Pooley was born and grew up in Araucanía, a region in southern Chile that was incorporated into the national territory by means of military occupation and colonization in the late 19th century. Since then, there has been a continuing conflict between the original inhabitants (who were forcibly assimilated to a newly-built Chilean identity) and the settlers, provoking complex discourse around identity, land ownership and belonging. In this painting, Pooley overlays photographs of the interiors of her childhood home, which she took after it was destroyed in an arson attack in 2014 (related to unsolved territorial conflicts), on to images of the forests of Chile, which are slowly drying up. However, instead of depicting violence of the attack or deforestation, Pooley depicts the aftermath – the unseen but long-felt ramifications of dislocation and loss. The painting appears almost translucent as if it has been drained of colour or bleached. The soft, golden light that can be glimpsed between the trees was inspired by the ephemeral light quality that Pooley encountered in one of the burnt rooms and conveys both a sense of tenderness and transience. In this way, the merging of exterior and interior, of private and public spaces reflects on complex notions of identity and belonging. Meanwhile, the painting process itself – the gradual build-up and erasure of layers – evokes the uncertain nature of time and memory, creating an interplay between destruction and creation, historic trauma and renewal in the present day. The painting's title also makes reference to this idea – the first stone in a biblical context being both a symbol of foundation and guilt (the stone that is thrown to condemn).