In writing, I always look for a sense of mystery, a new perspective, a risk or a contradiction. What matters is overcoming certainties, or negating them; I aspire to a new space for creation.
Multiplicity is a way to reach such artistic freedom.
I see it in the struggle of different and inconsistent sound materials, juxtaposed and opposed, weakening the form, until its collapse. Then, materials are not only valuable for themselves, but they acquire importance in relation to all the other musical ideas.
Multiplicity is also coexistence and integration. In this sense, the addition of new lutherie to the common instrumentation is, to my mind, not only a way to enlarge the musical palette; instead, it constitutes also a challenge for musical invention, forcing a change in perspective on techniques and style. Our conception can be twisted by setting what is usually subordinate at the core of the compositional process. New approaches can be derived, changing the way we are used to play and perceive even the common lutherie.
Multiplicity, for me, has to do also with polymorphism. I want and always wanted to experience different compositional approaches, from "stream of consciousness" to formalized composition; I haven't disdained writing songs.
I listen to the surrounding environment not less accurately than to a piece of music. I find often everyday sounds more inspiring than the ones coming from official instruments.
In "listening to the world" (as I call this attitude), a quasi-acousmatic experience, there is something special, a kind of closer contact with the world itself. This process sometimes gives me the illusion, or the certainty, to discover something more about my existence.
Such experience is increasingly transferred in my musical production.