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For many years, my father worked at this mercury mine on Mount Amiata.In those days – for the children of the workers at least – the mine was an almost mythical place, one that we would continually overhear our parents talking about at home. In fact, the ins-and-outs of life over at the mine were usually ripe topics for discussion for many a husband and wife at the time.And this was not without justification.Truth be told, down at the mine something or the other was always going on. The subject of the day could range from a colleague that had fallen ill to a gang that had begun work on a stretch of tunnel or a new plan for some extension or refurbishment.Once in a while, and always accompanied by a lot of excitement, talk would centre on some newly arrived piece of machinery that had come from overseas, while more often than not it would be of the workers’ disagreements and fights with one another, some amusing story or accident that had taken place at one of the work sites or along a mine shaft…the list could go on and on.Within the mine itself, daily life unfolded as if in some sort of parallel universe; it was like observing a mini-metropolis that just happened to sit alongside our hometown Abbadia San Salvatore. As if to prove the point, the heartbeat of this citadel was entirely in rhythm with the daily lives of every family around Amitano.Its workforce ran well into the hundreds and, for every one of its employees, the mine provided the means to a solid and reliable source of income. It also happened to be the area’s single biggest employer by some margin and the corporation embraced its role by becoming a patron of sorts, building community centres around Amitano, distributing gifts to the worker’s children during the Epiphany and even setting up a seaside resort along the way.However, for all this bounty, it asked a high price of its workers in exchange. Occupational hazards were aplenty. Working at the mine meant running the risk of irreversible damage to your health, not to mention round-the-clock exposure to toxic vapours and workplace accidents. In short, your very life was constantly on the line.Despite all this I was completely fascinated by the prospect of being able to step into a world that had until now remained strictly off-limits. The stories my father would tell me as a child had stirred up curiosity in me like nothing else, yet at the time I knew that venturing beyond those walls was absolutely out of the question.Many years later, I managed to be granted permission to access the entire facility: the almost hallowed treatment plants, the disused offices and all the surrounding areas, to be able to document it all.The mine, its buildings and all that went along with it had been shut down remained cruelly abandoned for over 25 years. As happens, time and neglect seem to have taken their toll, with buildings struggling to remain upright against the inexorable tug of weeds and vines.Against this melancholy and emotionally charged backdrop, it feels odd to admit seeing this as quite an opportunity, creatively! For the very first time, I was able to lay eyes on a scene that for the whole of my childhood I was only able to imagine.Even in its current shabby and sullen state, that mythical world within Mount Amiata completely retained its magic in my eyes, particularly now as someone trained as a photographer.All the silent, rusty old equipment, the countless ordered lines of windows mercilessly caked in dust, the imposing concrete fixtures, those mighty pavilions spanning multiple floors and supporting rows of huge pipes – bit by bit, they gradually replaced the vast fantasy world my childhood mind had created. In some ways this solid reality was even more astonishing, even with the life and the hum completely removed from it all.The light that beamed through the almost labyrinthine structures overhead created an intriguing play of light and shadow and, in turn, illuminated thousands of details. In the midst of all of this, here and there you would stumble upon a personal trinket lost or left behind by the last set of workers on the site.To me, this all represented an immense treasure trove; a creative challenge that stood ready to breathe welcome new life into my imagination.)