I don’t regard myself’ as an organist, neither a pianist, nor I acknowledge myself in the vague title of musician. I consider myself a thinking creature. I cogitate, “ergo” I’m no more than a soap bubble.. a grain of sand... an albatross feather that soars... the shadow of a lotus flower. I’m nothingness that is delighted of being the whole. Actually I define myself “an eternal anti-professional pupil”. I don’t understand concert musicians who perform music from top to toe, as a unique artistic aim. I refuse without slander, the philological performers, who, alas, hope against hope to revive musical pages now dead. These performers prefer the death and swelling of the idea of music. Music itself doesn’t exist. The idea survives because it is worked out as a “significant” of the human being’s desire. The human being is a millimetre ideography (Guglielmo Marino).

For this reason the human being is defined:
by the hand movements (Cheironomia)
by the language (Conceptually)
by the creation (Objectually)
life and death (Space-temporally)
soul (Eternally)
meory-moment of the God’s dream-shadow (Divinally)

With these intentions you can do “idea-music”. I use all the keyboard instruments, playing the ida of any music. I’m not interested in the composer, may be Beethoven, Chopin, Messiaen, Frescobaldi, Tosti, Sting. I immediately apply a key-finger-idea synaesthesia. So I go on without interpretative inhibition and I’m not worried oh getting wrong not even worried of being consonant with moral the Music School, that is even worse. In a few words “I  -without presumption  or identification- free the mind from the mind”.
Finally: when you listen to a concert, don’t stiffen and don’t be shocked. If you think it is convenient, go away. Don’t swear at me don’t hate me. You know, I’m nothing else but a “millimetre ideography”, aware of his frailty. So, I’m waiting for you, under the Knowledge Tree with gaiety (in Italian Gaiezza).