We tore down every partition and stripped the place to its bare bones, leaving a single open room filled with light and echoes. The floor was done with the cheapest recycled wood we could find —a kind of pressed sawdust that gave the space a raw, almost provisional texture— and we decided to run all the electrical wiring visibly, like veins drawn over the skin of the building. Every division or enclosure was made not with walls but with a large modular shelving system built from perforated steel panels, each with two-centimetre holes and forty-by-forty modules, allowing light, air and sound to pass through. The result was somewhere between a workshop and a studio, an interior that felt honest and alive, where the structure of things remained exposed, and every surface seemed to breathe. It turned out beautifully simple, open, and full of possibility.
