EL BLOG SILENCIOSO

Fibonacci spied on nature to decipher its beauty and understood a mathematical sequence, a progression that, as was later proven, uses life itself to create everything from snails to leaves, from humans to the universe. The beauty of things is in their perfect and harmonious distance, in their arithmetic progression, and in their combination. Artists do not have a gift. We are just perfect mathematicians of beauty. When people enjoy music or a text, they are actually feeling the perception of distance. As a musician who makes music, they are not my distances. They are universal distances. The space between one note and another, the distance between the frequencies of sounds that reach the ear, the spaces between verbs and adjectives in a spontaneous phrase, and the proportions and arrangements of bodies in a photo are nothing more than that. We just grasp the order and transform it into works of art, songs, or verbs. We actually like ourselves, the progression of our existence, and the summary we make at the end of the spiral of life when we can already contemplate almost all of it. Then we marvel at Bach, at perfect love, and at what we call God. When we go to a concert, we see ourselves reflected in those notes because their distances are ours. We go to concerts to see ourselves reconstructed in songs. And to museums to see ourselves drawn in a landscape. We love that order even in punk music because, with its organized chaos, it generates a perfect cycle of destruction and re-creation. That’s why I write, make music, and listen to everything that comes to my ears: because I instinctively look for Fibonacci in everything. I go with that measuring stick called the soul, and I search desperately—we search, I like to believe—for things to fit into a perfect and beautiful measurement.

fn=fn-1+fn-2
G.C.