When asked how he created his masterpieces, Michelangelo once replied: “I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.” To him, stone wasn’t just raw material — it already contained form, soul, and story, waiting patiently to be uncovered.
Working with stone, especially as a sculptor, goes back almost as far as human history itself. It is a primitive yet grounded act, both physically and mentally demanding. This essence lies at the heart of Polina Torbina’s practice. As the founder of Studio Torbina, she has devoted her daily life to this wonderful, and at times stubborn material. To fully embrace it, she moved to her country house, three hours away from buzzing Paris, in a quiet village steeped in time.
Originally from Russia, craftsmanship — and curiously, stones — have always held a place in Polina’s family story.
Just like the stones she now sculpts, Polina’s creative journey has never followed a straight path. It has been shaped by her interest in ritual, in the human need to mark time and place. Studio Torbina was ultimately born from a deep longing to return to physical making.
“I found that quiet space in a small village where my house and workshop are based — a place where time slows down. It’s a space of silence, reflection, and transformation. Paris became the other pole: layered, intense, and full of contradiction — refinement next to decay.”
In this rural rhythm, Polina begins her days slowly — with drawing, walking, or writing. Her process is a mirror of the material: unhurried, devoted, and patient. Unlike more pliable mediums, stone demands time. It offers structure, and often, she chooses to work with what the stone already suggests.
She explains that each stone is a co-creator, many of them are taken directly from the foundation of her own house, making each object intensely personal. The result are works that carry not only her own hand and vision but the memory of the place itself.
“These values reflect how I move through the world. I believe in the power of stillness — not as escape, but as depth. My work is a reflection of that desire for presence and for listening. In many ways, each object becomes a kind of altar — a place to return to.”
This may be why Polina is drawn so deeply to stone, beyond its materiality. In the quiet veins and unique shapes, she sees stories and patterns, a living archive carved by time and earth.
Looking back, it all began modestly — with candleholders she made for her son’s baptism. What started as a personal gesture, a return to working with her hands, slowly and organically grew into a full practice in which fire plays an almost equally important role as the stone itself.
This summer, Polina will exhibit her works in various locations across the Balearic Islands and Paris. Among the most striking new pieces is her first sculptural stool, a work that bridges primal memory with contemporary design.
Creating it required a shift in scale. Polina traveled to a local stone carrier to select large, substantial stones — far beyond the fragments she was used to. Working closely with local artisans, each stone was adapted with care and intention.
“The contrast between the rawness of the stone and the sleekness of the inox structure fascinated me. The two materials, so different in origin and texture, complement each other in a way that speaks to tension and harmony.”
As our conversation draws to a close, Polina shares that her future explorations will move toward ephemeral materials — earth, ash, wax—and site-specific installations in natural landscapes or sacred architecture. She is beginning new collaborations with architects and thinkers on the idea of spiritual functionality: how objects and spaces can help us reconnect to silence and stillness.
Speaking with Polina left me with a rare calm. Simply imagining her way of living — choosing slowness over speed, intention over quantity — reminded me how essential it is to pause. To create things that last, one must first take time. And it seems that this is the quiet truth at the heart of Polina’s work: the stone is never inert. As Friedrich Schiller once wrote, “What else is chance but the rude stone which receives its life from the sculptor’s hand?” In her hands, even chance is shaped into meaning.
