I wish I could one day lightly touch sheets of paper inhabited by spores of mould and witness the fine noise created by each fragment as it slowly crumbles under my fingers.

Muta stems precisely from that moment, from a very logical, in fact in some ways very ordinary reflection. Since the earliest times, art has perhaps been the only means of giving eternal duration to the succession of symbols and traces of life unfolding across the centuries. A sort of simulacrum that sings the cyclic wayfaring of man in the attempt of making it eternal, despite the awareness that each form of art is a reflection of existence, and hence necessarily subject to transformation, change, decay and disappearance.

This fundamental contradiction was the starting point of my journey. Thus representing this aspect in its entirety meant searching for a volatile, tainted medium that would encompass the concept of decay. And when working on paper, what worse threat than mould?