

The color of my life, and perhaps for many others, was outwardly focused and involved things we did outside of our hearts and minds. The situation we found ourselves in early 2020 allowed many of us to look at the colors inside of ourselves.

It was only because of the oddity of that year and the Great Pause that the space was created for incredible events to take place where we found strength and community despite differences and separation.

Still, I look around now—years later—and see the world again racing toward its destiny when perhaps it would be better to remember to slow down, be still, and contemplate.

What is the rush?

Why the speed?

© 2025 Linda N. Spencer, My Red Sneakers. All Rights Reserved.