Looking, touching, material, place and form are all inseparable from the resulting work. It is difficult to say where one stops and another begins. The energy and space around a material are as important as the energy and space within. The weather--rain, sun, snow, hail, mist, calm--is that external space made visible. When I touch a rock, I am touching and working the space around it. It is not independent of its surroundings, and the way it sits tells how it came to be there.

I have six acres in front of my own house, which I very rarely work on. Most of the work occurs on farmers' fields around me. And I like the discipline of working on other people's land.

Ephemeral work made outside, for and about a day, lies at the core of my art and its making must be kept private.

I love the winter. Well, I love all the seasons, but the winter is possibly one of the most intense.

Snow provokes responses that reach right back to childhood.

I think that any sculpture is a response to its environment. It can be brought to life or put to sleep by the environment.

Generally in New York, people just walk over you with no problem about that. Other countries, people want to resuscitate you, like, after a bit.