Why does music look big in small things?

There is, of course, a homology of resonance between the sublimity of choral rooms and the inside of guitars. Both spaces tend to amplify resonance in their emptiness, the body of sound, but while one is instrumental, the other is epitome of a general desire for unaffordable living spaces. Not being in it is crucial to their consumption and enjoyment in both cases.

These artistic rearrangements of the nano world - a swift reaction to the meme in the insta vibe of a Frank Kunert - shift to a totally different form of art architecture: the museum - unaffordable, no place to exist in - that captures the romanticism of Caspar David Friedrich in its sublimity of altitude and brightness, while there is strange overdeterminism of lighting in the resonance room: The light above from outside and the spotlight which is aiming at an unclear direction.

Still... There is something more to it. Music is bound to ballooning up the small to bigger scales, a phenomenon that seemed to surface in memes since Covid-19 or shortly before that: Nanoperspectives that remind the viewer of musical rooms and spaces. And they do not even have to follow a curated sound architecture.

The devil is in the details, no.

Music is just inhuman in this particular way, not transhuman, not superhuman as a sacral, religious sublimity, but inhuman as the nano and the macro spaces always are and will be for humans stuck in meso wet space. The room of resonance is the absolute opposite of existence because it needs to be empty to work.

So it's not enough to say that the Gefühl des Grösseren was purchased on the posthuman: "Doch das Gefühl des Grösseren wird durch das Posthumane erkauft: Postrock zu hören bedeutet, auf jeden Rockstar zu verzichten, den man anhimmeln könnte."

Literature and music (out) of skin means rather an epidermal barrier of scale: Music is always bigger than us, but in the most literal sense, which is the same as to say it is smaller than us.