This is a special question because I clearly remember the exact object that set me on the path to composition. I was very young, and I recall my mother owning a beautiful music box, one of those mechanical ones that magically comes to life at the push of a button. I used to start it because I was fascinated by its “dance” but what struck me most was the music it played.

It intrigued me, it enthralled me; I felt deeply moved by that melody, which I would later discover was by Nino Rota. Feeling such “tsunami like” emotions at just 7 or 8 years old was overwhelming. I realized then that behind the word “Music” lay a wonderful world I wanted to explore and one I was already beginning to navigate, having started playing at age five.

That music box gave me a magical push, and from then on, I embraced music with all my heart.

Since I first started playing, I have always felt a profound need to create music that truly represents me. While I have immense respect for the masterpieces and the great composers I’ve studied, I’ve simultaneously felt the urge to speak my own language and express my own world.

In fact, while pursuing a prestigious career in classical music, I was also experimenting, composing, and exploring other genres. Even as I attended world renowned classical academies, I realized I didn't want to be just a performer; I wanted to find the joy in music. To me, that joy was and remains the act of composing, performing, recording, and mixing my own sonic world. It is the language I have developed and continue to evolve to be entirely myself. It's an eternal game of hide and seek between “who I am “, the Music, and the desire to always push a little further to enrich my vocabulary with new ideas.

My mantra is: “An instrument can be played in a thousand ways, not just the "right" way”’ This phrase sums up my artistic journey allowing myself to be constantly amazed by the magic of sound. This perspective holds even greater significance when viewed through the lens of my rigorous academic journey, as I hold diplomas in both violin and viola. I learned an immense amount from those years of study, but I also developed a critical spirit regarding what I felt was “wrong”.
All too often, that world instills a misguided sense of superiority, this is not right, and it can lead to irreversible damage: if you aren't careful, it can strip away your Instinct, and for me, instinct is one of the most important parts of creativity.

I believe a part of me is in love with powerful, jarring, and intense sounds. However, these qualities can also come to life within unexpected sounds, perhaps even those that seem like polar opposites. When these elements are combined with a specific way of playing the instrument and with a unique way of structuring the harmony and the melody, we find what I call the “hidden blade” or the “blade on ice”. It is a difficult concept to explain, but it’s a way of creating and being that feels completely natural to me

I am trying to make them coexist — this is my greatest challenge: walking a tightrope between these two worlds to find equilibrium. The more you value balance, the further you must push yourself into chaos, only to return and embrace what truly worked. I call this the "War of Details" — because a detail isn't just something precise; it can also be the right kind of grit at the exact right moment.

Pina Bausch’s world struck me and changed me forever. It is enough to say that my inspirations do not stem from the musical world, but rather from the “world of movement” and gesture. The first time I saw Pina Bausch's work at the Théâtre de la Ville in Paris, I didn't think in terms of “beautiful” or “ugly”; instead, I felt that I was no longer alone in the world that there was an artistic vision I belonged to even before I could conceptualize it.

That encounter was a time machine for me. Collaborating with Ditta Miranda, whom I consider the greatest performer of our century and a legendary dancer of Pina’s company, was sublime. Together, we created the “ESTASI” project, a fusion of my musical world and contemporary dance. Those four years of development were fundamental to my artistic growth. Our vision was to dedicate the project to Pina, an act of grace, to reach her through sound and gesture, crying out to the sky through Art to build a ladder that leads to her, to thank her for the immense contribution she gave to the world.

Absolutely. I continue to study my instrument deeply because, as you know, I record my soundtracks myself. Recording through multi-layering is an incredibly delicate experience, filled with nuances and technical challenges that demand constant practice.
However, the instrument is not the only “layer” that needs attention. In the way I approach composition, performing, recording and mixing, everything is a process of continuous study. Nothing can be overlooked because, when you close your eyes and listen deeply, every element must work together as a single breath.

The Beatles, The Prodigy (early era), Lucio Battisti and Erik Satie.

I judge my compositions by the silence they leave behind once they are over. Silence knows how to speak and it knows how to respond; it is a vital point of reference in my life, both as an artist and as a human being.

I spoke about balance earlier, and here too it is essential. It is possible to find a common ground, a true embrace. Often, what might seem like a sacrifice, such as removing a violin part, actually reveals worlds that are far more “right”.
I believe we all have eyes, but deep down we are somewhat blind; to truly see, we must listen to what the music suggests as it embraces the images.

Music, as I like to say, “elbows its way through”, yet it has no ego: sometimes it tells you to strip it down to its essence to achieve a true union. Ultimately, in film, music must be Right first and foremost; only then can all the other adjectives follow: beautiful, melancholic, and so on.

Unpredictability is the secret to everything: if you don’t leave room for error, you aren’t truly living or making music. This is the first thought that comes to mind regarding SOMA instruments. They are human beneath their shells; it’s as if they perceive you at a profound level.
Playing them is a joy because, as a composer, I’m always searching for new paths and inputs, many of which are born from these unique “embraces”. My connection with SOMA is precious because these instruments can reinterpret a sound, strengthening it or even turning it into something “Humanly other”.
I’m thinking, for instance, of when I connected the COSMOS to my Violectra.
I still remember filming the video for SOMA: my track “Fireworks” was born entirely as a live take, improvising with the COSMOS without any post-production or additional layers. It was magical to feel my music vibrating in harmony with Vlad’s philosophy and the SOMA world.

For me, SOMA is not a tool — it is a space where the unexpected becomes inevitable. And that, as a composer, is the most precious thing of all.