Opus vermiculatum, “worm work,” is a laborious mosaic technique. Tiny tiles are chosen and set in curves that follow the contour, shadows and wrinkles of the represented objects. From a short distance, the delicate and twisted rings look like the track of a worm; from afar, they blend in a realistic image. The wellknown mosaic of Issos in Naples contains, approximately, one and a half million tiles. 

My piece frees the thoroughness and the curve from their service to shapes. Think of the form and colour of the tiles, the flow of their concatenation, the fissure between them – at worm view, the portion picturing the eye of a horse and that of a man look the same. Think of the colour hues on a line, the warmth with which they intertwine, the surprising independence with which they rebel and break – and their abrupt way of dying. 

Also. Picture a guided tour to the workshop, focused on hands, bone architectures of effort and patience. Nacred nails, blind fingers and premonitory palms are devoured by time, the greatest worm. Inside the chrysalis of a fist, time patiently grows nothingness. In the centre of my piece a tenuto section illustrates that crying silence. 

The mixed instrumental ensemble has become, with small variations, a standard of contemporary music. Within a small number of instruments, it gathers a large variety of timbres, which is multiplied by extended techniques, percussions and gadgets. I question its sonic diversity through a traditional writing. Two written Gs on the flute and the violin, two identical round, black tiles, can depict very different things: opposing eyes, head and tail of a horse, a friendly arm and the spear of a foe. 

Mikel Urquiza