In one of the first essays for Cuepoint—a new publication on Medium about music, Tom Moon writes about meeting Miles Davis and learning about his fine art:


  I asked if he sensed any kinship between his line drawing and the lines he created in music; he said something flip, like “they both come from me.” Later, much later, this registered as deceptively profound. After all, many who are evocative in one discipline often attempt other disciplines — with erratic results. Davis had a thing, a core identity that prevailed across different mediums and modes of expression. In both pursuits, his lines could be wild and shaky and vulnerable, defined by the courage to share something less than perfect. That willingness to be human—to let the note crack, or the line trail off into errant nothingness—operated in the manner of a magnetizing force, overriding the small-minded considerations of “technique” and zoom straight to the level of soul. He didn’t play notes on the trumpet; he put the sound of pure conviction into the horn.


I, admittedly, had no idea Miles Davis also painted. The few pieces included in this essay are wonderful.

In one of the first essays for Cuepoint—a new publication on Medium about music, Tom Moon writes about meeting Miles Davis and learning about his fine art:

I asked if he sensed any kinship between his line drawing and the lines he created in music; he said something flip, like “they both come from me.” Later, much later, this registered as deceptively profound. After all, many who are evocative in one discipline often attempt other disciplines — with erratic results. Davis had a thing, a core identity that prevailed across different mediums and modes of expression. In both pursuits, his lines could be wild and shaky and vulnerable, defined by the courage to share something less than perfect. That willingness to be human—to let the note crack, or the line trail off into errant nothingness—operated in the manner of a magnetizing force, overriding the small-minded considerations of “technique” and zoom straight to the level of soul. He didn’t play notes on the trumpet; he put the sound of pure conviction into the horn.

I, admittedly, had no idea Miles Davis also painted. The few pieces included in this essay are wonderful.

“I like the idea that the story changes over time even though nothing has changed on the outside. What’s changed is all in my head and has to do with a realisation on my character’s part. And the story can only be told in a particular form. It can’t be told in a painting. The point is: it’s very important that what you do is specific to the medium in which you’re doing it, and that you utilise what is specific about that medium to do the work. And if you can’t think about why it should be done this way, then it doesn’t need to be done.”
Charlie Kaufman on why he writes