I think a person permeates a spot, and a lost presence makes the environment timeless to me, keeps an area alive. It pulsates because of that.

I can't work completely out of my imagination-I must put my foot in a bit of truth-and then I can fly free.

I think a person permeates a spot, and a lost presence makes the environment timeless to me, keeps an area alive. It pulsates because of that.

If you clean it up, get analytical, all the subtle joy and emotion you felt in the first place goes flying out the window.

I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape. Something waits beneath it; the whole story doesn't show.

I do an awful lot of thinking and dreaming about things in the past and the future - the timelessness of the rocks and the hills - all the people who have existed there.

It's a moment that I'm after, a fleeting moment, but not a frozen moment.