Black, green, black. A perfect triangle, 45 degree slopes, gravity in action. Rocks forged by tectonic movements and sculpted by the sea. Delicate structures of foam and bubble. The luscious belt of green, fed by minerals from deep underground. Then the stuff climb up, to the Martian landscape, and the Disney-like spectacle through which this island gives its name to the world. And at the top, the end of the conveyer belt from which stone is made, possessed with oxymoronic properties, rock lights enough to float foamed like ciabatta. This is how we came to the island, a factory for rocks and a sourcebook for structures.

A week spent looking at stones circling the island, collecting, measuring, photographing fighting the midday sun talking to geologists and archaeologists. We turned the terrace of the house into our own personal laboratory. Arranging, categorising and analysing, cutting rocks up, weighing them, dissolving them and cracking them apart. We recorded some of the key discoveries here.