Not being able to touch is sometimes as interesting as being able to touch.

There are occasions when I have moved boulders, but I'm reluctant to, especially ones that have been rooted in a place for many years.

I knew the tree when it grew, and the tree is now gone. The farmers cut it up, and it's become firewood. And there's this tremendous sense of absence and shock and violence attendant to that collapsing tree.

When I make a work, I often take it to the very edge of its collapse, and that's a very beautiful balance.

If you lay in the rain, every rain shower, storm, whatever, is different. Every surface is different.

Snow provokes responses that reach right back to childhood.

The essence of drawing is the line exploring space.