I think it comes from really liking literary forms. Poetry is very beautiful, but the space on the page can be as affecting as where the text is. Like when Miles Davis doesn’t play, it has a poignancy to it.

Jarmusch links his aesthetic to an affection for form itself: meaning is produced not only by what is present (the words, the images) but by what is withheld. His comparison to poetry’s “space on the page” points to layout, pacing, and silence as expressive devices—white space can shape emotion as strongly as language. The Miles Davis analogy extends this to music: rests and pauses create tension, intimacy, and poignancy, making the listener feel the contour of what could be played. Applied to film and storytelling, the remark suggests a minimalist ethic—ellipses, dead time, and restraint can deepen atmosphere and invite the audience to participate by filling in gaps.