In Flatland by Edwin A. Abbott, the concept of dimensions is explored through imaginary worlds such as Pointland, Lineland, Flatland, and Spaceland. The points, the inhabitants of Pointland, live in a one-dimensional world and cannot imagine a line. In Lineland, a two-dimensional world, the lines cannot conceive of a square. In Flatland, a two-dimensional world, geometric shapes cannot comprehend the third dimension.

The protagonist, a square, encounters a sphere from Spaceland, a three-dimensional world. The sphere tries to explain the nature of the third dimension to the square, but initially without success. To help him understand, the sphere lifts the square out of the two-dimensional plane, allowing him to see Flatland from above and become aware of the third dimension. This encounter makes the square reflect on the possibility of a fourth dimension, showing how every being is limited by its own dimensional perception, which prevents it from conceiving of dimensions beyond its own.

Man is like the sphere, living in a three-dimensional world and able to recognize the underlying dimensions: the two-dimensional and the one-dimensional. However, just as a one-dimensional world cannot conceive of the two-dimensional one and the two-dimensional cannot understand the three-dimensional, the three-dimensional cannot conceive of the fourth dimension. This suggests that there are not just three dimensions, but that we are unable to conceive of the subsequent ones and that there are actually infinite dimensions.
Reading this novel inevitably led me to wonder: what dimensions does music have? I have always been fascinated by the relationship between music and dimensions because it is the only art that requires the dimension of time to exist. A painting is instantaneous, as is a sculpture; they exist in an instant and exist even without time… Instead, music cannot unfold without minutes; we might think that primitive singing, as the first form of music, belongs to Lineland because it proceeds along the straight line of time. It is paradoxical that an art like music, so elevating, almost divine, has to do with something so human, like time.

The birth of instrumental polyphony brought music to a new dimension, the harmonic one. Thus, from being a linear art, it became part of the world of Flatland, where the vertical dimension of voice overlapping was known, as well as the horizontality.

Then came the moment of Spaceland. From a compositional point of view, music is not spatial by its nature: just because musicians are physically placed in a space does not mean they perform a composition that develops in it. In this case, the spatiality of the piece derives solely from the physical necessity of placing the orchestra in space, but there is no intention to recreate a musical space: it is a consequence, not a cause. Just as a sphere would appear as a circle to the inhabitants of Flatland because it could not show its third dimension, so a space that exists but cannot be understood is nonexistent in that world.

Only when there were the first composers who used the necessary arrangement of the instrumentalists in a space with the intentional purpose of recreating compositional spatiality can we talk about the beginnings of true surround music. It is the square that the sphere lifts and brings into its world. And in recent decades, when new techniques and technologies have been developed to encourage, expand, and dominate this concept, we can speak of a musical current entirely dedicated to spatiality. In music for images, we can say that the world of music is no longer that of Lineland, but that of Spaceland.

My album was born from the wave opened by these decades, from the exploration of musical dimensions, both spatial and temporal. I love to start a project thinking that it is a point of arrival. I love to finish it knowing that it was actually a starting point. Every project exists only by virtue of what will follow it. Reflecting, I realized that after understanding countless things, I had just as many more to understand: as I felt I had mastery of my art and its dimensions, the awareness grew in me that I was commanded by it and knew less and less. If my project was born with the intention of mastering musical dimensions, its goal was perhaps to question those I did not see. Just as the sphere comes to know that if a fourth dimension exists, it cannot conceive of it, I wondered: what are the dimensions of music that it can have but we cannot understand?

What could be the new dimensions of music?

Will these dimensions change only thanks to external devices?

Do we believe that the right direction for evolution is to increase the number of speakers, their arrangement in the room, and the movement of sound?

Is this innovation, or is it an exasperated technical expansion of an already consumed concept?

What if progress consisted not in expanding music to other dimensions, but in reducing music to the first dimension it never had?

Will we be able to consume music outside of the temporal dimension?

Will there be an instant of music?

Can music exist in Pointland?

These questions are the valid end of a project born for everything that precedes them.