Silence. John Cage

in

      a chart was used

      it disappeared

      to be replaced

      by a new one.

      Immobile meant

      that though an el-

      ement in a

      chart had been used,

      it remained to

      be used again.

      At each unit

      structural point,

      a chance oper-

      ation deter-

      mined which of the

      charts, numbers one,

      three, five, and sev-

      en or numbers

      two, four, six, and

      eight, were mobile

      and which of the

      charts were immo-

      bile—not changing.

      ¶The structure, there-

      fore, was in these

      respects useful.

      Furthermore, it

      determined the

      beginning and

      ending of the

      composition-

      al process. But

      this process, had

      it in the end

      brought about a

      division of

      parts the time-lengths

      of which were pro-

      portional to

      the origi-

      nal series of

      numbers, would have

      been extraordi-

      nary. And the

      presence of the

      mind as a rul-

      ing factor, e-

      ven by such an

      extraordina-

      ry eventu-

      ality, would

      not have been es-

      tablished. For what

      happened came a-

      bout only through

      the tossing of

      coins. ¶It be-

      came clear, therefore,

      I repeat, that

      structure was not

      necessary.

      And, in Musicfor Piano, and subsequent pieces, indeed, structure is no longer a part of the compo- sition means. The view taken is not of an ac- tivity the purpose of which is to inte- grate the oppo- sites, but rather of an activ- ity charac- terized by process and es- sentially

      purposeless. The

      mind, though stripped

      of its right to

      control, is still

      present. What does

      it do, having

      nothing to do?

      And what happens

      to a piece of

      music when it

      is purposeless-

      ly made? ¶What hap-

      pens, for instance,

      to silence? That

      is, how does the

      mind’s perception

      of it change? For-

      merly, silence

      was the time lapse

      between sounds, use-

      ful towards a va-

      riety of

      ends, among them

      that of tasteful

      arrangement, where

      by separat-

      ing two sounds or

      two groups of sounds

      their differen-

      ces or rela-

      tionships might re-

      ceive emphasis;

      or that of ex-

      pressivity,

      where silences

      in a musi-

      cal discourse might

      provide pause or

      punctuation;

      or again, that

      of architec-

      ture, where the in-

      troduction or

      interruption

      of silence might

      give defini-

      tion either to

      a predeter-

      mined structure or

      to an organ-

      ically de-

      veloping one.

      Where none of these

      or other goals

      is present, si-

      lence becomes some-

      thing else—not si-

      lence at all, but

      sounds, the ambi-

      ent sounds. The na-

      ture of these is

      unpredicta-

      ble and changing.

      These sounds (which are

      called silence on-

      ly because they

      do not form part

      of a musi-

      cal intention)

      may be depen-

      ded upon to

      exist. The world

      teems with them, and

      is, in fact, at

      no point free of

      them. He who has

      entered an an-

      echoic cham-

      ber, a room made

      as silent as

      technologi-

      cally possible,

      has heard there two

      sounds, one high, one

      low—the high the

      listener’s ner-

      vous system in

      operation,

      the low his blood

      in circul-

      ation. There are, dem-

      onstrably, sounds

      to be heard and

      forever, giv-

      en ears to hear.

      Where these ears are

      in connection

      with a mind that

      has nothing to

      do, that mind is

      free to enter

      into the act

      of listening,

      hearing each