As a child, Glass didn't study the piano, although his good-humored sister and brother mention, each of them individually did. By listening to his siblings' practices and delving into the classical records their father brought home weekly, Glass began his journey which alternatingly has won him acclaim and fierce criticism. He likes the bad reviews, of which there are several, he mentions. It validates him in a certain manner, that people dislike his work so much.

As Hicks retells this memory lane, he blends present day footage of Glass cooking his veggie pizzas, working on a new opera and spending time with his children. All of this serves to give reality to what could be a stilted history lesson otherwise.

Cameos by Glass' friends and fellow artists Chuck Close, Woody Allen, Godfrey Reggio and Errol Morris complete a picture of the man as artist, although it's his wife Holly who gives some idea of his emotional and spiritual landscape. As she walks through Glass' work space and shares ideas about his life, it's almost as if she's the grounded voice he's no need to cultivate himself. Yet, Holly also sees that a dedication to imagination does come with a price, and as Hicks covers all the areas of a life, Glass: A Portrait of Philip in Twelve Parts lives up to his statement, "Cinema is not about facts, it’s about emotion."

Lyrically rendered and without a hole in its storytelling, the film succeeds in the same manner a Glass' score does itself. It allows its audience to feel, not too painfully, not too joyously but with a deep sense of understanding that, as Glass himself says, runs like an untapped river just underneath the surface.