Upon my first visit to the school quarry, I decided to try carving stone. Being in this defunct, discarded, beautiful space, I felt that the quarry somehow created and cradled an atmosphere of “table rasa” granting freedom to try something new. It had never been equipped with outside sources of power, it was an accidental theater created by the hands of quarry workers. How many hours of grindingly repetitive work, following and extracting the highest quality stone, had been necessary to create this architecture? But there was a welcoming atmosphere of creative delight emanating from the walls of the quarry: quarry workers had also put their drawings, graffiti, and signatures on the walls, recording their dreams, their lives, their jokes, their gossip. After commercial exploitation stopped in this quarry, nature took over and planted grasses, aromatic herbs, trees. It was an ideal studio.