Silence has two sides. While we consciously seek the positive silence, the other silence confronts us with an unpleasant emptiness. Artists have been playing with the fear of emptiness for over 100 years when they challenge us with works that are reduced to an absolute minimum.

Scene one: A bare, white-painted waiting room. There is nothing more than a hard chair. It blends in beautifully with the wall, tone on tone. Let's imagine we have to stay here and don't know how long. So let's take a seat. The information that the room offers us is quickly scanned. If our attention keeps slipping away from the white wall, we will start looking for a new fixed point. It is possible that such a situation makes us uncomfortable.

Scene two: We are talking to another person. Our mutual familiarity is superficial. The dialog works according to familiar rules: One person talks, the other listens and remains silent. The ball is passed back and forth properly. But then one partner fails to pass the ball and the conversation pauses. The dialog comes to a standstill. We want to get the ball rolling again in search of a continuation. It is possible that such a situation makes us insecure.

Scene three: We are sitting in the concert hall. The musicians have entered, the instruments are tuned. The audience slowly quietens down and the light gives way to darkness. We await the first note, but it doesn't sound. We maintain our concentration for a while. But when the orchestra falls silent, our attention goes searching. It is possible that such a situation makes us restless.

What do all three scenes have in common? We experience silence in three different situations. A silence, however, that we were not looking for. We indulge in the positive silence with joy, find it in life-styled self-discovery meditations or through alpine nature experiences. The other kind of silence, however, throws us into nothingness. It does not relax us, it does not calm us down. It confronts us mercilessly with emptiness.

In the 20th century, a "less-is-more" fashion spread in art, music and literature. In the experimental field of reduction, monochrome paintings were created that denied the eye a fixed point. Or poems that spoke to the reader through pauses. And finally, a music of silence that revealed this emptiness that was difficult to bear. As a musical pioneer, Erik Satie was already exploring the musical treatment of time at the turn of the century. Vexations was the name of his piano piece, which lasted around twenty hours and for which the pianist had to prepare himself with the utmost silence. Post-war composers paid tribute to Satie's aesthetic and explored slow and quiet music. If the "less" in the music continues to increase, the silence becomes silence. If the pause "resounds" as deliberately composed silence, then we are confronted with the other side of silence. And with emptiness. "Less is more" becomes "even less is empty".

Wolfgang Rihm points out in the score of his music theater The Hamlet machine points out: "Nothing happens for 30 seconds. Despite horror vacui: count through. "
Philosophers called the child by this name: "Horror Vacui" means the fear of emptiness. A 30-second pause is treacherous, which can rarely be said of music that lasts 30 seconds. Whether as a listening audience or performing musician: if the music is silent, our fixed point becomes blurred, time expands. The emptiness that joins us has no direction. When the searching gaze slips off the white wall, a new fixed point must be found. That's why we feel the urge to fill empty spaces, end pauses and break silences. How good that our mind will help us: Whenever situations become unpleasant, it will look for shortcuts, avoid uncertainties or prevent them altogether. It wastes no time in doing so. Let's take the third scene: in the concert hall, we are waiting for the orchestra to start playing. Our mind will reliably become active. It ensures that our gaze, fixed on the stage, slowly feels its way to the edge of the stage. We will realize that our seating position is not the most comfortable and correct it. The person sitting next to us does the same. The emptiness awakens our senses. We bounce our legs, turn our heads and take a deep breath. Our thoughts jump. We will watch people or go through the shopping list. The tactics for refocusing are many and varied. There is a lot to discover in the communal horror vacui. We don't have to fear the void, because it naturally sparks creative potential. Seen in this light, the void does not exist.

Scene four: Let's trust that our minds will fill any empty space as if by magic. Let's simply take a confident seat in the white-painted waiting room. Together with a silent stranger, we wait for the promised piece of music to begin. Our mind will become active and bridge the tense silence. Perhaps relaxation is already setting in. At the latest when the music starts, the burden can fall from our shoulders. It is possible that we will get up with the first note to leave the room and start searching for a new fixed point: a place where we can celebrate the silence and emptiness a little more.