Eccomi is a self-portrait. A snapshot of a part of my life and my home, marked by Giovanni, my Italian father, a musician and electronics engineer, for whom there was no quantitative difference between the beauty of a klavierstucke and the late 20th-century robots sent into space.
I have no memory of when I started playing the piano; it is incorporated into my most basic motor skills. While some see it as a bourgeois symbol of the 19th century, for me the piano remains the matrix of a way of thinking that generates simultaneity, which, through the infinitesimal action of thousands of coordinated movements, triggers emotional construction. And just as Athanasius Kircher’s sound machines preceded the steam engine, I imagine that keyboard instruments preceded the machines that have allowed us to develop our current type of memory, deformed into a superficial multi-access system that remembers only when it connects and not when it accumulates.
This dialectic is present in the work: a robot lying on the ruins of the piano listens to and interprets the sounds it produces at random. It will then attempt, based on its constructed listening, to delimit areas in which symmetries, synchronicities, and memories can be generated on the ruins of a forgotten instrument.
This listening is translated into a dynamic musical score that reflects this music in space, allowing another musician to interact with the installation. It is like attempting a complex but unstable coupling whose associative force is reversed and does not depend on internal orientation but rather on the environment.