Introduction

The starting point of this research stems from an inner need to clarify my position within the world of art and music. Over the years, I have increasingly found myself confronted with the fundamental—yet never trivial—question: "Who am I?", often followed by a more specific and urgent one: "Where am I going?" It has always been important for me to place myself within a context—an environment that could provide the stability necessary to approach my work with a sense of serenity and purpose.

I have always been fascinated by boundaries: boxes, walls, enclosed spaces. I am drawn to limitations, as they force me to confront the extent of my current capabilities and challenge me to consider whether I possess the tools needed to go beyond them—or whether new tools must be acquired.

The musician I am now

I come from a strictly jazz background, having spent many years immersed in an environment that fulfilled both my artistic and social needs. Over time, however, I began to notice that my artistic appetites were increasingly diverging from the jazz idiom. I found myself no longer stimulated or fulfilled by the musical language or the community surrounding it. This realization prompted me to seek alternative paths—ones that could at least gesture toward the direction I felt I needed to explore. Within free improvisation, I discovered a form of expression that felt instinctive and natural.

Given how broadly and sometimes rigidly the term “free” has come to be used—often denoting specific musical genres or schools of thought—how do I define free improvisation for myself? For me, it means a practice not bound to a codified language, unlike the strict structures and stylistic expectations I encountered in jazz. It is an open space where I can act and interact with others without the weight of expectation, regardless of their musical background or level of technical knowledge. It is a process centered on mutual listening, not on proving technical ability, mastery of idioms, or fluency in repertoire.

This kind of approach to performance not only satisfies me as a performer but also allows me greater freedom in the use of pedals and electronics—tools that expand my expressive range and reshape the sonic possibilities of my instrument. It also represents a shift in paradigm and focus, well articulated by Malcolm Goldstein:

“A shifting of focus, from the performance of sound-object (composition) to sound-play/enactment (improvisation), and other radical implications become apparent. The intention of performance changes; not an aiming at a preformed journey well done […] but rather the realization of form, ourselves finding/revealing on paths (perhaps) untravelled. (‘Unpremeditated music is the true gauge which measures the currents of our thoughts— the very undertow of life's stream,’ reflected Thoreau in his journals.) … like a brook after rain pours through dirt, rock, trees and grass, finding new and subtle twists and turns as things move/are moved in the flow. Doors opening.”
— Goldstein, Sounding the Full Circle, 1988, p. 4

At the same time, I have always felt a deep connection to what Goldstein refers to as the “sound-object”. I am drawn to the craftsmanship of composition, to the possibility of reflecting, of working with time and process. To compose is, for me, to make use of my artistic creativity beyond the boundaries of genre, instrument, or tradition. It is about consciously applying techniques, methods, and systems—studied, tested, and refined—to express myself fully. In this compositional practice, listening, both to the material and to myself, becomes a form of perception. Selection and organization arise through a process that Igor Stravinsky described succinctly:

“The composer works through a perceptual, not conceptual process. He perceives, he selects, he combines [...].”
— Stravinsky, An Autobiography (1962), cited in DeLone et al., 1975

The connection between composition and improvisation, in my experience, lies precisely in the notion of perception—a word rooted in the Latin percipere, meaning "to grasp completely," and implying both effort and attentiveness. Whether improvising or composing, I am fundamentally engaging in acts of perception: I want to perceive while improvising, and I want to perceive while composing.

The musician I'm working towards becoming

In the hope of feeling at home in my professional life, I have experimented with a variety of approaches: from modern jazz guitar performance to writing for different ensembles, from the study of free improvisation to academic research and the exploration of new artistic languages and modes of expression. Although I aspire to remain as fluid as possible—navigating freely between different styles and expressive forms depending on my current interests—I also feel the need to define myself in some way, or at least to clarify my roles within a specific project. For example: Am I more of a guitarist or a composer in this context? What unique qualities can I bring to the project?

This process of self-definition is not driven by a desire to limit myself, but rather to avoid being trapped in a single mode of expression that no longer feels authentic. It is a way to stay connected to my identity and to express myself more genuinely.

However, no definition is without its complexities. Within my self-identification as a composer lies a significant connection to free improvisation—an element that links me back to my instrument, yet without confining me to the rigid boundaries of a jazz idiom, a language I no longer feel part of.

Thus far, I can summarize the answers to my initial questions as follows: I feel today like a composer who can use improvisation through my instrument or perceptually, for navigating personal interests. 

Yet, stopping here would mean neglecting a recent and growing sentiment within me—a direction that I believe is essential to becoming the musician I aspire to be. That direction involves considering artistic research not merely as a tool for creation, but as a parallel means of self-inquiry: a way of questioning who I am, where I am heading, and how I relate to environments different from those I am accustomed to. This includes experimenting with various artistic disciplines and media.

Amid these multiple definitions—which is why the term fluidity so accurately captures my personal and artistic stance—the idea for this research emerged: to find a common ground and a direction for my development. It represents an attempt to create a system through which I can better understand the multifaceted nature of my identity as a musician.

Research Goal

This research seeks to address three core aspects of my artistic inquiry: the connection to my instrument, the compositional and narrative dimension of my work, and the exploration of new languages and possibilities. In the absence of a concrete, tangible objective to guide my thoughts, I decided that the research itself would become the object of study: a path of discovery that embraces all these facets.

The central goal is to design an expandable system that allows me to compose music adaptable to any role, context, or artistic desire I may encounter—starting from the spontaneity of free improvisation with my instrument. And, as with any well-prepared journey into the unknown, both the right vehicle and suitable tools are required. The latter, in particular, had to be created from scratch—new, personal tools capable of evolving alongside my artistic and human transformation.

Next page >>>>