The need to write
The need to put down on paper one’s own thoughts, one’s emotions and one’s own
intimate moments in life, is very similar to the pleasure that can be felt whilst composing a piece
of music. There is a fine tension that settles between the wanting and the seeking, between ones
intention and the inevitable element of surprise and astonishment that each new page leaves behind
once completed. In the rush to draft and create there are, in fact, innumerable times that one has
to change an idea or that one encounters a crossroad. Choosing to go down one road or the other does
not lead to the same outcome. Sometimes there are roads that lead to dead ends, whereas others lead
to unexpected results. The need for the speed of creation obliges us to choose the right road to go
down at the right time, sometimes leaving us to be guided by instinct rather than by common sense, by
the tension which is created towards a certain direction opposed to previously set out criteria.
And in this way it allows free inspiration to drive the soul to donate itself as a medium of intentions
deeper than one’s own will.
It is in this way that one believes he is writing one thing and ends up obtaining the opposite, perhaps
noticing that the obtained result is really a work of art beyond all expectations.
I do not agree with the many, who these days believe that the result of a good piece of work depends
solely on the ability to structure a ‘form’ and to give this ‘form’ internal rules with which to work
coherently. Instead, I believe in the authenticity of sentiments that, when utilized in art, disclose
to Man the essence of all things, making a much greater contribution than that empirically revealed by
science. One cannot doubt that beauty can spring from the ‘form’, but the latter, without content, is
an end in itself and the content proves to have little sincerity if it is not cultivated with sentiment
and willingness.